I'm not a hundred percent sure why I'm writing this down, but I think I'm starting to see things recur often enough that I think they warrant a throughout analysis, and who knows, maybe somewhere down the line it even helps.
I started noticing the pattern at around 2005, and I think I can claim giving a name for it - which I'm not too proud of, but the concept spread interestingly fast compared to how silly it is really. Nowadays almost everyone I know has admitted to it at least once, and I know several people who are struck by it often enough to make me feel I should at least talk about it.
So yeah.
Post-party depression (PPD)
Description: An emotionally distraught mental state that occurs to demosceners after a demoparty either started nearing to its end or has ended.
Causes: There are two factors that come to play: 1) The physical exertion experienced during the demoparty (alcohol abuse, sleep deprivation, malnutrition) and 2) the relatively sudden disruption of the euphoric mood.
Symptoms: PPD being a subset of "normal" depression, much of the symptoms are very similar (isolation, emptiness, lack of interaction), but often enough one can spot signs that specify this very particular brand: The subject may engage into overly intensive Internet-use to watch videos, pictures, forum posts, reviews, etc. about the party they just left, or may insist on trying to contact certain people and telling about their experience, and become disappointed if others aren't as excited as they were.
Analysis: The essence of a demoparty, for many sceners, is the escapism from the gray and often painful workdays of adulthood into a childlike dreamworld where our earliest computing memories are still valid and we can surround ourselves not only with likeminded people but people from all around the world; something that has been ingrained into our psyche in the early 90s. Most people can't make it to more than 4-5 parties a year, some even less - for them, this much wanted detour only occurs every 3-4 months. Compared to that proportion, the 48h length of an average demoparty is like a shot of adrenaline.
Demoparties have a very particular intensity-curve: After more than 48 hours of partying, you have a really spectacular, but often painfully short climax with the democompo, and then starting with Sunday morning demosceners often have to face the combination of a hangover and often a long and joyless travel home, sometimes alone. One minute you're slamming down your 9th beer of the night, and only a few hours later you're hungry and unslept, stuck in a fuselage of a budget flight, sometimes for more than just a few hours. The physiological repercussions of a night out are obvious; several in a row can be exponentially devastating.
Once this situation arises, another problem is also obvious: there's no turning back the clock, and sceners have to return to facing their personal, financial, social or occupational problems, which might not have intensified over the course of the weekend, but compared to the careless entertainment of a demoparty, they come down as some sort of hope-crushing matter they tried to exile from their minds for the time being. It's great that you can use an event like that to keep your mind off things like job security or family matters and such, but you can only hold off the juggernaut of time for so long.
Another possible factor is of course the relentless competition-centric nature of the scene: if you've worked on your release for months and laid all your best work and heart and soul in it and lose to something that was really funny then and there, you're not going to take it well, no matter who you are. This is of course part of the deal, we all are aware of how a vote works, but it does contribute to a certain hollow feeling once a party has ended, when the big climatic prizegiving didn't turn out the way everyone has hoped.
Perhaps the most excruciating parts of a party ending however are the friendships that have to be placed back in the Internet-cryostasis for the time being again. Demosceners, as computer-centric but also artistic people, have been pushed to the fringe and treated as carnival freaks time and time again by their peer groups, and as such, close friendships are of incredibly high value in the scene. However, as statistic will tell you, there's a chance some of those friendships will happen across country borders, and at some point we all have to say goodbye to the people who we really care about but who also happen to live in a different country.
Treatment: I'll try not to offer specifics here as to avoid making a statement that sounds like a silver bullet, and I certainly don't want to come across as some quack who has the cure for depression. But I think there are a few pointers that are perhaps best said out loud so that maybe we can avoid some mental breakdowns down the line.
- If you felt good about a party, express it so that organizers and partygoers have a positive vibe about their memories.
- Emphasize on how you're looking forward for the next time, even if it's months away. Make plans, let others know.
- Keep in contact with your friends as much as you can. Just a text message or email right after the party can sustain some of the good vibe.
- If you remember particularly good bits (like a good demo or a good initiative), don't be afraid to praise it out loud. You'll make the people responsible feel their work was worth it.
- As rheumatic as it sounds, watch the physical health of yourself and others: sometimes you don't NEED that third shot of whatever they're offering. You'll be happier the next day.
- Summed up: JUST DO THINGS.
Now all this might have come across as somewhat preachy, obviously, and I do not presume to know every cause and reason behind every single feeling people might have. But I know I suffer from this often, I know enough others who do too, and the term has been around long enough to have someone at least attempt to define it. So maybe talking about it helps.
Or maybe I'm just too old for this shit.