PAX'09: Out Of The Basement
[NOTE: This PAX'09 wrap-up concludes my series of posts on the Expo at Seattle's PubliCola.net.]
If it’s the “biggest games show in the nation,” what does that mean?
For last weekend’s 6th annual Penny Arcade Expo, you can take your pick of answers: Expanding to the WSCC’s 6th floor to max out the hall. Surpassing an attendance count of 60,000. The number of video and board games that were free to play. The number of game industry hotshots who spoke at panels. The number of swine flu cases—enough to nationally rebrand the virus as H1Nerd1.
I saw a different answer beyond the massive crowds, the bombardment of screens, and the electricity bills. This year, more than any before it, PAX was a known quantity in its hometown.
“Wish I could be there!” my bus driver hollered as a college kid boarded with his PAX badge around his neck. Lest her nerd cred be questioned, the driver rapped with this guy for a second about the new World of Warcraft expansion. In the back of the same bus, another woman talked about PAX and video games in general, then harassed everyone around her about Wired‘s recent “real life” game story.
As has been PAX tradition, the show has no promotional budget. The show sends e-mails to the press and hoists banners downtown, but that’s it. PAX isn’t on the same local level as the Seahawks reaching the Super Bowl, but PAX chatter was audible for the past week. Whether I heard it on buses, at restaurants, at bars, or in stores, PAX no longer required explanations of what the letters stand for.
Even the grayest-haired woman working the door didn’t need an explanation. WSCC staffer Doreen is plenty familiar with the world of PAX, though that might be because of her son. “He likes video games, but not these kinds of video games,” she told me Saturday night, explaining he was more of a military-war gamer (a fact that distressed her). “I used to take my three kids to the Wizards [of the Coast] store, where they’d play Magic, or Dungeons & Dragons, or those kinds of games. Now…” she trailed off. I asked if her kids have “moved on.”
“Well,” Doreen said as sweetly as she could, “I’ll just say that it’s nice to see people enjoying these fantasy worlds so much. It’d be nice if sometimes they spent less energy building the fantasy and more energy on their reality.”
I smiled and nodded, trying to be sweet, but I’d reached such a different conclusion by then. See, I asked most PAX-goers questions like “What’s been your favorite thing at PAX?” and “What are you most excited about this year,” and it took a while to make sense of their lousy answers. I almost shrugged it off by saying gamers are too shy to make good conversation.
But all those people were on to something. PAX isn’t a show with prominent spikes, but a zone of sustained fun. This year, that was the case more than ever, as PAX’s makers had finally cleared up the logistical hiccups of years past to make things like waiting in lines and attending panels much more bearable. Also, maybe it’s just my recession obsession talking here, but the escapism of PAX felt invigorating—nobody was bitching about jobs, money, or major changes in their lives. Game makers and players alike reveled in an almost otherworldly comfort zone. For just a few days, I didn’t have to spend energy on my reality, which felt great, especially when cast in the shadow of my last bus ride home. I’d left my PAX badge around my neck, so the alpha douche of the drunken Bumbershoot cotillion near me laughed: “You must’ve come from the dork convention!” (Again, PAX is a known quantity… though not always a plus.)
He spent the rest of the bus ride talking ignorant crap (reality TV, jokes about homeless people) with his pals TweedlePhi and TweedleDelta, while I fondly recalled the people I met via hour-long D&D games, 8-player battle games, thoughtful panels, and waiting in lines. Games were our hook, but they weren’t our only common interest, and it wasn’t uncommon to see players exchange contact info to keep the PAX fun going through the year. The way my hecklers were shouting on the bus, I imagine their eardrums were too blown to even bother talking to strangers at their fest.
It was the least nerdy-looking PAX ever, as well, if you can believe it. More attendees meant fewer fewer obese, stinky, costumed, and otherwise stereotypical folks standing out in the crowd. The ages, the genders, the sizes, and other factors made the PAX’09 crowd look, honestly, like a Seahawks crowd. Go team.
More PAX photos after the jump.
