Discworld con wrapup. *Sigh*
I have to remember that there was a lot I liked about the convention. I have to work on remembering that, because the complaints outnumber the compliments about 5 to 1, and I'm no longer willing to cut much slack for "oh, but it was a first convention" after the 221BConcom pulled off their first without a hitch during the weekend.
And this weekend had a LOT of hitches.
I liked getting to hear the British guests speak (including Terry, who was skyped in.) Given the chance - and I intend to get that chance in next year's British Discworld con - I will totally con-stalk "Duckman" who told a hilarious story about trying to bring rubber ducks en masse through TSA security.
I liked the masquerade, but it was surprisingly small. It, unlike many things, ran like a machine, because it was in the hands of someone who's been doing them for decades.
I liked shopping the Discworld Emporium so that I could hold things in my hands and judge, rather than take a chance on an internet photo. I liked that there was a massage therapist in the dealer's room. I liked talking to friends when I could. I liked the bag swag, that included a small canvas bag, a lanyard, and - every convention should do this! - a combination highlighter/pen.
I liked the costumes. While the halls weren't quite as chockablock with costumes as 221BCon had been, I'd say that a good half were in costume. Lots of witches and wizards, quite a few Tiffanys, scores of seamstresses, but now and again some people stood out from the crowd. There was the Lady Sybil in leather protective gear and stuffed dragons, the occasional Vetinari, an Auditor, and one of my favorites, Casanunda. He had a powdered wig and his stool, and would make a point of going to flirt with any women of a certain age who reacted to his costume.
My favorites:
They popped up on Sunday:
She would go on to win Best in Show in the masquerade about 5 hours after this shot:
(Mo ran into a less shiny Moist who delivered you a letter if you gave him one of the "I like your costume!" chits)
And she was the hit of the convention!
She apparently made her own chainmail, and today she was running around giving City Watch ribbons to anyone who could answer trivia questions.
But then there was what went wrong. EVERYTHING I've bitched about the panels and more was true. It turns out that panelists weren't even given the panel descriptions in the brochure; they were just given the twee titles and told where to show up. (Which is why I should have gone to make-your-own-words, because it wasn't make your own words, it was Terry's British editor discussing the words that he uses and makes up -- precisely the kind of panel that I'd WANTED all weekend to see!) The crowd was starving for meta discussions; whenever we were allowed to ask questions, we usually asked about the kind of meta that I wanted to hear. Someone even posted a desperate note up on the voodoo board asking if anyone else wanted to discuss themes and edits.
Panels were stuffed into far too tiny rooms while larger ones were lying empty, or the room next door could be made available if a wall was opened. One panel had to be run twice because simply not one more body could be wedged in... even though the grand ballroom was empty. The next overflow panel was moved into the empty grand ballroom, but for some reason not run from the stage, so they had people turn their chairs *away* from the big microphone speakers and strain to hear the panelists. Panels ran late - we weren't even let into the skype session until 10 minutes after it was supposed to have started.
And yes - it was mostly Arts and Crafts for Adults time. When it wasn't exercise or meditation time. Which is why we were all gagging to actually TALK about the books!
The "included with your registration" breakfast wasn't worth the price of being included, even before the sausage fiasco. (I have to add - although I couldn't do vegan unless I wanted to walk into Little Italy and eschew parmesan and garlic bread and hope the marinara wasn't on egg noodles, I could and did do two vegetarian meals a day. Even if it took The Great Sausage Shitfit of '13 to accomplish.)
There was an extraordinary amount of typos in most of the text flashed onto the screen for the sing-a-long and the Church of Om service. The Con chair couldn't keep up the Vetinari act and between him saying "um" and reverb from the mikes, the opening ceremonies were impossible to understand.
I'm not sorry I went. But the only reason I'm sorry that I left early is that I can't con-stalk Duckman for another day.
And this weekend had a LOT of hitches.
I liked getting to hear the British guests speak (including Terry, who was skyped in.) Given the chance - and I intend to get that chance in next year's British Discworld con - I will totally con-stalk "Duckman" who told a hilarious story about trying to bring rubber ducks en masse through TSA security.
I liked the masquerade, but it was surprisingly small. It, unlike many things, ran like a machine, because it was in the hands of someone who's been doing them for decades.
I liked shopping the Discworld Emporium so that I could hold things in my hands and judge, rather than take a chance on an internet photo. I liked that there was a massage therapist in the dealer's room. I liked talking to friends when I could. I liked the bag swag, that included a small canvas bag, a lanyard, and - every convention should do this! - a combination highlighter/pen.
I liked the costumes. While the halls weren't quite as chockablock with costumes as 221BCon had been, I'd say that a good half were in costume. Lots of witches and wizards, quite a few Tiffanys, scores of seamstresses, but now and again some people stood out from the crowd. There was the Lady Sybil in leather protective gear and stuffed dragons, the occasional Vetinari, an Auditor, and one of my favorites, Casanunda. He had a powdered wig and his stool, and would make a point of going to flirt with any women of a certain age who reacted to his costume.
My favorites:
They popped up on Sunday:
She would go on to win Best in Show in the masquerade about 5 hours after this shot:
(Mo ran into a less shiny Moist who delivered you a letter if you gave him one of the "I like your costume!" chits)
And she was the hit of the convention!
She apparently made her own chainmail, and today she was running around giving City Watch ribbons to anyone who could answer trivia questions.
But then there was what went wrong. EVERYTHING I've bitched about the panels and more was true. It turns out that panelists weren't even given the panel descriptions in the brochure; they were just given the twee titles and told where to show up. (Which is why I should have gone to make-your-own-words, because it wasn't make your own words, it was Terry's British editor discussing the words that he uses and makes up -- precisely the kind of panel that I'd WANTED all weekend to see!) The crowd was starving for meta discussions; whenever we were allowed to ask questions, we usually asked about the kind of meta that I wanted to hear. Someone even posted a desperate note up on the voodoo board asking if anyone else wanted to discuss themes and edits.
Panels were stuffed into far too tiny rooms while larger ones were lying empty, or the room next door could be made available if a wall was opened. One panel had to be run twice because simply not one more body could be wedged in... even though the grand ballroom was empty. The next overflow panel was moved into the empty grand ballroom, but for some reason not run from the stage, so they had people turn their chairs *away* from the big microphone speakers and strain to hear the panelists. Panels ran late - we weren't even let into the skype session until 10 minutes after it was supposed to have started.
And yes - it was mostly Arts and Crafts for Adults time. When it wasn't exercise or meditation time. Which is why we were all gagging to actually TALK about the books!
The "included with your registration" breakfast wasn't worth the price of being included, even before the sausage fiasco. (I have to add - although I couldn't do vegan unless I wanted to walk into Little Italy and eschew parmesan and garlic bread and hope the marinara wasn't on egg noodles, I could and did do two vegetarian meals a day. Even if it took The Great Sausage Shitfit of '13 to accomplish.)
There was an extraordinary amount of typos in most of the text flashed onto the screen for the sing-a-long and the Church of Om service. The Con chair couldn't keep up the Vetinari act and between him saying "um" and reverb from the mikes, the opening ceremonies were impossible to understand.
I'm not sorry I went. But the only reason I'm sorry that I left early is that I can't con-stalk Duckman for another day.