Outside the Box

A pizza box shield. A small, rectangular Amazon package with two eye slits cut into it makes a perfect helmet. Boxes that once protected a toilet tank and a flat-screen television now protect a teenager’s torso. And dozens of pieces of small, handmade weaponry: swords and knives, staffs and bludgeoning tools. All of it made from discarded cardboard and ready for combat. 

At the event organizer’s command, two teams sprint across the small green at the Carrboro Town Commons, crashing into each other near the center. 

“No headshots!” the organizer shouts, reminding the overeager warriors of one of the cardinal rules of the day. Cardboard broadswords swing through the air, landing with a thud on thick cardboard body armor. Small claws of cardboard and painters tape rip and pull at their opponents’ fastenings. 

The Cardboard Wars might not be an “only in Carrboro” sort of thing, but it’s definitely something you’d expect to find in the artsy little town next to Chapel Hill.

The Cardboard Wars are the brainchild of Jessica Love, a freshman at Chapel Hill High School. Inspired by an event in Australia called “Boxwars,” the Cardboard Wars is a form of live-action role playing, or LARPing, an immersive, storytelling-based game in which participants typically dress up as fantasy characters, medieval warriors, knights, elves, mages, and rogues.

“I like to build things and then fight with them,” Love explained.

Redonea vs. Blueingtonn

The April battle was the second iteration of the event. The first, held last December, drew some 30 combatants and several dozen spectators. Love relied on her friends and schoolmates to help spread the word. She also reached out to local news outlets like radio station WCHL and the community blog Triangle Blog Blog, which is where I learned of the event. 

The spring rematch was a bit more sparsely attended, with about a dozen warriors ranging from ages 5 through their late teens and early 20s. Despite the dip in numbers, the fight was no less exciting, according to some of the more seasoned cardboard warriors. 

Love’s Cardboard Wars were a bit less focused on storytelling than a typical LARP event—we spectators knew little more than red team versus blue team, or the Nation of Redonea versus the Republic of Blueingtonn—though a few of the cardboard warriors had a well-honed backstory. 

“I am The Pillar,” said one of the blue team’s warriors, a local high school student who didn’t want to give his real name. 

“I am the leader of the Carcinization Nation,” he continued, referring to the evolutionary process in which non-crab crustaceans develop crab-like bodies. “I am a couple of million years old.”

An experienced cardboard warrior, The Pillar explained how his armor, weaponry—massive clawlike arms to bludgeon his opponents, a trio of axes stored on his back, and even a crotch protector to, well, you know—and accoutrement including a crab taped to his underside, took the better part of a week to create using cardboard, hot glue, tape, and paint. 

The Pillar was joined by The Carapace,a subordinate in the Carcinization Nation and the warrior with the most intricately crafted suit of armor. 

“I was summoned by my leader,” The Carapace, who also appeared to be high school age, said, motioning to The Pillar with claw-like hands. “And through the ritual, I joined the Carcinization Nation.” 

What exactly does “the ritual” entail, I asked.

“Summoning,” The Carapace said, refusing to elaborate further, lest I summon my own warriors to stand against the Carcinization Nation.

The Wild Rumpus Starts

While it was clear that a few warriors spent hours building their detailed weaponry and armor—some of which looked more like manga-style mech suits than anything medieval or fantastical—others showed up in minimal gear with little weaponry, or even completely empty handed and unprotected. 

Preempting this and wanting to be inclusive of anyone looking to join the fracas, Love came to the fight with heaping piles of extra cardboard, scissors, straight razors, and three different kinds of tape. 

To wit, my 8-year-old son, who came along on this reporting trip, was resolute that he had no interest in entering the fray. Then he saw not only the creativity on display but how much fun everyone seemed to be having as they prepared for the battles. In no time, he began quietly fashioning a small broadsword out of the pile of extra cardboard and asking me to help size up his body armor. 

As the warriors put the finishing touches on their armor and weapons, a parent pointed out that the sides were wildly uneven. There were seven blue fighters against only two red warriors. It seemed that most of the little kids were drawn to the Carcinization Nation, thanks to the outsized style of The Pillar and The Carapace. As a few stragglers rolled in, Love assigned them to the Nation of Redonea, evening things out as best she could. 

Everyone ready, all weapons checked and approved by Love, she directed each side to opposite edges of the small field at the center of Carrboro Town Commons. Behind each, she placed a flag—one red, one blue. The battle was on, capture-the-flag style. Teams needed to seize the opposing flag and return it safely to their base to be crowned victors. 

Love’s rules of engagement for Cardboard Wars were simple: Have your weapons checked before the fight, no head shots, and once your armor is destroyed or torn from your body, you’re out. Other than that, it’s a melee with little direction from Love, and the warriors are hemmed in only by the boundaries of the grassy field. 

Rule No. 3 seemed to allow the warriors to have the most fun. Cardboard is incredibly sturdy, and destroying it to the point where it fell from anyone’s body took time and repeated blows, stabs, swipes, and even rips. It wasn’t until the third battle of the day, an all-versus-one “boss battle” in which Love told everyone to attack The Pillar, that most of the armor began to fall away from the fighters’ bodies. 

After two games of capture the flag, and the boss battle, each lasting about 10 to 15 minutes, the Cardboard Wars ended. The yellowing grass at the center of Carrboro Town Commons was strewn with detritus: scraps of cardboard, bits of tape, tips of swords, handles, and hilts. A few tears needed drying, especially amongst the younger set. A few scrapes and bruises needed tending. 

As the warriors cleaned up their battlefield, picking up the remnants of the fight and piling them beneath a shady tree, Love reminded everyone to come out for the next Cardboard Wars, which she’ll host in November. 

The fighters quickly reverted to being just a group of kids. A few reenacted their favorite moves from the battle, while others headed off for ice cream. 

For several of the warriors, ultra-creative and imaginative kids who spent the better part of the previous two hours beating the shit out of each other under a hot springtime sun, it seemed that the Cardboard Wars were both a means to commune over a shared love of fantasy and a way to flex their artistic muscles. 

Why waste a beautiful day playing Dungeons and Dragons or fantasy video games at home when you can get outside and fight the demons—in this case, an army of crab-like humanoids—yourself?