PAX begins, as many large gatherings do, with queues. But walking in, it’s easy to see that this isn’t the usual motley assortment one might see while waiting for an ordinary concert to begin. People here share similarities – they wear clothing adorned with the logos of games, snippets of Penny Arcade, or markings of allegiances Horde or Alliance. Some display no plumage at all, while others clothe themselves with costumes elaborate and fun. People standing in line range all sorts of ages and ethnicities, but despite all the difference for appearances, the difference in origins, everybody in the queue stands together. Everybody knows, that on some level, all the people around them share the same loves – loves for gaming, for sitting with friends going through a dungeon, for fragging a noob with a sweet headshot, for taking down a raid with guildies in record time. Everybody stands together, because they have all stood together before, in queues to enter a busy realm, in lobbies waiting for a new game, in chat rooms shooting the breeze with other bored questers. This is a culture usually traveled by electrons, bridged by silicon and copper, brought together in real space. It’s a sweet note, to be able to see and smell and feel for one’s self that their culture is a real thing, built and inhabited by people who exist.
Days go by quickly like this, as people talk to one another, as they share stories and favorites. Time slides by while looking through exhibition halls at ridiculous amounts of computers, games, and merchandise. It sneaks forward while one wanders the floors, looking in on games of D&D and LAN tournaments. The only parts that really seem to stick, where time holds still, are in the moments. Anybody who was there could probably think of a few – watching the witch from L4D chase somebody – seeing, for the first time, Hokins and Krahulik onstage, answering questions and being witty right before one’s very own eyes – hearing a crowd, waiting in another queue, burst into song along with Still Alive. These are the moments that stick, the moments that make this culture really seem like something worth being part of. But the grains of time still go, people tire, and too soon it becomes time to say goodbye.
As quickly as it assembles in the mornings, PAX flies apart again when it ends. People go flowing out the doors, back to hotels to check out and get luggage. There’s a large group here in the lobby, and still a few on the street, but then the highway or airport is reached. One might see a few badges at a rest stop on the Interstate, and then maybe later one or two again, but eventually they are gone as people separate back out into their homes, like particles flying out of an atom that can’t hold itself together anymore. But we take back more than we left with; we take back the CDs, DVDs, and books signed by the physical incarnations of our favorite charming geeks – we take back the memories of our culture, implanted safely in metal archives to be drawn back and remembered. We return to screen names, and forum handles, but know more than ever after PAX that what we have is real – made by real people who are friendly, charming, and likable, and we know that someday we can see them again in the shining, cohesive forces of PAX.
queue stands together. Everybody knows, that on some level, all the people around them share the same loves – loves for gaming, for sitting with friends going through a dungeon, for fragging a noob with a
sweet headshot, for taking down a raid with guildies in record time. Everybody stands together, because they have all stood together before, in queues to enter a busy realm, in lobbies waiting for a new
game, in chat rooms shooting the breeze with other bored questers. This is a culture usually traveled by electrons, bridged by silicon and copper, brought together in real space. It’s a sweet note, to be
able to see and smell and feel for one’s self that their culture is a real thing, built and inhabited by people who exist.
Days go by quickly like this, as people talk to one another, as they share stories and favorites. Time slides by, while looking through exhibition halls at ridiculous amounts of computers, games, and
merchandise. It sneaks forward while one wanders the floors, looking in on games of D&D and LAN tournaments. The only parts that really seem to stick, where time holds still, are in the moments. Anybody who
was there could probably think of a few – watching the witch from L4D chase somebody – seeing, for the first time, Hokins and Krahulik onstage, answering questions and being witty right before one’s very own
eyes – hearing a crowd, waiting in another queue, burst into song along with Still Alive. These are the moments that stick, the moments that make this culture really seem like something worth being part of.
But the grains of time still go, people tire, and too soon it becomes time to say goodbye.
As quickly as it assembles in the mornings, PAX flies apart again when it ends. People go flowing out the doors, back to hotels to check out and get luggage. There’s a large group here in the lobby,
and still a few on the street, but then the highway or airport is reached. One might see a few badges at a rest stop on the Interstate, and then maybe later one or two, but eventually they are gone as people
separate back out into their neighborhoods, like particles flying out of an atom that can’t hold itself together anymore. But we take back more than we left with; we take back the CDs, DVDs, and books signed
by the physical incarnations of our favorite geeky bands and people – we take back the memories of our culture, implanted safely in chemicals to be drawn back and remembered. We return to screen names, and
forum handles, but know more than ever after PAX that what we have is real – made by real people who are friendly, charming, and likeable, and that someday we can see them again in the shining, cohesive
forces of PAX.
