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Justin Lee
Hanson, 3
Junior Seminar
May 8, 2014
The Logistics of Getting Shot
An Ethnography on Tactical Airsoft Arena

Introduction
What do you get when you combine plastic BBs with air compression machines? This is
airsoft, a sport of military-esque tactics where everyday people get to feel like soldiers. You hear
about it all the time: some poor kid gets shot dead by the police because he points his airsoft gun
at them. The Internet sure doesnt give it much respite, constantly making fun of the sport as a
money pit and a past time of dumb teens and wannabe soldiers with too much time on their
hands. Ill admit, I believed this information; airsoft really seemed like a pointless venture,
similar to owning a Harley motorcycle: you think you look cool but everyone knows youre
either part of a bike gang or just a Vietnam vet with a questionable past.
So thats why I decided to research Tactical Airsoft Arena (TAA), a place to play airsoft
right in Rockville. I had heard several students went there themselves, and with curiosity getting
the better of me, I decided to see for myself if the mainstream opinion of sport held true after all.
It perplexed me as to how people could spend so much money on fake guns; some of their toys
could easily go into the hundreds, even for new players.



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Research
Airsoft originated in Japan, then spread to Hong Kong and China in the late 1970s. The
main point of the game is to tag opposing players out by shooting them. Over the years, this
basic concept has turned into a worldwide phenomenon, ushering in international appeal. Players
range from children to adults, and the sport can be played from a backyard shooting with friends
or at a larger facility, like TAA. Players can be casual or, for most, can be a time to dress up like
a military operator due to the sports inherent likeness to modern combat. The sport revolves
around the airsoft gun, which are almost always designed after a real world firearm. They can
propel BBs at incredibly quick and powerful rates, and the pain from being hit is one of the
sports best known features. Airsoft guns can be broken down into two main types. There are
AEGs (Automatic Electric Gun), electric-powered airsoft replicas that typically use a
rechargeable battery to drive an electric motor, which cycles an internal piston/spring assembly
in order to launch pellets. They are the most commonly used and widely available type of airsoft
gun. There are also GBBs (Gas Blow Back). Usually in the form of handguns, gas blow back
guns are powered by green gas, CO2, or propane. These guns are named due to their unique
effect of realistic recoil, using the gas to propel the piston forward, instead of using gears, as an
AEG would. Contrary to popular belief, these are toys first and foremost, and cannot be
converted to a real firearm ever. And even with all the recklessness that seems to emanate from
the sport, it appears that safety is one of the top concerns of event organizers.





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Observations
Unfortunately, TAA is not located in one of our shining suburban shopping centers. No,
its right in the heart of Rockville, and its in the industrial center at that. That made sense when I
was driving there. After all, if there was anything that costs a lot in this county, it had to have
been space. This realization still did not make for a comfortable time as I passed beat down
trucks, countless auto stores with empty lots, and construction equipment every which way. And
here Id thought Id never set foot in the shady part of town.
It took about twenty minutes to get there from my house, and when I pulled into the lot, it
was opening time at TAA, exactly 6:00 PM for a Friday night. The building itself was actually
pretty innocent in appearance. All it had was a large green sign with Tactical Airsoft Arena in
white shining over the door. The building itself is located in an industrial park, and I noticed that
there was also an ice rink and sports center up the way.
The people at the door seemed to fit the spitting image of the typical airsoft player. Many
of them were donning military camouflage, and were holding large bags likely full of guns and
other gear. There was, however, another group, which wore regular clothing. At a glance, it
seemed like most of them were in college at least, although I did see some high school kids.
There was even a girl. It didnt take long for the door to swing open, and the crowd headed on in.
When I entered, the first thing I noticed were the walls. They were all wood with hooks
sticking out of them. If there werent vests, pouches, or holsters, hanging off them, youd be sure
to find airsoft guns, which all hung in proud display behind the counter. In display cases and
hanging in plastic boxes were the accessories: flashlights, lasers, scopes, sights, springs, gears,
batteries, gas, and magazines for each and every gun. I felt like Id walked in on an arms market
in some nondescript African country. I paid the admission of $15 and sat myself down.
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You see all these guys with vests and camo, and here I am all normal, said Ian Goldberg,
a second time player at the arena. Lining the edge were benches and shelves for players to sit
their stuff down, and already I could see the ones in camo suiting up for a tour in the arena. In
one corner, one group began donning vests with pouch after pouch, buckling down ends and
strapping down flaps. Next to them, someone started loading their magazines, about ten of them,
by pouring hundreds of BB down a hatch. After about a minute, the guns became coming out.
One had an M4A1, another an AK47, someone had brought an M1911A1 pistol painted like the
American flag. I really stood out without the dress for combat success.
Over at the far counter was the rental area, and I saw the people in civilian clothing
grabbing their rental guns off the counter, the arenas G36C rifle. Compared to everyone else,
they stood out like a sore thumb. Instead of talking about guns and gear, they talked about school
and social life. I could tell there was going to be a divide between these two groups: the vets and
the draftees.
It was 6:17 PM when the ref called first game. The staff had said no entry without a mask,
so I slipped one on from a shelf. It smelled like adrenaline, and was a little uncomfortable, but if
it saved my face from getting shot up, then I was fine with it. The arena itself was rather
unimpressive at first glance. Theyd taken the back room of the parks standard building and
simply inserted plywood walls to create rooms and cover. The place was covered in graffiti, and
in the corner was the firing range complete with steel targets and a skateboard ramp. It seems
like they took whatever they could get their hands on and decided to make money off it. So far, it
seemed like society was right. It was all about kids with nothing better to do paying for toy guns
to play soldier in places like this.
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Once everyone had entered the arena, however, the mood began to change. The only noise
heard was the wrrrt of AEGs and the poof of gas guns as BBs hit the steel targets down
range. The ref stood on the ramp and began shouting on the numerous safety rules to ensure
nobody ended up at with a BB in their eye by the end of the night.
Dont point your gun at the ceiling. We have lights up there.
Everyone must chronograph their gun. We dont want any high power guns, they hurt.
Do not lift your mask off your face while youre in here. If you must, please exit the
arena first.
Call your hits. Airsofts all about honesty. If you think someones cheating, tell me.
Safe, controlled, honest, these are the last words I thought Id use to describe people acting
out military fantasies.
By 6:45 PM, the group was split into teams for a 6 vs. 6 games, and were given blue or
yellow armbands to mark their allegiance for the rest of the night. The renters a split up evenly to
ensure that each team is balanced in skill level. The teams are put in their spawn rooms, and I
climbed up the ladder to the ref tower on top to get a better view of the game. In the moments
before action, the team discusses strategy. Want to go left or right? said one. Im just gonna
follow you guys, said one of the renters.
3, 2, 1, GAME ON! At the signal, the teams poured out of the rooms, racing to the key
corners of the arena that would give them an advantage. It took seconds for them to clash.
Instantly, two ran up and shot each other out at the same time, both calling Hit! and raising one
hand up. Two yellows hit the advancing blue behind, and successfully too the corner. The blue
team took advantage of the yellow teams slow speed and quickly locked down the other corner,
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spitting BBs at anyone who dare moved out of cover. In ten seconds, the flow of the game had
already been decided, with the two corners serving as the fronts for confrontation.
It took seconds for the dead to walk back to their spawns and come back into the land of
them living. From there, it was a test of wits and bravery.
Hey, where are they? a yellow whispered to his teammate.
Therere two right around the corner, he responded. Think you can get them?
Ill provide suppressing fire. Go around the corner and flank them.
At the signal, one popped around from cover to fire rounds and keep the blues down, while
the other sprinted around the room, avoiding potential fire thanks to his teammate. Before blue
could react, the two yellow moved up in a pincer attack and shot them both out. Meanwhile at
the other corner, yellow continued solidified their position, with three players covering the blue
advance at different angles to avoid all of them being hit at once. Meanwhile, the blue team was
now trapped on both sides, with the entire team firing out of their spawn to cull the advancing
yellow. With no one willing to risk the instant death of advancing, the game became a stalemate.
Silence fell over the arena, with the occasional shots from those exchanging blind fire. In a
pickle, the blue team discussed tactics.
Great now were surrounded, said one of the renters, rubbing a spot on his leg and
grunting from pain. Howre we gonna get out of this?
Relax, man, one of the more experienced players said. Come on, we have to break out
of here. We all got to rush them.
You enjoy suicide, man? another renter asked. You can go die if you want.
The blue team reached a consensus, piling up along the walls to prepare for a rush. One
thing I noticed quickly was that none of the renters were ever the first to go. They hung out in the
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back, ready to follow but also ready to retreat at the first hint of getting hit. Even the renters on
the yellow team hung back, not willing to be the first to get hit. It was those in the camo and
vests that ended up having to do most of the pushing and shooting. From a pack of strangers,
clear leaders established themselves, with others willing to follow for the possibility of success.
The rush was an immediate failure. Those that decided to rush only took out one or two
before getting shot to bits. They walked back shamefully, rubbing their arms and legs in pain.
With most of the resistance wiped out, yellow team moved in for the kill, easily sweeping out
those that stayed behind, losing only one in the process. The rest of the game featured suicide
runs and suppressing fire as blue team failed to release themselves from their trap. There was
plenty of swearing and accusations of others not calling their hits. By the time the ref ended the
game at 7:08 PM, the blue team had all but given up. Guns were emptied and switch to safe as I
climbed down and left for the lobby.
The players looked like they had just gone through war when they came out. They were
drenched in sweat, and many had sullen looks on their faces. Plenty had new battle scars, with
red welts dotting their limbs from previous hits. I completely expected a shout-fest to break out
once the teams encountered each other. But as the lobby filled once more, the silence turned into
celebration, the blank stares into smiles and laughter. Friends patted each other on the back for a
good game, and even though those on the blue team lost horribly, their hatred of the yellow team
during the game immediately vanished. Blue complimented yellow for their tactics and kills, and
yellow did the same to blue. Bitter enemies turned heartfelt companions in mere seconds. No
major sport I know of would have seen such friendly interactions between two teams. I left with
a new view of the sport. It was not just wannabe soldiers, it was true sportsmanship, involving
true effort and legitimate gameplay. I was beginning to see the appeal.
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The next Friday night brought a whole new side of the game to my eyes. I had decided to
loan a black vest from one of my friends to blend in more with the crowd. Being spring break, by
the time I was at the door, there was many more people waiting to get in. With the vest, I felt a
little more comfortable, and I could definitely see how much of a confidence boost it could be, as
when I asked someone to shoot me in it, I felt almost nothing.
The crowd this time was much larger, and by the time the first game had ended, I counted
30+ people in the lobby. Numbers changed the nature of the gameplay quite a bit. The second
game featured a capture the flag objective, and I noticed how crucial directing the team became
to the outcome. Teams assigned flag attackers and flag defenders, and corners and rooms began
piling up with several people at a time, creating large force engagements for certain sections of
the arena.
It was in the chaos of a larger battle that I saw how the individual mattered as much as the
team. When the yellow teams flags were left unguarded due to poor team coordination, it took
one lone person to run back and forth, take all the flags, and win the round for the entire team.
Another round, when the blue team was suppressing the yellow team on one side, a yellow
player wearing a red Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts and flip flops wielding two pistols took one for
the team, summoning the audacity to run behind the blue team and catch them entirely off guard.
He successfully gunned down 13 players before he was shot all over when he ran out of
ammunition. His single act of bravery released the yellow team from its trap, and let it win the
round in the end. It was completely worth it, he said when I asked him about it later. Sure, I
could have died instantly, and Ive got a ton of welts from it, but it was really satisfying and fun
as hell. He was hailed as the hero of the game and every single person he had killed
congratulated him on it afterwards.
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Caption: The vest my friend loaned me for the arena, jokingly loaded with patches and a spork.