You can’t walk anymore. You can’t talk anymore. You are mute in a world of anonymous noise, dice, sound effects and all the other periphery that comes along with coming to PAX. You’re going to be tired, you’re going to have aches and pains that you didn’t even know you could have, and in my case, you can wake up with a leg cramp that prompts you to chew at your blanket, simply trying not to scream as the next ten minutes passes without relief.
That was Saturday.
This is Sunday, and here I am. Physical agony for us gamers is an uncommon occurrence, and is more often a punishment for being sedentary (as we are oft to do). Yet, I will gladly run around and experience all of that over again to see the passion that all of us bring. The League of Legends booth looms over the entire hall, with collegiate tournaments, bracelets, PAX skins (no Arcade Sona leftovers ;_; ) while an S2 employee pleads with me to sign back onto my Heroes of Newerth account, which is probably more than unlikely. All of this excess, all the hope, and all of agony resides within these halls, and becomes residual as we remember our badges, our pins and everything else with fond memories. I won an iRacing account even though I ran into someone slow and blew my engine on the last lap. I lost to a Wizards of the coast employee playing Magic: The Gathering with a deck I never thought would be made, and it continues onwards and outwards with each step.
There are so many of you, from developers, to Gabe and Tycho, here, right now at PAX even as the event is only hours away from dying. Your interests are so varied, as we can see all the games being played in the shadows of the Bethesda and Riot megabooths, because they all make their own shadows, and you make your own shadows.
May PAX forever be the shining beacon then, fueled by you beautiful people. Shine on.