Expect everything of yourself. Expect nothing of others.

     “This [community] gave us all something to hold on to when we were at our highest highs and when we were at our lowest lows.” - J.B.

I’ve always floated between social groups. I’ve never had a long term group of friends. Like, I never had that group of buds that I met in grade two (hell, grade ten even) and I still see once a week. Or say peeps I did sports with at thirteen and still do beer league with. Nothing like that.

The greatest gift this community (this silly world of war dollies, dice with dumb odds, and over priced paint) has given to me is a collection of friends that I truly believe will be a part of my life for the coming decades. People who I know would move heaven and earth to make plans to see me if I told them I was flying across the ocean to hang with them. People who would find a place for me to sleep in their home if I was stuck on a layover. People who would loan me a car if I came to visit them. These are friends. Friends that I have never truly experienced in a broad way for the first 32 years of my life. I am so thankful for this gift.

…

I’d be lying if I didn’t say that my personal reasons for manifesting Into the Dungeon Fest were not partially based on this kind of energy in regards to Under the Dice Fest. Not due to any grievance I have or wrong doing against me, but because I was of the mindset of “fuck it, if they can do it here why can’t we do it at home?”

I wanted to create an experience that I know is an absolute rare commodity in Western Canada (and Canada as a whole, to the best of my knowledge). While we do have a vibrant hobby presence, a strong competitive scene, and some well known faces within the world of YouTube and Instagram, we really have nothing when it comes to events. Yah, there are 40k tourneys like everywhere else. But no one (at least up until this year) wast doing anything like Under the Dice Fest. I wanted to change that.

…

During the weekend of Into the Dungeon Fest, my friend James/@morax (who coordinated the live music and Magic the Gathering events) said to me, “Can you believe that less than a year ago there wasn’t even a scene in our city?” Variations of this were stated throughout the whole weekend. By a few of us. It was wild to see. To go from a 5 to 10 person “How to Play Mordheim” in the Summer of 2023 to a full blown event that had almost 100 people purchase advance passes to attend is staggering. 

What I say next is to emphasize a point that is bigger than me: the scene’s trajectory within my city. From a small “how to play” to this, it was because of me. This is not a boastful pride (if you know me you know I veer away from being the focus of attention). This is an objective appraisal of things. If I had not been inspired by what I saw at Adepticon 2023 and by the people I had met, and most importantly encouraged by my friends, Into the Dungeon Fest would not have happened. I wish to sincerely say thank you (to my friends and those who supported me) and acknowledge that all of this didn’t just come out of my asshole alone. 

Secondly, I wanted to make the point of “I did this” because I know there are people who want to have things like this in their hometown. 

Be the fucking change you want to see. 

I can tell you right now, it is a mostly thankless position to be in. And honestly, it’ll mean you’ll more often than not not be the one having the “fun” during the event. But it is worth it. Rolling dice is fleeting fun. Sparking something and then bringing in more people to help it grow into a fire is soul fulfilling. I would equate it to the difference of serotonin vs dopamine. One gives you that long lasting “feel good” feeling that helps regulate your mind, body and soul. The other gives you short lived ecstasy and usually has nothing to show for it in the long run.

Running events, organizing “how to play” events, building a whole scene from a place of “1” is arduous work. But if you remain consistent, adapt, and be discerning in who you choose to help share the load with, it will grow into something beautiful and beyond you. A small sliver of legacy that brings good vibes and joy into peoples’ lives.

One person can make a difference.

…

How would I quantify what success would be for Into the Dungeon Fest. Honestly, not by money. Once we passed the threshold of covering the cost of our venue money didn’t matter to me as a metric. Success was every vendor telling me they would come back for next year. Success was people telling our front door volunteers (thank you to you all!) that they will be back next year. Success was hearing that our guests visited our local LGS Sentry Box. Success seeing how my scene shined that weekend. From people running on the spot “How to Plays”, to vendors assisting with tear down. It was amazing.

…

Once the hall cleared out, I had a moment to myself alone. I stood on the stage and looked at the space that we had occupied. I welled up and I cried. We had done it. I had done it. I made a difference, a positive difference, in peoples’ lives. 

That is how I measure success.

 

PostScript

The intention of this post was more for me to excise my feelings and thoughts around the event and why I did it. Not so much how. I may do a post like that down the road, but honestly that is more of an “accountant’s tale”. It’s just a list of “I did this… then I did this.. Then I made that mistake… etc”. I didn’t want to write that and I assume most of you don’t truly want to read that. If you are sincerely curious about that side of things and have questions, I implore you to DM me directly. I’d much rather have a conversation about such details rather than listing them to the void.