After a mere 15 minutes within the venue, while standing in line among an assortment of people I had never met before, many wearing armor, masks, and uniforms that I had seen before, I came to a shocking and distressing discovery: I had left my phone in the car that had brought me to Detroit; a car which was speeding away at 50 miles back towards home.

This is how my 24 hours of nonstop immersion in a reality based around fiction began.

Youmacon is an annual anime/video gaming convention hosted in Detroit. Occurring the last weekend of October, the event draws thousands of visitors each year, and has grown from a small, local-area meetup to an immense convention which has attendees from all across the nation. The first con, in 2005, had a little over 1,000 visitors; as of 2013, the official count was closer to 15,000. And the trend over previous years leads one to believe that the number will continue to grow. Dominating the entirety of the Marriott Hotel and at more than half of Detroit’s Cobo Center, it is Michigan’s largest convention for gaming and japanese popular culture, and the 10th largest of its kind in the nation.

A quick series of borrowed phone calls and a second goodbye later, my day as an attendee started. In my possession was a recently purchased event badge, a wallet of disposable income (which would prove to barely be enough), and a vague idea of what to do first. I was planning to meet up with a collection of friends from school at some point, but the most urgent matter of business was to search the Dealer’s Room for merchandise that might pique my interest. The Dealer’s Room, while the name may sound semi-shady, is quite possibly one of the biggest draws for a young nerd with cash to burn: a room the size of a warehouse filled with rows of vendor booths. One can acquire almost anything, from expert-crafted prop weapons, to original art made by fans, to simple phone accessories. After an initial look at the wares, and proper budgeting, one can buy the items they were interested in without fear of running out of cash. Be warned, however, that while you may have all the merch you have ever wanted, you still need to eat. Food is pricey, especially if you’re stuck in a building whose sole purpose is to make money off of you.

A common, non-intrusive event which encompasses the entire event is the cosplay. Defined simply, cosplay is the act of dressing up as a character from a series or movie. Groups might coordinate their costumes to fit a group of characters. One can buy pre-made costumes from specialists on the internet, or can make them on their own. The sky – and your budget – is the limit. Cosplay is such a prominent part of convention culture that at times it causes general issues for event planning and security. This year’s Youmacon forbade any form of mask to be worn within the Marriott, due to security concerns. Prop weapons, like firearms and blades, are also forbidden, and any guns must have an obvious luminescent orange cap, to prevent any mixups with real weapons.

A flurry of text messages led me, eventually, to my comrades, and after checking in and ensuring passage into the holy land of sleep (a small hotel room, whose closet I would claim for my own), I was prepared to make my once-a-year merch purchases. Final billing: One wall scroll for hanging, four small prints from independent artists, a t-shirt whose design I absolutely loved, and a character-themed tarot card. The rush of buyer’s high thick in my veins, a quick checking of the schedule showed a few noteworthy screenings and panels. Youma’s schedule is entirely event-full 24 hours a day, from Friday to Sunday. With time to kill, I decided to head over to the hotel, and check out the game rooms.

Imagine, if you will, a simple, classic arcade. Now imagine if that arcade was a meeting hall filled with noise from furious button-mashing, general babble, whirr of computer fans and shouts of anger and triumph. That would be the video side of the gaming wing. The other side is the tabletop room, a relatively less raucous and smaller hall. This is what I will focus on, seeing as my time in the video side was crowded, short-lived, and generally too loud to remember. Stacks of board games new and old are kept on tables near the entrance, under watchful but helpful eyes. Any of the multitude could be taken from its place (with permission) and playtested. I opted not to play, and only spectated a few bizarre games, one involving the domination of Tokyo by various enormous beasts. In a far corner, I began to watch a role-playing mecha (fighting robots!) strategy game which used smaller figurines as game pieces, which the players would take turns positioning and attacking with in a large, constructed cityscape of foam and printed cardstock. I pulled up a chair between the only other spectator, a 20-something with a ginger beard and moustache wearing a hat you might see on a sherpa, and one of the players, who wore thick fingerless gloves and was rather sour about being put in a losing position by the guy who had offered him the player spot earlier. He and I struck up a light conversation about mecha as a genre, and after admitting that I knew not much about the thing as a whole, he began wholly recommending the series the board game was based on. 15 minutes of play later, his loss was made final, and he and I parted ways.

As the night went on, the hotel base showed no signs of quieting. One of the lower halls had been appropriated for the Two In The Morning™jk rave, and the jabber of those in line was audible from any position on the central column. Further up, a small collection of attendees held an impromptu dance party of their own, with a small speaker system and a few yards of space on a walkway. The late-night janitorial staff stood by in wonder as the mini-mosh played out in place. A few dozen minutes later, and with my whole body hot with exhaustion, I began to think upwards, to the hotel room that the friends I had met up with earlier had managed to afford. But the morning was still young. Sleep would come in an hour or three.

Surrounded by such a collection of people, I felt awed. Simple images on screens have the power to move human beings to these lengths to show appreciation. Art, in animated form, can make thousands of people get together for the sole purpose of having a great time. While some might only see cons as a mass get-together of unhygienic asocial dweebs, I see it as a meeting of interests, and a chance to remind yourself who might be on the other side of the screen. That guy over there might have entirely different tastes from you, and think your favorite show of the year is a steaming pile of garbage. The kid in the minecraft creeper hoodie might just be there for the gaming, and not care at all about the people around him. The woman running an art booth might be packing up and heading home as soon the Dealer’s Room closes. But you were there, with those people, in the same building. In a world where we grow more and more individual in body, but more unified in communication, it grows easy to forget the number of living, breathing bodies you are connected to every day through the internet. After only a few minutes in the crowds of Youmacon, you’re sure to remember that number for the rest of your life.

Groups of people yelling and dancing around each other as the head of the competitions yells for people’s name through the loud crowd. Men from the age of 14 to 28 were sitting down and playing video games. The room was the size of an auditorium and was packed like a concert. People screaming and laughing as they watch their friends get destroyed at a game they thought they were good at. Magic is happening and people can barely handle it.

During youmacon, a room is closed off for the sake of competitive and casual video gaming. The room is open 24/7 and has all manner of consoles and games. The sound of clicking can be heard from the staircase up. The people are laughing and fighting while they destroy each other in video games. The only true anger stemming from losing every match.

On the saturday during the Con, I had the excitement of entering the Super Smash Brothers Melee competition. Melee, as it’s called in the community, is my favorite fighting game. I was proud of my skill in the game that made me want to enter. I was even hoping that I would get onto the main screen, in which my game would be streamed to thousands of people.

The tournament organizer, known as the TO, started to scream over the crowd of people that everyone playing Melee needs to meet at the front desk. My heart was beating. It was the first tournament I was entering and I wanted to win. The only thing holding me back was my own skill. While waiting around, I heard the TO call me and another person to the front desk.

“Go find a tv and start playing, let me known when you win,” the TO said to me, “Good luck.” We both found a TV and sat down. The person I was playing was a skinny 14 year old boy wearing a costume. He looked as nervous as I felt. We both agree on what map to play on, and we start.

In the game, we exchange back and forth hits, nearly flinging each other off the edge each time we hit. In a close game, I take the first match, scraping by the skin of my teeth. I feel on the edge, thinking that I should have done better. Before I can start getting worried, we start the next match.

The conditions were best out of three. I had won two games without losing once. I smiled and cheered as I went to tell the TO I had won. My victory had worried me. I wasn’t doing as well as I could have been; I needed to do better. The TO calls another man from the crowd around us, and I see the look on his face. He looks confident, like he knows he is going to win, no doubt in his mind.

His face scared me. It showed me a face of ‘I am going to beat you’. I smile and go to find a TV with him. We plug in our controllers and start the game.

The game was not even close, me losing while he only lost one life out his four. I cringe at this development, and prepare my mind. I didn’t put ten dollars on the line to just lose my second match! I wouldn’t lose here.

The second match starts off good, me taking a life off him within ten seconds. We played the best we could, but I still lost, two to zero. I was horrified. I was horrified until I learned that people who lost could still win the tournament by going through the losers bracket.

The losers bracket was my claim to fame. If I won from that, I would be recognized throughout the state. I was ready to make myself known to the world. The first losers bracket match was called. I get paired with someone in a jumpsuit and a motorcycle helmet.

I couldn’t even tell the emotions of the person playing me. Looking into the helmet was like looking into a void. I was scared of this. The masked man said only two sentences to me.

“What map?” and “Good game.”

I had lost my first tournament after making it to the second round. I was happy I was able to get past my first round, and I was ready to go again next year. I was ready to practice, and that’s what I did.