Twirling a broom handle sword and shielded with a garbage can lid, Tony Kukal began playing medieval hero as a teen.

As a fan of the fantasy genre, the Iselin native felt compelled to go beyond reading books and watching films. He and his classmates acted out epic tales in the woods.

Although he explored the dark side of mythology with "Dungeons and Dragons," his favorite character was Robin Hood.

"It was like, ‘I want to be that guy,’" says Kukal, 41, of Millville. "My friends and I would run around and throw rolled up pieces of newspaper to cast magic spells on each other. It was fun."

Some 25 years later, Kukal is still inviting people to stage fantastical battles in rustic settings. These days, however, the adventures involve as many as 125 amateur performers.

His group, Mystic Realms, is built around a hobby called live action role-playing, otherwise known as LARPing. It’s best described as paintball or laser tag with a Tolkien twist, a fusion of combat sports and storytelling that allows grownups to play like kids.

Throughout the summer, Kukal and company transform backyards and campgrounds into olden villages for weekend productions of loosely scripted fables.

Their most popular narrative, "The Glory of Guildhall," has been ongoing for a decade-and-a-half. Each event is a new chapter in the saga, which follows a group of guildsmen protecting the planet from monsters and sorcerers.

"We’re here to entertain each other," says Kukal, a father of three who served with the National Guard. "This is about the expression of creativity. We’re trying to create a world in which we can improve our acting abilities."

While the theatrics are similar to the skirmishes presented at renaissance fairs, LARPers don’t cross swords for spectators. Everyone is in costume, in character and "in game" as scenes unfold over the course of two days.

"Sometimes, people ask me if they can watch," says player Noah Gershkowitz, 35, of Monroe, who works for the state motor vehicle agency. His character, Eric, is a gypsy bard.

"I tell people that if they want to watch the performance, they also have to be a performer. Everybody that’s there as the audience is also involved in the story. There’s no docile group of people watching us," Gershkowitz says.

A bad rap for role-players

Fantasy role-playing is a hobby often depicted as an obsession, linked to games like "Dungeons & Dungeons" and its computer cousin, "World of Warcraft."

The complexity of the adventures, combined with their focus on power and conflict, has created a stereotype of fanatical players whose gaming leads to real life confrontations.

With Mystic Realms, Kukal wants to present the activity as a healthy social outlet.

"We’re about teaching organizational and leadership skills," Kukal says. "A lot of people who like fantasy are introverted, and I see this as a way of helping them build confidence while exposing them to the activities that I did in Boy Scouts and the military."

Kukal’s wife, Bobbi, is a cast member, portraying characters including gypsies and highlanders.

The two met as role-players in a North Jersey LARP when Bobbi was pursuing an acting career in New York. She now teaches second grade at Fairfield Township School in Bridgeton, where she was initially shy about sharing her hobby.

"It took awhile," Bobbi says. "Role-playing used to get a lot of negative press. People thought that we were evil and worshipping all these things. Now, it’s better known."

When the couple runs a big event, their kids go to stay with their grandparents because there is so much to oversee. Bobbi says her eldest daughter, age 9, understands LARPing. In fact, the hobby is now high-profile enough to be mocked on family TV — the Disney Channel show "Good Luck Charlie" featured a LARP episode.

"They made the LARP look dumb," Bobbi says. "People will say, ‘You take it so seriously. Do you live that?’ I tell them, ‘No but I play it for the weekend.’ It’s fun. It’s playing dress-up."

Kukal avoids using the term, LARP.

"I call it an ‘interactive theatrical experience," Kukal says. "Our goal is to make the games realistic, but we know it’s a fantasy game. We’re not weirdos in the woods who think it’s real."

A community begins to grow

Mystic Realms is one of several long-running Garden State LARPs. The community got a boost and the games grew more elaborate after the "Lord of the Rings" movie franchise hit theaters 10 years ago.

Kukal’s group hosted its first big siege of the season last month at a Boy Scout camp in the Pine Barrens. The site, down a sandy road near the town of Tabernacle, was strewn with tapestries to create a sense of place. More than 100 participants turned out, including 11 first-timers.

Wearing a blue beret and color-coordinated puffy shirt, Kukal portrayed a scholar named Kendrick Kane. The character was like a guide, directing troupe members as they delivered improvised speeches and clashed with weapons made of foamy fabrics.

"We had a big war last night that lasted for four hours,’" says Kukal, who runs Mystic Realms full time and dreams of one day getting a rule book published.

"The whole place was lit up, with smoke generators going and loud music playing on speakers. I think we put on a great show," he says. "This is better than going to a movie."

LARPing is cost-effective escapism. Camping fees range between $20 and $40 while costumes can be hand-sewn. If anything, the complexities of modern life are contributing to the appeal of weekend chivalry.

"When you come here, you forget the pressures from work and all that," says Phil Hart, 32, a biology teacher from Brick. "You just play your character and forget about the world outside … My character is a highlander and he takes nothing from nobody."

Each player creates his or her own character in collaboration with Kukal and the writing team. Points are tallied as warriors build skill sets and defeat antagonists. They can only take a certain number of hits from mock swords, arrows and projectiles before they are fatally wounded and must fall.

"If you run out of points, you starting bleeding by dropping down to one knee," explains Hart. "You count to 150 and then you die. From there, they take you to do a ritual to bring you back so you get back in the game and keep on playing. Death is just a minute and a half time out. It’s almost like dodge ball."