The Convention Experience

You walk into a convention center, something you've never done before. Looking around, there's dozens of people all milling toward the center, and you follow in the vague hope that they know what they're doing. Since they're not staring around for some sort of direction, you instantly feel like a child lost at the mall.

Continuing down the hall you discover the Queue Room, a place where people are herded into makeshift aisles comprised largely of police tape. Those around you are playing games, reading novels, talking to friends or making new ones. You sit and wait.

For those of you who have never been to the Penny Arcade Expo before, this is how an attendee feels the first time around. For those lucky enough to be exhibitors, the mighty holders of pink badges may stroll like gods through the pearly gates whenever they please, completely oblivious to the determined attending in multi-hour queues.

Once the Queue is passed, or as I mentioned, you're working the event, that first step onto the show floor is breath taking. I don't know how normal people can just stroll through there without a momentary gasp, heading directly for the 3 hour wait of their choosing, but I always find myself having to pause and take everything in. The large booths that took months of planning and design, the careful floor plan so that lines can snake around without tying things up. All the time and energy that goes into making these few days possible is astounding. The eager representatives of every company who are in for the long weekend haul to make this experience worth remembering for every attendee. Because remember: These are not customers, but attendees, and there's a difference to be noted there. They may become customers later, but right now we're just all people with a general love of geek and gaming culture in common.

I've had the blessing to attend PAX as well as work the event, and the experiences have been phenomenal every time. I have to say I prefer working though, and it's not from a monetary standpoint. When you're demoing a game, especially one that you feel strongly about, sharing it with other people seems like something insane to be paid for. But nonetheless, that's the job: Explaining your passion to someone else and sharing it together. It's probably the coolest gig in the world.

On lunch breaks I mill around to other booths and greet old friends, and try diligently to remember the names of all the new ones I find at each event. It's like a family reunion twice a year, and you have to update the constantly growing family tree with 6 months' worth of additions. I will see them all again after the show ends, at the obligatory after parties. But until then we are the faces of our booths, the living representation of our brand. During the day I am Assassin's Creed or Brink, but once the show ends, I'm Kristen Maloney professionally, or Epidemic socially.

The point I'm trying to make here is that conventions aren't just about playing games, or letting your geek flag fly - though those are important parts of it. It's about a culture, a family structure, a place of peace and acceptance for two weekends a year. I attend PAX twice a year and almost never actually play anything anymore, but going there, surrounded by the passion, by the people, that's what makes it worthwhile. I recommend PAX for gamers of all sorts, especially the socially anxious; discovering so many people like yourself in one place does wonders to ease that tension. There are people who met me demoing a year ago that remembered and came to visit again this year - that's how this family works. We may not talk all the time, we may not see each other often, but a year from now when we reunite it will be as if nothing changed.

I don't know about you, but I sort of dig seeing familiar faces when I'm 3000 miles away from home. And the whole perk of sharing my passion while demoing? Not too bad either. So for those who have never done this before, I suggest you hope on those PAX Prime passes ASAP, because trust me - it's worth it.