Convention Vignettes #3 · 12:49am Sep 10th, 2018
NOTE: In the course of meeting so many people over a weekend, some names inevitably slip one's mind, no matter how hard one tries to remember. In such cases, names are replaced by question marks. If any owners of those names are reading this, by all means send me a reminder.
For a similar reason, these are presented out of chronological order.
* * *
Day one. Pascoite is giving out free samples.
I'm not normally much of a souvenir collector, but this is just plain cool.
I ask him, "By any chance do you watch Steven Universe?"
He says he does.
"There really needs to be a Pascoite in that show," I say.
He agrees.
"On that note, you know the rare crystal 'painite'?"
Of course he does.
"That show needs a Painite too, and she should be really depressed, because nobody understands Painite's pain."
* * *
Evening in the Hall of Chaos. I'm watching the adult humour panel. The panelists bring up a story in which, and I quote, "Mac's dick is made of pandas."
They go over the humour and storytelling possibilities of this idea, and finally one of them poses the question, "How can the problem of Mac's dick being made of pandas be solved?"
No longer able to bite my tongue, I blurt out, "With a chainsaw!"
Applejinx, sitting a couple of seats over from me, says, "That's enough out of you."
* * *
Late morning. Myself and a number of other authors are sitting around a table in the local Chipotle. Super Trampoline says we should take turns and describe the stories we always wanted to write, but for some reason never could.
My turn comes up. Trampoline says, "Although, you did get around to writing Krastos the Glue Maker, didn't you?"
"Yeah," I say. "And it was well-liked by the dozen people who read it."
Vivid Syntax, who is sitting across the table, says, "Let me guess. You poured your heart and soul into it."
"Yes!" I say. "I should've known better!"
* * *
Shortly after, the lot of us are walking back to the Centre, casually chatting as we go. I strike up a conversation with someone I haven't met before, whose pen name happens to contain the word "Horse."
"Hey." I indicate myself and Bad Horse, who happens to be among us. "That makes three Horses here. One more, and we can get an apocalypse going."
"I was about to say you shouldn't do that," Bad Horse says, "but then I remembered who I was talking to."
* * *
I'm in the Hall of Chaos again. GaryOak, Shakespearicles, and [?????] are doing a panel about naughty stuff. Unfortunately, it overlaps with the big voice actor panel, and I have to be here to support my homeboy.
Then question period comes, and I have no questions. On an impulse, I bolt up from my seat and tear through the halls, down the stairs, around the bend, and into the voice actors' panel room, slowing just enough so as not to make too much noise. I arrive just as the premiere for the all-star production of History Repeats begins to play on the projector.
Everyone involved in the production is clearly giving it their all. But what stands out to me most is the credits sequence at the end: pop-metal blasts over moving images of cute cartoon ponies and the voice actors' Internet handles, along with illustrations in widely different styles. By rights, it should be a parody of itself.
And yet, somehow, it works.
In the midst of the ensuing applause, all I can think is that if there were no Scribbler, we would have to invent her.
* * *
Every year, we hold the big Authors' Dinner at a place called Tir Na Nog. This year I am sitting with Cygnus, Admiral Biscuit, and [?????]. All at once, my new music buddy Reverbrony approaches from a neighboring table.
"Hey," he says, "I just found out you're the one who wrote Biblical Monsters." It turns out he's a fan--surprising, as he's not usually big on horror stories.
But then something occurs to me. "Hey," I say, "Maybe you can confirm something for me. If I understand the sequence of events right: I wrote that story; Scribbler made the audiobook; she added a few scenes in the format of an audio drama; she discovered she liked writing those; she wrote The Heroic Tale; she hired you to do the music; you fell in love; now you're engaged."
He looks thoughtful for a moment, then says that's more or less what happened.
My mind is now so absolutely blown that all I can think to do is quote Twilight here:
* * *
Early Sunday morning... I think. Cygnus and myself have managed to run into each other again. I can't really remember what we talk about, which is probably good, because that means it was agreeable. Then from out of nowhere appear three members of his crew: GutiuSerenade, Neighrator Pony, and [?????].
Guti and I don't know much about each other, but once the conversation thaws a bit, he strikes me as a pretty cool guy. But Neighrator and I know one other's work, because he played the role of the pony in Illya Leonov's production of The Savage Way.
We soon hit it off. I seem to recall him expressing some interest in the profession of lightkeeping. I also recall advising him to avoid it unless he doesn't mind being treated like dirt by government bean-counters.
But he soon says something interesting on the subject of Mr. Leonov. He has been trying to convince the latter to come to BronyCon, but it has been difficult, for Illya is the standoffish type.
More recently, I've heard that Illya does indeed plan to make it next year.
Oh, you mean Big Mac's Dick Is Made of Pandas.
Yeah, that one was weird.
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It bearly counts as a story.
I'm really enjoying these vignettes. I think it captures the feeling of the convention better than typical recaps do.
And I'm even more excited for next year, now. I don't care what sort of hoops I have to jump through, there's no way I'm missing that.
Don't mind me, just moving Krastos back to the top of my Read Later shelf...
Aye. I got a weather observer certification when I was in the Marine Corps, and after reading Biblical Monsters I briefly considered a career in lightkeeping.
When Horse Voice, Pascoite, and Admiral Biscuit enter the writing contest:
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When are they not?
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The more ponies I meet, the more I think I should be bringing a rolled-up newspaper to con…