(This was supposed to be have been posted back in August, but since lately I've started to wonder if perhaps I've opened Imohotep's Tomb the way my luck has been going I haven't had a chance to finish it. So here you go.)
Gen Con is a special time in nerd's year. A gathering of peers to enjoy four days of letting your inner dork out to par-tay. It got off to a rousing start when my alarm clock didn't go off, giving me about ten minutes to shower and finish packing. Needless to say I was running late. Thankfully so was the Swine, who was picking me up. We made it down to Greenville about twenty minutes late to pick up our third and we were off.
To continue the theme of awesome beginnings within minutes of reaching our hotel parking garage I walked into a trailer hitch shin first. My language wasn't very lady like at that point as I hopped around with a rapidly swelling leg. After a five minute wait in the will call line, like every other year (suck it Dareth) we were off into the vendor hall. I made a beeline for my overlord and master's booth, Paizo Publishing, to pick up an overpriced nerd book.
I wasn't alone. The line was epic, stretching around the booth twice over as nerds jockeyed for position. It was hot and a few of the nerds were in dire need of a shower, so it wasn't a pleasant wait, especially on a screwed up leg. Paizo could very easily set up seminars on customer service to other companies. Their staff to a man are unbelievably friendly even in the crushing face of a wave of geek. After getting my crap I wandered for a few before slinking back to the hotel room to crash for the night.
The next morning we got up bright and early. The Swine and I had an early morning seminar on being a good DM at the Marriot. The new one we learned, as there are actually two within a mile of each other. On the way there we were behind a lovely young woman that had jeans on so tight the fact she didn't walk like one of the Landstriders from the Dark Crystal is a miracle. On the way a man actually crossed the street to get ahead of her, not even attempting to hide the fact he was looking at her. As she passed he stopped to look at her ass and let out a long, drawn out, "Dammmmmmn." I should have hi fived him, but it was early in the morning and I wasn't thinking.
The seminar was one of the highlights of the con. The Swine and I met a lovely couple from Massachusetts whose full names we sadly didn't get. We also managed to almost make a poor pimple faced teenager cry when he tried to get the two of us under control in a simulation of a bad game. One of the best times I've ever had at Gen Con.
The follow up to it was a bit of a let down though. At least two hours of it was listening to a neckbeard ask trivial questions because his heart valves couldn't handle the stress of cracking open a PDF and reading. One good thing to come of it though was finally getting to vent to someone that could do something about my issues with Pathfinder Society. The New York City Venture Captain was polite and friendly, which has been kind of a rarity for me when dealing with PFS folk.
The night ended with a trip to the sacred grounds of St. Elmo's Steakhouse, where sadly the cuisine didn't quite meet the standards of my two companions and their refined palates. Perhaps had the food been slathered in buffalo sauce and served half cooked it would have been good enough for the twin Anton Ego's I was with. Perhaps.
Day three was a blur of activity, shopping, seminars and a Jason Lindsey sighting all topped off with the traditional Saturday night PFS game. The cattle call was far better organized this year then in years past and we were tabled quickly. Our DM was a nice enough fellow but with a voice that would make Ben Stein seem like Mike Patton. When running on raspberries and Monster you kind of hope your DM isn't the avatar of Lunesta but that wasn't the case. Also at our table were two old guys that were about as useful as a non psychic Kuato, some dork who thought his familiar was a second character and a loony tune 12 year old that when finding out he couldn't torture NPCs left, presumably to go set an ant hill on fire.
The adventure was a disaster. It was set up for role playing; something we rarely got a chance to do between White Noise DM and cranky old guys. All the pertinent skills needed were skills we lacked. I didn't even have the refuge of the Swine and I's usual table chatter as he decided to channel his inner Achilles and skulk the whole game. Things just got worse. We ran into a succubus that charmed every single memeber of the party at one point or another and the DM rather then say, making us drop our weapons or lose an action instead had the majority of those that failed wander away and unable to do anything for the rest of the adventure. Twelve dollars well spent.
My character eventually shrugged of the charm and was able to stop humping a pillow (yep, my character was charmed into masturbating like a spider monkey in an upstairs bedroom. Money well spent) long enough to jump buck naked out of a two storey window and huck bombs at the bitch. Alone I might add, since the majority of the table felt it was better to attack a secondary character then the kingpin. All and all it managed to both suck and blow.
And to top it off the Swine and I's archenemies were there: Fat Slash (dubbed so because he is a morbid globster that wears a hat like Slash from Guns and Roses) and his wife Starship Fupa (dubbed so because her giant, awe-inspiring in the Biblical sense of awe fupa. If you don't know what a fupa is Google is your friend. At least until you see what it is.) We've ran into them several times over the past few years since we've played a game with them and the dislike is quite mutual. Take the Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons and strip him of whatever charm he might possess and pair him off with an equally despicable, polyph-like female and you'll have a good idea of what the two are like. And as fate would have it they were close enough to us that we were showered in the gibbets of meat that exploded from their table after a steer was lowered down within reach of the two.
The Sunday game was a vast improvement, even if the traditional mutant sat next to me. I have a freak magnet or something on me. Whenever some cat piss smelling transient bellies up to a PFS table he always, always sits next to me as he slurps potted meat and reeks. While this guy apparently wandered under running water once in a while his character sheet consisted of a few scrabbled on note cards and Certs wrapper. He had no real clue as to what he was doing and got pissy whenever someone tried to help. He played the least fighting fighter in the history of RPGs, content to do absolutely nothing. As a result my paladin had to do.....questionable things in order for us to win the day, including supplying a recovered addict with drugs. Victimless crimes I says. I should have been stripped of my paladin-ness, but the DM was, on top of being really really good, merciful in the face of the goon playing with us.
As we finished and were preparing for our return to the van and the open road we ran into Fat Slash and the Fupa. They actually harrumphed us like they were Lionel Barrymore or something. It was sweet and the perfect topper for a great Gen Con. Only finding out that they were caught at the border and rendered down into candle tallow would put me in a better mood.
The normally four hour drive home rounded into a seven hour one due to the Swine's sudden development of diarrhea. One could put forth the hypothesis that it was due to him eating half the menu at the Waffle House we stopped at, as well as ordering the fry cook to scrape the leavins on the flat top off onto his glistening grease omelet, but according to him you'd be wrong. As the sun set I found myself at home at last, Xenophon making it to Trabzon, or Swan making it back to Coney Island if your tastes run to the more modern. All in all, perhaps the best Gen Con I've attended and I eagerly await next year's.
No comments:
Post a Comment