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Penny Arcade Expo '09: The Reckoning
[caption id="attachment_13528" align="alignleft" width="368" caption="Jerry Holkins, co-creator of the Penny Arcade Expo"]
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This post is by Sam Machkovech.
The back of Jerry Holkins' head is distinctive. Clean-shaven, pale, perched atop a sloping pair of shoulders and a plain, black shirt, it's easy to spot if you're looking for it.
This weekend, more than 60,000 gamers will descend upon the gaming fest he co-created, the Penny Arcade Expo, at the Washington State Convention Center in downtown Seattle. For most of the weekend, the back of Holkins' head will be the only part of him you can see when his face is glued to one of the zillions of screens at PAX'09.
If he can find time to play. I stumbled upon Holkins yesterday afternoon outside the WSCC as he took a break from the day's PAX setup. After saying hello, asking him to turn around, and making small talk, I remarked, "See you later." He jokingly replied, "No, you won't."
Holkins and his Penny Arcade cohort, Mike Krahulik, sought to keep up with last year's record-breaking crowd by expanding PAX's floor space and adding more panels, more games, more everything. Fans responded by buying every ticket a week before the doors opened. This is the first hobbyist con ever held in Seattle in which fans cannot buy a ticket at the door. Holkins, taking a brief respite from the action with a roadside crepe, looked like a man unsure of what he'd gotten himself into.
Inside the WSCC, volunteers put the final touches on the show. A cart full of Vizio HDTVs required two people to push it; another volunteer whizzed past, gliding on Wheelies shoes while holding a mini fridge. Another few carts went by, full of Magic The Gathering playing cards and A/V equipment for PAX's nighttime concerts. One of those was manned by one of the many Utilikilt-wearers in sight.
When a volunteer hit up a booth to sign in, he wasn't asked to present his full name or ID, but "What's your handle?" When the volunteer responded with a word that sounded like "Al-khan," he didn't have to spell it to get his credentials. Next to these guys stood MC Frontalot, a "nerdcore" rapper who has performed at many PAX iterations. Frontalot wore nine VIP badges around his neck. Geek bling!
I got close enough to sneak a peek at the main exhibition hall, which has tripledin size since last year. Seeing that scene of TVs, computers, game systems, and elaborate sets made me want to see the electricity bill for three days of PAX. I'll live there all day today and blather about the best of those toys, along with panel impressions, crowd conversations, photos of crazies in costumes, and perhaps reports of rubbing poor Holkins' bald head when he's not looking. PubliCola gamers, now's the time to send requests for things you'd like to see.
[/caption]This post is by Sam Machkovech.
The back of Jerry Holkins' head is distinctive. Clean-shaven, pale, perched atop a sloping pair of shoulders and a plain, black shirt, it's easy to spot if you're looking for it.
This weekend, more than 60,000 gamers will descend upon the gaming fest he co-created, the Penny Arcade Expo, at the Washington State Convention Center in downtown Seattle. For most of the weekend, the back of Holkins' head will be the only part of him you can see when his face is glued to one of the zillions of screens at PAX'09.
If he can find time to play. I stumbled upon Holkins yesterday afternoon outside the WSCC as he took a break from the day's PAX setup. After saying hello, asking him to turn around, and making small talk, I remarked, "See you later." He jokingly replied, "No, you won't."
Holkins and his Penny Arcade cohort, Mike Krahulik, sought to keep up with last year's record-breaking crowd by expanding PAX's floor space and adding more panels, more games, more everything. Fans responded by buying every ticket a week before the doors opened. This is the first hobbyist con ever held in Seattle in which fans cannot buy a ticket at the door. Holkins, taking a brief respite from the action with a roadside crepe, looked like a man unsure of what he'd gotten himself into.
Inside the WSCC, volunteers put the final touches on the show. A cart full of Vizio HDTVs required two people to push it; another volunteer whizzed past, gliding on Wheelies shoes while holding a mini fridge. Another few carts went by, full of Magic The Gathering playing cards and A/V equipment for PAX's nighttime concerts. One of those was manned by one of the many Utilikilt-wearers in sight.
When a volunteer hit up a booth to sign in, he wasn't asked to present his full name or ID, but "What's your handle?" When the volunteer responded with a word that sounded like "Al-khan," he didn't have to spell it to get his credentials. Next to these guys stood MC Frontalot, a "nerdcore" rapper who has performed at many PAX iterations. Frontalot wore nine VIP badges around his neck. Geek bling!
I got close enough to sneak a peek at the main exhibition hall, which has tripledin size since last year. Seeing that scene of TVs, computers, game systems, and elaborate sets made me want to see the electricity bill for three days of PAX. I'll live there all day today and blather about the best of those toys, along with panel impressions, crowd conversations, photos of crazies in costumes, and perhaps reports of rubbing poor Holkins' bald head when he's not looking. PubliCola gamers, now's the time to send requests for things you'd like to see.
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