Talking Air

I’ve just embarked on a five-day trip across international borders, the sole purpose of which is to be a huge nerd. After three hours or so, over two thousand kilometres above Iceland, I’m overcome with a sudden sense of excitement. I’m not alone! Planes are in the air all over the world, bringing people together for the Penny Arcade Expo, an annual convention in Seattle, Washington.

As I watch the in-flight display inch ever closer to my destination, I’m forced to wonder why I’m so excited to be among their number; why I’m here at all. My first answer is a simple one – I’m a gamer. It’s an answer that immediately feels a little weak. Why, then, was I not present at E3, arguably still the biggest trade show for the industry and a guaranteed venue for fresh announcements and exclusive hands-on time with the biggest upcoming titles? Why was I not at GamesCom recently, a convention in Leipzig, Germany that is far easier to reach from my native England? For each, I was perfectly content to sit at home and watch the feeds roll by, soaking up the news without having to be physically present. What makes PAX worth the expense and exhaustion of the twenty-four hour round trip?

Looking at my schedule, I realise the answer, perhaps perfectly worded for an advertising sting – it’s because it’s not about gaming. It’s about gamers. The first day of my schedule is packed with community-organised events, before the convention even officially opens. My fondest memories of PAX 2008 aren’t of queueing to play Left 4 Dead, or getting a preview of the then-new Xbox dashboard. They’re of the Rock Band party with twenty people packed into a hotel room, that lasted until two in the morning. They’re of watching educated experts in the field opine on the hobby I love, and of discussing it with them afterward. They’re of constantly meeting people from all different backgrounds from all over the globe, from students to people in military service, every single one of whom shares my passions and many of whom I would consider friends after only knowing them a single day. And the more I think about it, the more that I realise that’s how I codify my experiences with gaming as a whole.

Everywhere there’s a venue for it on the web, the same conversation has to be had. Which is better; Call of Duty, Halo, Killzone, or anything in between? Objectively, of course, it’s a conversation that simply can’t have a satisfactory resolution, and I’m not here to debate the bullet points in favour of or against any of them in particular. My personal penchant for Halo doesn’t really stem from the weapon balance, or the visual design, or the map layout, or anything but the most simple and critical of ingredients. It’s due to the same aspect of every game that causes so much tension between factions, and it’s largely out of the control of the developers. It’s the people you play with, and the relationships you build.

I play Halo as opposed to having my choice of any other shooters out there because I have a group of people whose company I enjoy, and who I can support and be supported by in the game. Looking back through my game history with a group of these people, I don’t see a single match that we lost. As a result, when I relate the stories that affected me in that game, and others, I don’t describe the same plot twist that everyone else experienced, and either thought was predictable or revolutionary. It’s the occasion where an objective game had been a stalemate for fifteen minutes, and in the last twenty seconds all five people in the team planned, coordinated and executed the winning capture flawlessly; that chain of exhilarating moments skidding around laser fire with the right combination of teamwork, skill and luck that every match has the potential for. It’s moments like these that forge friendships and give meaning to any experience, and largely it doesn’t matter about the game itself – just that it’s shared.

So I’m heading half-way across this little planet of ours, to meet and share experiences with new people, people that I have never met but with whom I feel I have a strong bond nonetheless. That’s how this weekend will be defined, I think – rather than the inevitable wordlists that Scribblenauts didn’t bat an eyelid at, or the deconstruction of Diablo III’s minutiae, the reason I’m here is to witness the electricity in the room as a thousand people hold their breath as someone slides a wooden block from a tower, or to grin incessantly as I tap plastic frets with new friends.

For that, I’d pay twice as much and travel for twice as long. And, if PAX East in Boston early next year is anywhere near the calibre of PAX Prime, I will be.