Since July 2024, when we held our first brainstorming meeting about bringing together Leland Masek’s LARP expertise and my reserch focus in socially impactful projects responding to current events, we began developing In Our Shoes.
In Our Shoes is a biographical micro live-action role-play, also known as a “kitchen table” LARP, using Ludic Inquiry to explore complex decision-making in critical situations and to foster empathy. It is based on interviews with people who faced the decision to flee their country during the full-scale war.
In this 10-minute game, players act as characters to navigate and resolve a difficult shared problem, inspired by real interviews with Ukrainian refugees and the tough decisions they were forced to make.
While the scenarios are grounded in true experiences, all names and identifying details have been changed to protect anonymity. The project aims to develop a methodology that supports empathy towards refugees and raises awareness of the complex realities faced by people living in or fleeing from war zones.
Currently, we already had the following playtests:
Playtest 1.0, Tampere, Finland, 3 April 2025, Tampere University 14 participants, 5 scenarios
Playtest 2.0, Florence, Italy, 23 June 2025, European University Institute 30 participants 1 scenario x 5 teams
This video shows a summary from the session with one of the playtesting: “How can forced displacement research adopt a gender-sensitive approach?” during the Migration Summer School 2025, which took place on June 23rd in Florence, Italy, at the European University Institute.
The Summer School is organised by the Migration Policy Center of the Robert Schuman for Advanced Studies.
Game Design & Research: Leland Masek, Alina Potemska Research: Iuliia Lashchuk, Mark Maletska Illustration: Oksana Drachkovska Production and Layout: Alina Potemska
That was very helpful to discuss my intervention with my colleagues. I received valuable feedback from my group, tutor, and course leader on the course I’m teaching.
In Our Shoes: “Birthday Scenario” set of cards. Illustrator: Oksana Drachkovska
My intervention involves designing a lesson plan that uses a Live Action Role Play (LARP)-inspired card game to facilitate student engagement with social justice issues related to intersectional diversity, specifically focusing on neurodiversity and cultural adjustment challenges faced by international students. This builds on a pre-existing card game format but adapts it with scenarios based on real student narratives to encourage empathy and self-reflection in a higher education setting.
The very first public presentation of the live action role-playing game “In Our Shoes”, we’ve been working on with Leland Masek since spring 2024, happened almoust a year after, in May 2025 in two-day workshop “Ukrainian Scholars and Artists at War” in Berlin. Here is the article with a report on the matters in art and science during the war time we discussed: https://lnkd.in/erxSYy7T
The activity begins with students selecting character cards that represent different backgrounds and challenges (e.g., a neurodiverse student navigating peer pressure or an international student facing cultural isolation). Students then improvise interactions based on these scenarios, guided by prompts on the cards. Following gameplay, there is a structured discussion where students reflect on the emotional and social dynamics encountered, fostering awareness of inequality and inclusive practices.
Ethical guidelines include ensuring privacy, defined as students’ right to disclose only what they feel comfortable sharing without coercion or peer pressure. To manage emotional impact, a pastoral support professional will be present to provide immediate assistance if needed, in line with advice from my line manager.
This intervention aims to address inequities by enabling marginalised voices to be explored through play, shifting the learning environment toward social justice awareness and empathy-building. I plan to evaluate the activity using Frania Hall’s Positive Evaluation framework, which focuses on peer interaction and cultural understanding (Hall, 2025).
In response to tutor’s feedback about grounding the activity in relevant literature, I draw on Campbell’s (2019) definition of ludic practice of ludic practice as “object-led play with spontaneous involvement”, situating my work within this framework, while considering Allport’s (1954) Contact Hypothesis to frame the potential of intergroup empathy through structured interaction.
Questions for further development:
How can I balance educational and therapeutic boundaries in this activity?
Which specific evaluation metrics best capture changes in student empathy and understanding?
How might the lesson plan be adapted for different social justice issues beyond neurodiversity and cultural identity?
In developing a ludic practice-inspired activity for university-level teaching, I have been reflecting on how playful methods can deepen student engagement and surface hidden experiences.
A valuable pieces of feedback came from Lucy Parker, who recommended an article from Spark Journal on Ludic Practice (https://sparkjournal.arts.ac.uk/index.php/spark/article/view/124). It prompted me to consider how I might better contextualise my method for others unfamiliar with it and to think more deeply about the specific student experiences it aims to support.
Lucy asked several useful questions regarding the format I proposed — a Live Action Role Play (LARP)-inspired deck of cards that supports students in exploring emotional or institutional scenarios. I realised that a clearer explanation of what LARP entails would be helpful. In my context, LARP involves students inhabiting fictionalised characters and scenarios that reflect real-life academic or personal challenges. They are invited to act out these scenarios through improvisation, drawing both from their own experiences and the shared narrative created through the cards. This blend of fiction and reality helps participants explore difficult situations at a safe distance while offering the opportunity for self-reflection and peer empathy.
Lucy also asked whether I had considered which student groups might benefit most from this approach. In response, I am planning to trial the activity with international students adjusting to UK academic culture, as well as neurodiverse students who might struggle with conventional forms of expression. I believe this method could offer an alternative language of communication — through play, empathy, and role-play — for those whose concerns often go unspoken.
Following advice from our Course Leader, Luca, I have also considered the emotional impact such activities may have. As such, I will ensure that a counsellor or pastoral support staff member is present during the session to help students process any difficult emotions that arise. This safeguard recognises that while games can be powerful tools for learning, they also require a framework of care and support.
As Luca noted, this method not only offers the potential to uncover students’ hidden worries but also serves as a powerful illustration of how games can address serious and complex topics within a structured academic environment. It aligns well with Campbell’s (2019) definition of ludic practice as “the use of games or play, adapted specifically for the university teaching collection environment… [which] must be object-led and involve spontaneous or undirected involvement from participants.” By grounding the activity in lived experience while allowing room for spontaneous interpretation, this approach aligns with that ethos — combining critical reflection with creative practice.
In response to recieved feedbacks, this intervention is designed to provide students with a dedicated, respectful space to engage with sensitive topics around identity, gender, and trans experiences, while fostering the practice of empathy and kindness toward diverse perspectives. Recognising the emotional weight these discussions may carry, it is vital to implement clear content warnings at the outset, so students are fully informed about the themes they will encounter. Students will also be explicitly encouraged to step away or take breaks at any time if they feel uncomfortable or triggered, with no expectation to justify their choice. To further safeguard emotional well-being, the presence of pastoral support or counselling professionals during sessions is crucial. This not only allows for immediate assistance if difficult emotions arise but also serves to connect students with ongoing support services beyond the intervention.
Building a foundation of trust is central to the success of this activity. To help students feel secure in sharing, we introduce strategies that allow for protective distancing from personal experience. For example, participants may reflect on the lives of public figures or anonymous stories rather than disclosing their own histories. This method respects individual boundaries while still allowing authentic engagement with the material. While the activity is rooted in bibliographical narratives—real stories drawn from lived experience—it does not require students to reveal their identities or any personal details. This balance between authenticity and confidentiality is a hallmark of bibliographical micro-LARP, a form first developed in Chicago during the 1920s.
For the context, Bibliographical micro-LARP builds on longstanding traditions of role-play and performative storytelling in education and therapy, with roots traceable to early 20th-century psychodrama techniques developed by Jacob L. Moreno. These methods combine authentic narratives with imaginative enactment to foster empathy and reflection, while protecting participant privacy through performative distance. It uses performative role-play grounded in real-life accounts to facilitate empathy and understanding, while safeguarding participants’ privacy and emotional safety. By adhering to these principles, the intervention aims to create a meaningful, inclusive learning environment where students can explore complex social justice issues confidently and compassionately.
To address another point raised, I am beginning to think about how to collect real-life stories that can inform the scenario cards. I aim to gather anonymised narratives through one-to-one conversations and feedback forms, ensuring the resulting game pack reflects genuine concerns and emotions. These stories will then be translated into scenarios that can be played out in a structured yet flexible way.
Overall, I see this as a promising avenue for enhancing student well-being, surfacing marginalised voices, and showcasing the versatility of game-based learning in higher education.
Looking ahead, I am also considering how technology might enhance this intervention, for example by integrating digital tools that allow remote participation or adaptive scenarios tailored to individual student needs. Exploring hybrid formats could increase accessibility for students who are unable to attend in person or who benefit from alternative modes of engagement. Additionally, collaborating with student support services and cultural organizations could enrich the content and ensure that the intervention remains relevant and responsive to evolving student demographics. This ongoing development will be crucial to sustaining the impact of the activity and expanding its application to other disciplines and social justice topics.
References:
Bowman, S. L. (2014) Play to Grow: Exploring the Therapeutic Potential of Role-Playing Games. McFarland & Company, Inc.
As a Ukrainian working a lot with topics of people with refugee experience, I would like to reflect on misleading ideas talking about certain privileges people fleeing from full-scale invasion in Ukraine potentially have in comparison to other ethnicities. I often notice how public narratives can get stuck in oversimplified frames that do more harm than good.
It is not only diminishes ethnical variety in Ukraine. Unfortunately, there are no official statistics available on how many Ukrainian refugees are non‑White. Most major data sources — including UNHCR, the EU, and national governments — report refugee numbers by nationality or country of origin, not by race or ethnicity. However, Ethnic minorities from Ukraine — such as Crimean Tatars, Roma, Koreans (Koryo‑saram), or others — are included in overall Ukrainian refugee figures, but the data isn’t disaggregated in racial or ethnic detail.
While working on a paper about In Our Shoes — a project that uses immersive roleplay to explore refugee experiences and my intervention case study — I had a thought-provoking exchange with my colleagues about the complexity of labelling, especially when it comes to Ukrainians displaced by the war.
We were discussing whether it’s appropriate to compare the Ukrainian experience to that of refugees from other regions, especially when cultural and racial contexts are so different. There was general agreement that while cultural proximity played a role in how some European countries responded to Ukrainian arrivals, it doesn’t mean Ukrainians were given special privileges. In fact, those perceived similarities often came with assumptions—assumptions that led to harmful stereotypes and a very conditional kind of support.
Our colleague wrote in the paper draft:
“This ‘refugee’ label in public discourse is also associated in Ukrainian communities with growing stigma and a reduced support that occurred shortly after the invasion. Initially, Ukrainians escaping the war were more welcome in many European countries and the US due to ethnicity and cultural proximity (De Coninck 2022, Kentmen-Cin 2025). As Mickelsson (2025) notes, “the Ukrainian refugee may be the most ‘deserving’ refugee in contemporary times, being predominantly White, female (and/or youth), perceived to be in need of protection and not as a security threat, all the while sharing cultural features with fellow Europeans”, a sentiment that was also shared by the US, as visible from De Coninck’s (2022) piece. These cultural overlaps did not give any privileges but rather created additional background for stereotypes regarding Ukrainians seeking protection. Moreover, after more diverse people outside of a stereotypical ‘perfect victim’ image fled from Ukraine, this support started to decrease after five months from the start of the full-scale invasion (Moise et al., 2024).”
I mentioned how, in many Ukrainian communities, the label “refugee” started to carry stigma. In the first months after the full-scale invasion, Ukrainians were widely welcomed in Europe and North America. But that welcoming attitude faded surprisingly fast — often just five or six months in. Some studies suggest that this initial reception was strongly tied to race and gender. As Mickelsson (2025) puts it, the Ukrainian refugee was seen as the “most deserving”: mostly white, female, young, culturally similar, and unlikely to be viewed as a security threat. De Coninck (2022) and Kentmen-Çin (2025) make similar points.
But using this quote from Mickelsson sparked a bit of disagreement. With my other colleagues, we raised a point: that framing is risky. When taken out of context, it can easily play into Russian propaganda or reinforce divisive tropes. A colleague specialised in migration suggested we focus instead on concepts like “ideal migrants” or “promising victimhood” — ways to talk about expectations without creating false hierarchies. I appreciated that perspective. It reminded me that even well-meant academic language can reinforce the wrong ideas if we’re not careful.
Another colleague shared a Swedish study showing how expectations of Ukrainian refugees were shaped by existing racial biases, especially in Nordic countries like Finland. Refugees from Ukraine were at first treated with more empathy, but that empathy came with conditions. Once Ukrainians arriving didn’t fit the expected “ideal” image, public support started to wane. Again, these weren’t privileges — they were projections, often tied to race and culture, that quickly turned into disappointments or even backlash.
In the end, we decided to revise the paragraph in question — or maybe remove it altogether. The draft is still in progress. Not because the topic isn’t important, but because it’s too easy to misinterpret. It’s one thing to talk about how race affects refugee perception; it’s another to accidentally reinforce the very systems we’re trying to unpack.
This whole exchange reminded me how crucial it is to remain reflexive, especially when we’re writing about something as politically charged and emotionally complex as displacement. No story about refugees exists outside of history, identity, and power. And as writers and researchers — especially those who share in that lived experience — we owe it to others to speak with care and clarity.
This case underscores how racialisation and the politics of perception shape refugee discourse. Even among communities facing active conflict and displacement, there is a risk of reproducing hierarchies that marginalise others. Scholars must therefore carefully contextualise claims, resist binary framings, and remain aware of how their work might be co-opted or misunderstood.
References:
Crenshaw, K. (1991). Mapping the margins: Intersectionality, identity politics, and violence against women of color. Stanford Law Review, 43(6), pp.1241–1299. https://doi.org/10.2307/1229039
De Coninck, D. (2022). Deserving and undeserving refugees: How European media constructed the Ukrainian refugee crisis.
Kentmen-Çin, C. (2025). Perceptions of Refugees in European Democracies: The Case of Ukrainian Displacement.
Mickelsson, R. (2025). The “Ideal Victim” and Whiteness in the Context of Ukrainian Refugees.
Moise, M. et al. (2024). Shifting Solidarities: Decline of Host Country Support Toward Ukrainian Refugees.
To be able to maintain a respectful conversation with people who has different opinions from you, it’s something we are learning how to do throughout our life. As a predimately institution that attacts left-wing view students and staaf, we need to be cousious that doesnt mean that some wont have absolutely differnt poinyt on view than us on the certain topic. One of it is religion. Having students
UAL Equality, Diversity & Inclusion Annual Report 2022/23, 29% of UAL students declared a religion or belief, while 60% declared no religion, and 11% preferred not to say.
While roughly one-third of UAL students identify with a religion or belief, it’s important to give space to speak and reflect on it.
Once it was a situation in class where a heated debate unfolded around the topic of faith. A student who openly identified with a religious belief found themselves in a difficult position as multiple peers, most of whom identified as non-believers or held sceptical views, began to challenge their perspective. Although the intention may have been to maintain an argument-based discussion, the dynamic quickly became unbalanced due to the number of voices aligned against the believer and the dismissive tone adopted by some participants. This created a power imbalance, allowing students to express their viewpoints freely. It was challenging and frustrating for tutor to maintain an inclusive environment. Ultimately, the student of faith was not given adequate space to articulate their beliefs without feeling marginalised.
This situation reflects the challenges that can arise in educational settings when intersectional identities, which include a religious belief, are not acknowledged as part of inclusive practice. As Crenshaw (1991) argues, intersectionality reveals how overlapping social identities can compound marginalisation, and in this case, the student’s faith identity became a point of vulnerability.
As tutors, we have guidance and according to the Equality Act 2010 (legislation.gov.uk, 2010), religion or belief is a protected characteristic, and higher education institutions have a duty to foster environments where such characteristics are respected.
Additionaly, the Higher Education Funding Council for England (HEFCE) emphasises that universities must ensure students from all backgrounds feel safe and respected (HEFCE, 2017). However, in reality it can be very challenging to protect those rights if students are coming from different mindsets.
University of the Arts London. (2023) Equality, Diversity and Inclusion Annual Report 2022–23. London: University of the Arts London. Available at: https://www.arts.ac.uk/
Crenshaw, K. (1991) ‘Mapping the margins: Intersectionality, identity politics, and violence against women of color’, Stanford Law Review, 43(6), pp.1241–1299. Available at: https://doi.org/10.2307/1229039.
This intervention is based on a research project I am working on with Leland Masek, titled In Our Shoes. While the original project focuses on the experiences of refugees, this intervention does not directly address that topic. Instead, it draws on the project’s methodology. The aim is to create a safe space for students to share the complex life situations and decisions they have faced. These experiences often impact their studies, so building trust is essential in order to understand each student’s context.
The capacity for fictional spaces to communicate essential life stories as a form of scientific inquiry is an established and rapidly growing field. The field of games is showing exciting work in this direction, but with only limited methodologies in implementation. This work will also develop and test a novel methodology termed “Ludic Inquiry”. This leverages the principles of narrative inquiry into game design so that players empathise with and fictionally experience real human stories.
Storytelling and writing are fundamental parts of human life and our study of it. Narrative is not merely a research method but an integral part of life. Leavey 2020 P. 43
The capacity for fictional spaces to communicate essential life stories as a form of scientific inquiry is an established and rapidly growing field. Numerous scholars in therapeutic (Reissman & Speedy 2007), artistic (McGarrigle 2018), and social scientific (Clandinine & Caine 2013) contexts have argued for the value in using narrative as a tool for people to communicate their subjective experience of life in its meaningful wholeness (Richardson,1997, p. 27) above and beyond a simple rational vs. emotional dichotomy.
In this way, the intervention fosters empathy, emotional engagement, and a sense of social identity, allowing for the sharing of compelling and authentic personal narratives. This approach is supported by prior research, which has outlined design principles demonstrating how games can be uniquely powerful tools for inspiring empathy in players (Belman & Flanagan, 2010).
Additionally, the intervention contributes to the field of game studies through a research-through-design methodology (Gaver, 2012), incorporating Narrative Inquiry as a systematic method within the game design research process (Leavy et al., 2020). It offers scientific value by advancing understanding of students’ complex life situations through empathetic engagement. Ultimately, the project aims to establish a grounded approach to designing serious, artistic, and necessary games that address sensitive and timely topics.
Intervention set up
Invite students to: 1. Play 10 min game LARP game 2. Discuss the experience 3. Write a script for complicated decisions that students or someone they know made
Cards to prepare:
-Scenario set up. -Decition to make in 10 min. -Character A-E Desire: Constraint:
Ethical Considerations Guideline
Anonymity. Don’t use real names or identifying details. Anonymise anything you share or refer to.
Confidentiality. Respect others’ stories. Don’t share outside the group without permission.
Emotional safety. Share only what you’re comfortable with. Some topics may be painful or personal
Boundaries. No judgment. Be kind, sensitive, and supportive.
In Our Shoes is a project prepared in collaboration with Leland Masek — Game Scholar and Serious Game Designer. His work focuses on Playfulness across culture, wellbeing effects of play, and games as art. He is a PhD student at Tampere University’s Centre of Excellence in Game Culture Studies and a member of the HEAL play lab at Oregon State University. He is the founder and lead organiser of the Games As Art Center, which hosted 170 public events for 2700 attendees from September 2023-2024.
Citations
Belman, J., & Flanagan, M. (2010). Designing games to foster empathy. International Journal of Cognitive Technology, 15(1), 11.
Clandinin, D. J., & Caine, V. (2013). Narrative inquiry. In Reviewing qualitative research in the social sciences (pp. 166-179). Routledge.
Gaver, W. (2012, May). What should we expect from research through design?. In Proceedings of the SIGCHI conference on human factors in computing systems (pp. 937-946).
Leavy, P. (2020). Method meets art: Arts-based research practice. Guilford publications.
Lindley, C. A. (2002, June). The Gameplay Gestalt, Narrative, and Interactive Storytelling. In CGDC Conf..
McGarrigle, J. G. (2018). Getting in tune through arts-based narrative inquiry. Irish Educational Studies, 37(2), 275-293.
Perzycka-Borowska, E., Szczepaniak, C., & Gruntowska, D. (2023). Multivocal stories about caring during the war in Ukraine, as told by Polish researchers. Cultural Studies↔ Critical Methodologies, 23(5), 486-493.
Petitmengin, C., Remillieux, A., & Valenzuela-Moguillansky, C. (2019). Discovering the structures of lived experience: Towards a micro-phenomenological analysis method. Phenomenology and the Cognitive Sciences, 18(4), 691-730.
Riessman, C. K., & Speedy, J. (2007). Narrative inquiry in the psychotherapy professions. Handbook of narrative inquiry: Mapping a methodology, 426456.
Recently, I had an experience that gave me a powerful new perspective on disability and confidence. I met a blind person while heading down a set of stairs. I hesitated, unsure how to support him, but he calmly said, “It’s not the first time I’m doing this. Follow me.”
His confidence was disarming — and deeply reassuring. In that moment, the dynamic flipped. It wasn’t about me helping him; he was leading me. It made me think: when people are given the right environment and enough practice, they gain not only competence but autonomy—even in spaces designed without them in mind.
This led me to reflect on how we design video and board games. Are we building experiences only for the “typical” player? Or are we thinking inclusively, considering players with disabilities, cognitive differences, and varied physical abilities?
As game designers, educators, and creatives, we must look beyond assumptions. Inclusive design isn’t just ethical — it’s innovative.
PART 1. Rethinking Game Design on example of Access+ line for the tabletop games
Let’s look at tabletop games, where a player’s experience depends on touch, visuals, and physical setup. Here are some of the common challenges and solutions:
Colour Blindness
Colour coding is a classic design choice (think team colours like red, blue, yellow), but for players who are colour blind, this can be alienating. The solution? Use shape coding or texture patterns alongside colour like traffic lights, which rely not just on colour but position (top, middle, bottom).
Mobility and Accessibility
Think of games that involve physically moving tokens or cards across a large board. For players with limited dexterity or range of motion, such designs can be frustrating. Boards, components, and game flow should be compact, adjustable, and easy to manipulate.
Cognitive Accessibility
Some companies have taken this seriously. A standout example is the Access+ series of games.
Access+ is a groundbreaking initiative from Asmodee, one of the world’s leading board game publishers. This series adapts popular games to be more accessible for players living with cognitive disorders—such as Alzheimer’s, learning disabilities, or brain trauma—while still being fun and meaningful for everyone.
“Playing games helps people live better by improving their quality of life.” — Dr. Philippe Robert, Professor of Psychiatry and scientific advisor to Access+
Here are a few examples:
1. Dobble Access+: Features larger cards, simplified symbols, and three levels of difficulty. Designed to support memory, observation, and attention in a fun, flexible way.
2. Timeline Access+: Bigger cards with personal experience themes. Encourages storytelling, memory recall, and sequencing. Great for social play or one-on-one settings with carers.
3. Cortex Access+: Adds touch-based challenges and games focused on logic, attention, and emotional regulation. Designed to be stimulating without overwhelming the player.
Michael Le Bourhis, head of the Access+ studio, explained in an interview:
“Over the last several years, Asmodee has invested in scientific research to demonstrate the societal impact board games can have. Access+ is one result. The games we created are not just for fun—they are also proven to benefit players living with cognitive disorders.”
Access+ collaborates with a scientific committee made up of healthcare professionals, education experts, and board game designers. They work together to adapt game mechanics, simplify rules, and ensure emotional and cognitive accessibility.
Each game comes with a guide written by experts, outlining its therapeutic benefits— whether that’s improving attention, encouraging social interaction, or supporting memory recall.
PART 2: Reflection
Meeting that confident blind man on the stairs was more than a passing encounter reminded me that ability is often contextual. It’s not just about what someone can or cannot do; it’s about how systems, spaces, and games can support that potential.
As I look deeper into the Access+ line and the thoughtful design behind it, I realised that inclusive game design isn’t about making something “easier.” It’s about removing the invisible barriers that prevent someone from engaging fully. It’s about dignity. When a player feels seen and respected, when their unique needs are not just accommodated but anticipated, they’re empowered to lead, to play, and to thrive.
Too often, inclusivity is treated as an afterthought, an “add-on” to a game already finished. But what if it was the starting point? What if, instead of designing for the “average” player, we began with the margins with the people most often left out?
Inclusive design opens up not only accessibility but also creativity. It forces us to think in more imaginative ways about what games can be and who gets to enjoy them. For example, when we reduce cognitive load through better UI, everyone benefits, not just neurodivergent players. When we design tactile or audio-rich environments, we’re enhancing the sensory palette of the whole experience.
This doesn’t mean every game must be for everyone. But it does mean that we have the responsibility and the opportunity to question default assumptions. Are we designing for diversity of mind and body? Are we building in flexibility, choice, and care?
Inclusion isn’t just about compliance or representation. It’s about crafting experiences that honour the full spectrum of human potential. It’s about the joy of playing together on equal footing, across all kinds of difference.
That moment on the stairs stays with me. It reminds me that sometimes, we need to follow not lead. And in doing so, we learn to design not just better games, but a better world.
During our last tutorial with Tim Stephens, I received advice to read an interesting papers in response to my interest in Game-Based Learning (GBL) and work with trauma within playfulness.
Academic writing Game Over, Trauma! Empowering Trauma Healing Through Gaming (Ammannato & Chiesi, 2024) and Trauma-Informed Game-Based Learning: A Technological Approach to Enhancing Children’s Resilience in Post-Disaster Education (Kusumandari, 2025), has prompted deep reflection on how GBL can serve in my surroundings. I view games as vehicles for healing. These studies collectively affirm the transformative potential of GBL, not only as an educational method but as a trauma-informed framework for rebuilding emotional safety, especially among displaced or grieving populations.
In the past year, I have worked on the In Our Shoes project, which uses Live Action Role Play (LARP) to engage with the lived experience of refugees. The project has shown me how participatory and embodied play builds emotional literacy and fosters resilience. In parallel, I’ve been reflecting on communities affected by war, particularly people remaining in Ukraine, and the need for trauma-informed interventions that are accessible, scalable, and culturally responsive.
An inspiring initiative in this context is UA.Ants, a volunteer-led organisation supporting bereaved Ukrainian families, which I’ve been supporting via initiative I’ve founded called Creatives for Ukraine. Their camp-based model includes outdoor quests, music, yoga, and shared storytelling activities (video). Motivated by these shared values, I contacted the director to explore co-creating a game to support emotional processing and resilience using GBL to support people in trauma.
Ammannato and Chiesi (2024) describe game environments as “transitional spaces” that allow individuals to symbolically revisit traumatic experiences in a controlled, metaphorical manner. As they put it, “gameplay allows for the emergence of unspoken memories, for the construction of meaning, and for the reprocessing of traumatic events in a less threatening way.” These therapeutic dimensions of play offer a compelling argument for game-based healing within community-led care structures. By enabling players to create avatars and explore emotional narratives, games can restore a sense of agency, encourage symbolic distance, and foster post-traumatic growth. This aligns with Game Over, Trauma!‘s emphasis on trauma-informed care rooted in the Person-Centred Approach (PCA), where empathy and co-creation are central.
Kusumandari’s (2025) recent study from Indonesia takes these ideas further by offering quantitative evidence of trauma-informed GBL’s impact. A post-earthquake intervention involving 42 children aged 7–12 showed significant reductions in trauma symptoms and increased learning motivation. Importantly, the intervention integrated trauma-sensitive pedagogical principles within a digital game environment, illustrating how emotional regulation, cognitive stimulation, and motivation can co-exist within game-based learning. The qualitative findings also highlighted improved emotional expression and classroom participation, demonstrating how trauma-informed GBL fosters both recovery and re-engagement with learning.
This evidence reinforces my belief that trauma-informed game design should be implemented not only in post-disaster contexts, but also in war-torn, refugee, and displaced communities. Games can act as gentle bridges—helping participants re-engage with themselves, others, and their futures, while building resilience in the process.
My continuing work in this field as an artist, game researcher, and educator is driven by the belief that trauma-informed game-based learning is not just a theoretical ideal—it is a practical, scalable, and human-centred solution for healing in crisis.
Additionaly, considering the guidance and resources at UAL, including the Fostering Belonging and Compassionate Pedagogy strand, I feel a renewed hope for using more effective methods to support learning. As someone who has often felt like an outsider in many ways — navigating unfamiliar institutions, languages, and cultural cues — I deeply resonate with the idea that belonging is not about “fitting in,” but about feeling genuinely welcomed for who you are.
Reading that belonging is an affective, social, and relational experience — one that constantly shifts throughout a student’s journey — made me pause and reflect on how many of my own students might feel similarly unseen or misunderstood. This strand doesn’t try to offer a one-size-fits-all solution, which is a relief. It acknowledges the complexity and nuance of belonging, inviting us instead to listen carefully, notice those subtle emotional cues, and respond with genuine compassion.
Alos, one concept on that topic that especially stayed with me is Mary Rowe’s idea of micro-affirmations (2008). It is those small but powerful acts that communicate, “I see you, and you matter.” In my teaching, I’ve begun intentionally naming students’ contributions more frequently and following up when someone is absent — not as a form of surveillance, but as an expression of care and connection. Building that emotional safety net isn’t just about improving retention statistics; it’s about creating a space where students feel secure enough to take risks, to be creative, and ultimately to thrive.
References
Ammannato, G. and Chiesi, F. (2024) ‘Game Over, Trauma! Empowering Trauma Healing Through Gaming’, in Annetta, L. and Stanley, R. (eds.) Games and Simulations in Teacher Education: Advancing Mental Health and Well-being. Cham: Springer, pp. 459–472.
Kusumandari, R.B. (2025) ‘Trauma-Informed Game-Based Learning: A Technological Approach to Enhancing Children’s Resilience in Post-Disaster Education’, International Journal of Learning, Teaching and Educational Research, 24(7), pp. 611–623. https://doi.org/10.26803/ijlter.24.7.30
de Byl, P. and Young, J. (2024) ‘Game-based learning and playful approaches to mental health recovery’, in Annetta, L. and Stanley, R. (eds.) Games and Simulations in Teacher Education: Advancing Mental Health and Well-being. Cham: Springer, pp. 447–458. Available at: https://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1007/978-3-031-43404-4_31
Hi, I’m Alina — an illustrator, game artist, game designer, and researcher. I currently teach at University of the Arts London and Arts University Bournemouth, where I specialise in game-based learning, interactive media, and the intersections between art, ethics, and play. PgCert I see as an opportunity to reflect on my teaching and creative practice.
My background is quite interdisciplinary: I hold degrees in Graphic Art, Illustration, Cultural and Social Pedagogy, and a PhD in Game Design. My doctoral work explored cognition in games through the lens of my board game Exodus, and I continue to be fascinated by how games can act as vessels for thought, empathy, learning, and transformation.
I design and research serious games, games for social change, and games as artistic and educational tools. Much of my creative and academic practice revolves around how we tell stories — visually, systemically, and playfully — to make sense of the world and help others do the same. A recent example of this is the bibliographical micro-LARP In Our Shoes, created in response to the refugee crisis, which aimed to foster empathy through embodied role-play.
As an educator, I’m always searching for ways to make learning more inclusive, interdisciplinary, and humane. I see my role not just as someone who imparts knowledge, but as a facilitator who helps students connect their own passions, identities, and lived experiences with their creative outputs. I’m particularly drawn to dialogic and reflective pedagogies — approaches that encourage students to explore who they are through what they make.
Joining the PgCert feels like an important commitment — a space to rethink my approach to feedback, inclusion, assessment, and care. I’m especially looking forward to learning from other colleagues across disciplines and exploring how to continue building safe, playful, and intellectually rich classrooms. I also hope to reflect more deeply on the ethics of teaching in creative education, especially in an era of rapid technological change and social pressure.
This course is both a professional investment and a personal one. As someone who bridges industry, academia, and activism, I’m always trying to stay grounded in purpose. I want to nurture not just technically proficient artists or designers, but emotionally aware, ethically minded human beings. Here’s to rethinking, unlearning, and growing — together.
Earlier I was busy with three work trips in a raw, one of which was a research trip to Finland. Apart from giving a talk on Game as a Form of Art (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LC0bLvWCha8), I was working on the research project.
In partnership with Games as Art Center we are facilitating the “In Our Shoes” workshop 3 April 2025 at Tampere University. It was a deeply emotional and academically enriching experience. Watching participants embody characters based on composite refugee narratives — some drawn from my own lived experiences and testimonies — was both cathartic and unsettling. It felt like standing at the boundary of memory and simulation, watching empathy unfold in real-time. One participant confessed, “I’ve never had anything as challenging to decide in my life” — a reminder that role-play can evoke visceral emotional engagement (Bowman, 2010).
The most challenging aspect was observing moments where players trivialised or misunderstood the gravity of certain decisions. This reflects the tension between immersion and detachment in live-action role-play (LARP), especially when the subject matter is ethically loaded (Harviainen, 2012). Yet even in these moments, the workshop served its purpose: to provoke dialogue, reflection, and emotional resonance through play (Frasca, 2007).
What surprised and relieved me was the depth of care and attentiveness participants brought to the scenarios. Despite the mixed media format (with online facilitation and asynchronous elements), the workshop fostered a strong sense of unity and co-presence. The structure — alternating between scenario play, script writing, and playtesting — created a rhythm of reflection and creative agency.
One design insight that emerged was the limited utility of secret cards in the Zero Days Living as Me scenario. Players either ignored them or revealed them too early. In future iterations, I would incorporate clearer dramaturgical cues to manage disclosure pacing and encourage narrative tension (Montola, 2012).
Ultimately, “In Our Shoes” reaffirmed my belief that games — especially when co-created and embodied — can be powerful vehicles for social imagination and affective learning. As educators and designers, we hold the tools to make the unspeakable playable — responsibly.
References:
Bowman, S.L. (2010). The Functions of Role-Playing Games.
Frasca, G. (2007). Play the Message: Play, Game and Videogame Rhetoric.
Harviainen, J.T. (2012). “Systemic LARP Design”.
Montola, M. (2012). On the Edge of the Magic Circle.
MacFarlane and Gorley (2009) in The Reflection Game explore the dynamics of reflective practice within educational settings, with an emphasis on the use of games to promote deeper self-awareness and critical thinking. The central argument of their work is that reflective practices, when integrated into teaching and learning, foster personal growth and can help learners critically engage with their experiences. This aligns with the idea that reflection is not just about reviewing past actions but about recontextualising those actions within new frameworks for understanding.
In the context of my own teaching, incorporating reflective exercises based on game theory can engage students in a way that traditional methods do not. The act of reflection within games encourages active participation, which MacFarlane and Gorley suggest can be more impactful than passive reflection. For instance, the use of role-play scenarios or simulated challenges within games allows students to step outside of their own immediate perspectives, offering new insights into their decisions and behaviors (MacFarlane & Gorley, 2009). It’s what we incorporated in the LARP “In Our Shoes” (see blog post https://apotemska.myblog.arts.ac.uk/2025/04/30/in-our-shoes/).
However, a challenge I found in integrating such methods is balancing the theoretical aspects of reflection with the practical dynamics of gameplay. MacFarlane and Gorley highlight the importance of context in shaping reflective outcomes. Thus, it is essential that games be carefully structured to align with learning outcomes and foster critical reflection rather than merely entertaining students.
In conclusion, MacFarlane and Gorley’s work underscores the value of reflective practice in enhancing educational outcomes. The integration of reflective games offers students opportunities to engage critically with their learning in a dynamic and transformative way (Steventon et al., 2016; MacFarlane & Gorley, 2009).
References:
MacFarlane, R., & Gorley, A. (2009). The Reflection Game: enacting the penitent self. Teaching in Higher Education.
Steventon, G., Cureton, D., & Clouder, C. (2016). Attainment in Higher Education: Issues, Controversies and Debates. Routledge.
