It’s not you Comic-Con, it’s me.

I love Comic-Con. I really do. I’ve attended somewhere close to a dozen shows. I’ve been to both the Comic-Con in San Diego and the one in New York. And, while the majority of these shows have been for work-related purposes, I always take whatever available free time I can to enjoy the show floor, panels, and events. 

But, before all that, I came under my own steam to Comic-Con because I loved comic books. I loved

the heroes, I sought out the companies that published them (I even made a pilgrimage to visit DC publishing in NYC as a youth), I met with the artists, and I listened intently to the writers about their craft. I discovered that the show floor was a magical wonderland of opportunity to find missing issues, new series at bargains, and items to help celebrate my fandom out loud. I was fully enjoying following my obsession, along with thousands of others.

Yet it wasn’t until years later that I discovered something was missing. Through a work product promotion, I attended my first Gen Con, a gaming convention, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Almost upon arrival, the thought popped into my head and out of my mouth at the same time: “These are my people.” To be honest, I couldn’t explain at the time why a gaming convention would hold such an affinity over my beloved Comic-Con.  But, there it was.

 

I came to realize that Comic-Con, although jam-packed with all creeds of fan-boys (and girls) from all over the world, is a solipsistic experience. There is a sea of people emphatically facing in one direction and not at each other. I may find other die-hard enthusiasts in solidarity attending the same eclectic panel, or encounter another attendee in a favorite but obscure costume - but will we really converse and strike up a friendship? Will either of us do more than snap a picture and compliment the wearer? Not likely.

A friend of mine (let’s call him Ben) will often reject offers of gatherings when the main purpose is watching a movie or television show together. Watching stuff is something he can do on his own.  But gaming? That needs other people. At first I thought he was a bit of a loon (and he is); however, he makes a good point.

At a gaming convention, I can still find people wearing outrageous and clever costumes. I can still find groups of people who share a passion for interests from mainstream to eclectic. But only there am I bound to really meet and spend time with absolute strangers. More than that, we will be bonding and creating memories over card games, board games, role-playing games, video games, and even (sigh) Live Action Role Playing games. At a gaming con, you are creating shared experiences with other attendees and, if you aren’t careful, you might even make new friends. It’s happened.

This is why I still enjoy Comic-Con, fully.  Yet we can only really be friends going forward.  My heart belongs to gaming conventions, and frankly it probably always has.

Why you might care about Oculus Rift: Too

It’s been a while since I’ve posted. Part of that is because I’ve had the chance to do a lot of travel recently. The other part is likely diligent laziness.

One of the travel destinations that caused this disruption was E3. And here I am, months later, writing this while attending Comic-Con. What prompted me to write now was the realization of how the digital culture has radically changed the importance of events like these (E3 & Comic-Con), while at the same time reducing the need to be there in person. Once upon a time, being able to get first hands-on experience with a game or attending a panel of a favorite author or writer was an enviable experience. It could be weeks or months before others might be able to share your knowledge and grasp the new innovations.

Now that moment of discovery is practically instantaneous. So, rather than stand in line for most of the day to hear the likes of George R.R.Martin speak, I can wait for the YouTube post later that evening. It takes a bit of the magic away from actually being there.

 

However, there are those singular events that stand our modern paradigm on its head. One such moment was when I was invited at E3 to check out Eve: Valkyrie (thank you, Adam Kahn). For those of you not familiar with the Eve Online franchise, it is an MMO that takes place entirely in space, and you participate by means of the spacecraft that you own. Eve: Valkyrie takes place in the same universe, but puts you in the pilot seat, literally. It may have been a vertical slice of the game or maybe it was just a tech-demo of what they were working on at the time. Regardless, it was a unique perspective that you can’t replicate on YouTube, because it was displayed through the Oculus Rift. 

The basic controls were explained to me and I was given a game controller. When I put on the visor, I noticed that the field-of-view took up all of my peripheral vision, which gave me the sensation of being in another world almost immediately. Over-the-ear headphones were also placed on my head.

Everything seemed to be out of focus for a moment, like borrowing someone else’s glasses, but with a simple adjustment of the oculus over my nose everything snapped clearly in place and in perfect focus. I was in a one-man space fighter in a launch bay. I craned my head to look behind me and I could see the entire surrounding hangar bay, as well as other fighters alongside me. I looked down at my hands that I mentally knew were holding a game controller, yet my hands were on the cockpit controls.  

Imagine yourself actually in an X-Wing fighter, or in a Viper onboard the Battlestar Galactica.  That was the dream that had become virtual reality around me.  

And then we launched.

Suddenly, I left the comfortable confines of the hangar, hurtled down the ship’s launch tube, and was ejected into the vast openness of space. It was a beautiful shock to the system, with nothingness of the cosmos all about me. I started to get my bearings, being able to key in on massive asteroids lazily tumbling through space and a nearby planetoid slowly spinning beneath. That’s when the attack began.

 

Fortunately, my gaming flight instincts kicked in and allowed me to focus on the task at hand: defend & destroy.

This all took place in the space of perhaps four minutes, but felt like one.

The Oculus Rift may still seem like pie-in-the-sky for most people - but if they were able slip on the visor and encounter the likes of Eve: Valkyrie, like I did, there might well be a lot more true believers out there. It’s an experience that could change your mind.

You had to be there.