Quake and Bake
One Man’s Pilgrimage to do the Same Thing He Does Every Weekend Anyway, but More Different
Once upon a time (the 1990s, to be specific) before hordes of Pokemon Go players flocked to the streets for Pidgey or Snoop Dogg was spotted at E3 after his dev work on Battlefield 1, the video gaming landscape felt more like a grassroots political campaign than the multi-billion dollar cash cow that it is today.
A Virgin Frontier
In the early twilight of the Internet Age, PC gamers were already a hugely decentralized bunch. Even to this day, developers for video game consoles must jump through a series of hoops in order to get licensed — not only forced to buy expensive dev kits but subject to a rigorous approval process.
On the other hand, PCs were (and still are) open to any member of the populous with an idea for a game and the know-how to code it. Just imagine the kind of groundbreaking video-speriences that were finally unshackled!
This freedom, combined with the ability to exchange PCs’ insides for more powerful counterparts, put the platform on the forefront of technological innovation in the gaming industry. It was a perfect blend of conditions for a man-god named John Carmack to change the universe.
This beautiful, bespectacled legend of a developer, founder of video game studio id and personal hero #1 to me, began his legacy in 1991 with a shareware Mario clone titled Commander Keen, but went on to more or less invent the first-person shooter genre with the release of Wolfenstein 3D, Doom, and of course, Quake.
I could go on for hours about what his innovation did for the industry, but the most admirable part of Carmack’s reign is his deep involvement with the video game community. Like a do-good math teacher in the inner city, it was in 1996 when Carmack took under his wing a group of lowly but enthusiastic LAN (Local Area Network) players and sponsored their gaming party as an official id event.
In doing so, he started an annual, volunteer-driven tradition known as Quakecon, self-described as the “Woodstock of Gaming” and a Mecca for gamers across the southern United States.
Mecca, TX
And so, twenty years later, I’m lugging my PC and monitor into the frigid back warehouse of the Hilton Anatole in Dallas, among the three thousand or so other con-goers (or as I call them, “Quakers”). 2016 marks my sixth year of attendance, although some of the people in my group had been going for a decade or more. (Side note — it’s seen as a badge of honor to wear old Quakecon shirts. Those with the most bragging rights can be seen in tattered Quake-themed rags with dates from the Clinton administration).
The first step is to find your pre-selected spot for the long weekend in the BYOC (short for Bring Your Own Computer). The warehouse is kept cold enough to store raw meat inside. You’re going to be freezing all weekend, but it’s better than the scores of hot motherboards turning the place into a furnace.
Among hundreds of long tables lined with power cables, you’ll finally locate your spot and set up your station. Most people go in groups and try to register for seats near one another — I’m there every year with a dozen or so of my high school friends, but it’s not uncommon to see married couples or entire gaming families with kids in tow.
By now, the hall is overflowing with hype and there’s electricity in the air (This is just a metaphor — if you actually feel electricity, please contact Quakecon staff immediately). Eager shouts of other Quakers flood the warehouse as they race to set up their equipment and kick off the long weekend. I may have outgrown Santa Claus long ago, but the tingling giddiness in my fingertips right now is the closest I’ll feel all year to being a kid on Christmas morning.
Let the Gamers Begin
Then — and this is the part that’s always hard to explain to my coworkers — once you’re all set up, the next step is to just sort of veg out for the whole weekend. By far the most time you’ll be spending at Quakecon will be huddled deep within a blanket in front of a monitor, fragging your neighbors in deathmatch or catching up on single-player games in your Steam library. If you’ve ever spent a late night eating Bagel Bites and gaming in your friend’s living room, extend this to an entire three days and you’ll get a feel for what I’m talking about.
Despite the name, Quakecon is not exclusive to Quake by any means. Usually, if you want the 411 on the latest fad in gaming, look no further than your neighbors’ computer monitors — nearly every screen at Quakecon this year was occupied by Blizzard’s new team-based shooter Overwatch, or id’s own fantastic reboot of 1993’s Doom.
As day one turns to night, the bright monitor has burned crosshairs into your eyeballs and you’ll start to feel fatigued. Fortunately, Quakecon has no shortage of events to keep gamers occupied even away from the long wooden tables. Adjacent to the BYOC is the Event Hall, a slightly smaller arena filled to the brim with hardware vendors advertising and raffling away quality gaming goods.
Con-goers are also privy to exclusive looks at upcoming id titles (or those by sister company Bethesda, after id’s 2009 acquisition by Zenimax Media), sometimes even before they’re released on the internet. I’ll never forget being one of the first to be treated to a demon being bloodily eviscerated by a chainsaw during 2014’s Doom preview, or the screaming masses of fans during The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim reveal in 2011 when the game was barely confirmed to even exist. In fact, Carmack himself would famously kick off the event with a keynote every year, until leaving id to spearhead the Oculus Rift.
Austin’s own Master Pancake Theater is a staple for any Quakecon experience, having lampooned “classics” from Labyrinth to Twilight for as long as I’ve been going. Basically, they’re a funny version of your idiot friend who talks through every episode of Thrones.
And the contests. God, the contests. Beyond the ubiquitous raffles of the Event Hall, those of a more competitive nature can throw down against one another in on-stage challenges for the world to witness. These can range from speedrunning a dungeon in Oblivion to performing daring feats of strength.
Power Users
Hands down though, my favorite to watch every year has been the “Case Mod Contest”, a fashion show of custom PC towers featuring a breadth of beautiful, sometimes downright bizarre fan creations. Those with the flashiest computers often get seats in the aisle, where they’ll have a flock of onlookers snapping pics at any given moment. It’s the same awesome admiration that auto nuts get at custom car shows.
From the tireless volunteer hours to the insane custom cases, this DIY structure is all just indicative of the decentralized, player-centric nature of the PC gaming crowd — thousands of nerds congregating under a shared interest. And honestly, this kind of thing wouldn’t be possible with any other method of gaming.
While I’ve dropped way too many hours into Halo to claim I don’t have love for TVs and consoles, proprietary hardware simply doesn’t have the depth of customization to build a community this tightly knit. Quakecon was birthed by tinkerers and power users, rising from archaic usenet forums of geeks who loved to get their hands dirty and actually own their machines.
So Why Go?
Still, what draws thousands of people from all corners of the world to Dallas to play the same video games they’d probably be playing at home? As corny as it sounds, I think it’s the sense of community that enhances these things for everybody.
The Quakecon IRC channel, a local chat room built on technology from the pre-AIM days, is constantly atwitter with the peer-to-peer spirit of PC gaming. Players join this room to trade parts, organize pick-up games, or just to talk shop with their peers. I honestly wish the chat room would make a comeback in day-to-day life, as its usefulness as an ad-hoc event forum really does wonders for bringing the community together.
And even after stepping away from the computer, one doesn’t have to go far to hang with like-minded PC fanatics. There’s a delicious (if not hideously overpriced) bar that serves themed drinks like the BFG, and the courtyard of the Hilton is usually packed with gamers playing guitar around the fire pit or puffing e-cigs or hookah (gamers love their alternative forms of tobacco). This year, the Hilton even got a brand-new water park, complete with a lazy river. (Gamers are advised NOT to bring their computers into the lazy river).
I spent about three hours on Day 2 with my cohorts playing Rocket League against some kids who looked about eleven. We whooped their asses of course, but I think it’s cool that literally anyone was up for a game, even people with whom I’d probably never interact with outside of the BYOC.
And beneath all the raffles, previews, and swag, stuff like that is what Quakecon’s all about, you know? A demographic with the rep of being a bunch of “shut-ins” coming out to talk shop, goof around and just hang out together. Even after 20 years, there’s a warmness permeating the freezing warehouse, one fueled by a community driven by nothing but the love for their hobby. (Or maybe that’s just my GPU heating up).
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