A case study in insanity: NDK Denver

There are different ways to speak of insanity.  One is reference various psychic states, patterns of cognition, and material patterns of the brain.  The other is to simply point to the decisions people make and examine their implications.

This year, I was on a mission.  Mazo called me up and asked me if I was going to NDK.  Unsure if I actually wanted to, my interest in attending their DDR tournament served as enticement.  More on that later.

The fact that the DTC Mariot is only 4 blocks from my house made my decision easier.  So after bumming a ride from Mazo’s friend Devon, I found myself in the middle of a level of madness I had very nearly forgotten about.  There was some inkling in my mind about it.  I had been to conventions before, although that was at a different time in my life when my grasp on reality was somewhat weaker.  Even with that history, some foggy memory poked through.  Remembering it, I decided that there was only one contextually appropriate thing for me to do under the circumstances.  Dress really, really stupidly.

American flag bandanna, Cat ears, Suit coat, Thuggish shakespeare shirt. Not pictured: one boxing glove, one motorcycle glove

I had expected to be called out about this ridiculous attire, but I was mistaken.  No anime character looks like this.  99% of the people who dress up for anime conventions are engaging in the process of cosplaying.  They need an excuse to dress funny.  A convention offers this to them in a truly beautiful way.  It’s all rather ridiculous.  Fans spend 362 days of the year working, fulfilling some petty occupational role flipping burgers at McDonalds or answering phone calls for Comcast, and when they get to the convention what do they do?  They sublimate their identity to some two-dimensional fantasy world.  Disappearing into makeup and costume, they trade one illusion for another.  Why it comforts them I cannot know.

Given that, I thought of an alternative.  Instead of pretending to be a fictional character, I would simply go as a more awesome version of me.  Except I made the mistake of thinking people were actually conscious of what was going on here.  So my move lacked impact.  It’s a shame.  I had looked forward to telling people that I was Jimothy from Robot BloodRayne, or Captain Erin from Sakurai Tensen Chronicles.  Or Kilroy from Infinity Injun no Chousenjou.  Like it would have made any difference.

Mazo and Devon both sported Kemono suits.  Jesting that they were bucking the trend by bringing a piece of actual Japanese culture to an anime convention, they proceeded to wander about, toting a trash bag full of Pabst Blue Ribbon and engaging in various flavors of drunken antic.  Devon is a furry, but Mazo isn’t.  Whether he was boldly co-opting something or meekly attempting to ride it to town I cannot be sure.  It doesn’t particularly concern me at this point, anymore.

Amongst this general atmosphere of apathy and self-abdication cunningly disguised as the largest costume party this side of Halloween, I made the decision that I would enter the DDR tournament.  Despite expectations that it would be bad, I was still surprised.

Every DDR tournament has pad errors.  This is an inevitability.  Some of them are addressed, others are ignored.  This is probably the first time in history that they have been made a crime to speak about.  Early into the tournament, one of the best players in Colorado stepped off the pad with all perfects or better, and 6 misses.  If you don’t know DDR, know this: such an occurence is effectively impossible.  Him, I, and several other players brought the issue to the attention of the tournament organizers; who promptly stated that anyone raising the issue of pad errors would be ejected from the DDR room.  Undaunted, I continued to point out the mechanical insufficiency of the pads.

At about this time I was very sternly told that I needed to shut up.  Upon stating that the pads were broken, I was helpfully informed by one of the organizers that my face was broken.  Not realizing who he was, I began to respond while turning around to face him.  Seeing that he was one of the people in charge, I dropped it.  Following that, I was told that any complaints could result in a permanent ban from the DDR room.  So I issued a statement.

“I’ve told you once.  When I win this tournament, I’m going to tell you again.”

“What if you don’t win?” asked one spectator.

“Not going to happen.”

If it makes any difference to you, dear reader, know this.  I made this commitment in July, two months before the convention.  Unlike the orchestrators of the event, I hold myself accountable to things.

My efforts were made easier by the withdrawal of one of the best players in the state.  He had bested the Colorado tournament favorite before, but the situation at NDK was too much for him.  For him, there was simply no overcoming the incompetence on display at the event.  So it came down to me against another one of the best players in the state, and after countless pad errors and a completely arbitrary second tiebreaker (I technically won the first), I was declared the winner.

So this is how it played out.  People clapped.  My name was spoken aloud to a room full of curious onlookers, ignorant of the sport but for some reason transfixed by it, and I was given my prize: A $100 dollar gift certificate for anime.  I don’t even watch anime.  To be fair, there are a few works which have held my attention.  Now and Then, Here and There, for example.  The works of Miyazaki as well.  But when it comes to these ridiculous aspirations to anime culture, I am nowhere to be found.

So the prize for the NDK anime convention DDR tournament did not go to an anime fan.  It’s just as well.  You see, I realized something at this convention.  I watched grownups dressed as video game characters pose for cameras so that they may be remembered by strangers as objects that represented fiction.  I saw two friends of mine do the same things they always do while masquerading effortlessly through the insanity of their circumstance.  Lastly, I saw a pair of arrogant pricks in uniform posturing as authority figures.  That’s when I put it all together.  Culture is nothing but posturing, and the type of culture on display at an anime convention is designed purely to remove the inhibition of cowards.

With my prize safely in hand, I raised my voice:

“Oh and BY THE WAY, YOUR PADS ARE BROKEN”

“Your face is broken” barked the weekend fascisti

“Yeah?” I said

“Yeah” he reiterated.

I stared at him.  He was perhaps 180 lbs, large frame.  Maybe he wrestled in high school and had some semblance of a clue.  Or more likely he was just another freak of a 4-point striker, another pathetic strand of costumed creature that engages in oriental line dance while purely masturbatory thoughts of sophistication flitter about in their heads.

“Yeah?”

I needed to make sure.  Talk is cheap.  There’s a reason back-and-forths aren’t sophisticated.  That brainpower is needed for other things.  Right about now, it was all turning on.

“He can kick you out, you know”

The other tournament organizer, apparently completely oblivious to the present state of affairs.  It figures.  But it was an opportunity.

“I don’t think you really have that authority”

“Not to kick you out of the convention, but out of the DDR room yeah”

Pffft.  Small loss, right?  But really at this point, I’m just happy the energy has been diverted.  Things had not been headed in a pretty direction.  So I pay them my respects, and get while the getting is good.

Leaving the room, I hear a half-hearted cry after me

“We run this event for free and you insult us, so fuck you”

I can’t help but laugh.  As if running Stepmania for the weekend to the benefit of  a collection of neutered misfits comprises any sort of chore.  I’m a DDR player.  That’s not all I am, but it’s there.  I know about tournaments.  This ridiculous demand for respect and assumption of authority is the most disgusting thing I’ve seen in my entire history as a player.  When a person has done what you have, and done it better than you, then you cannot command empathy.  You cannot project authority.  Certainly, you cannot demand respect.  I have run charity events using stepmania.

Posture less.

~ by Kilroy del Dancefighter Estallion the First on September 14, 2009.