One of the things I’ve loved most about Gen Con so far is that every day has been completely different. Day One was all about finally arriving at the convention I’d dreamed of attending since I was a kid reading Dragon Magazine. Day Two leaned into the creativity that makes tabletop gaming so special, from magical libraries to cyberpunk intrigue in the streets of New Orleans.
We started the morning with a game called Overdue, from Dahlia’s Diversions for Peculiar Parties by Steve Jackson Games. The description alone sold us:
“Welcome to the Central Branch! As an Apprentice, you’ll need to work hard to prove that you have the skills to care for and safeguard an infinite number of magical tomes. As part of these duties, you will need to work together with other acolytes to locate and recover overdue books.”
How could you not want to play that?
The game began with each of us filling out an application to become apprentices at the Central Branch, an interdimensional magical library that houses every magical book ever written. Before we could begin our training, we had to invent our apprentice—where they came from, what kind of being they were, and what branch of magic they specialized in.
Naturally, I couldn’t make things easy on myself.
My apprentice was a cloud-like entity whose magical expertise revolved around vapors, gases, air, and permeable non-solids like foam. Jenn created a tiny mote of living light whose magic encouraged growth and flourishing life. Another player brought a sentient teddy bear whose specialty was manipulating static electricity. Right from the start, everyone at the table was laughing as we tried to outdo each other with increasingly bizarre magical concepts.
Then came my favorite part.
Each player invented the title of an overdue magical library book.
Jenn created Growing Plants for Poultices, Teas and Other Magical Remedies: A Cookbook, while I contributed Oh God, Not Again! A Treatise on Deities Caught in Time Loops.
Those books were shuffled around the table, and each of us had to determine who had checked out our assigned volume and why they hadn’t returned it. Before heading out on our retrieval mission, we worked with the library advisors to prepare spells that might help us overcome whatever obstacles we imagined lying ahead.
Of course, no plan survives first contact with reality.
Our carefully crafted magical solutions failed in hilarious and unexpected ways before we finally managed to recover the books and complete our apprenticeships. It felt less like playing a traditional RPG and more like collaboratively writing the world’s strangest fantasy novel together. It was imaginative, funny, and wonderfully unpredictable. I can already tell this is one I’ll happily play again.
Afterward I spent more time wandering the exhibition hall, and somehow my wallet survived… barely.
One stop I absolutely couldn’t pass up was the Palladium Books booth. I picked up a fresh copy of Heroes Unlimited and had it signed by Kevin Siembieda himself.
That was a genuinely nostalgic moment.
Palladium games were a huge part of my high school gaming years. We played Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles & Other Strangeness, Heroes Unlimited, and of course Rifts. Seeing Kevin there, still meeting fans after all these years, reminded me just how much those games shaped my early gaming experiences. It’s moments like these that make Gen Con feel like a reunion with old friends—even when those friends are games you’ve loved for decades.
Goodman Games also managed to separate me from more money, but I regret absolutely nothing.
They were running some fantastic convention specials. Their paperback core rulebooks were only ten dollars, so I picked up extra copies of Dungeon Crawl Classics, Mutant Crawl Classics, and Xcrawl. They also had one of those dangerous “Fill the Box” sales where everything that fit inside a slipcase was half off.
Challenge accepted.
I managed to squeeze in an excellent dice case that doubles as a dice tray, some fresh DCC dice, and a set of counters for Dungeon Denizens 1. If you’re a tabletop gamer, you know there’s a special kind of satisfaction in maximizing one of those convention box sales. It’s practically a puzzle game in itself.
We wrapped up the evening with what turned out to be one of the highlights of the entire trip.
Our group sat down for a Shadowrun adventure run by one of Catalyst Game Labs’ fantastic game masters. The adventure took place in New Orleans, where our team of shadowrunners was hired to investigate the disappearance of several voodoo practitioners.
Our crew came together beautifully. We had a combat mage, a drone rigger, a street samurai, a smuggler… and me.
I played the team’s decker, operating under the handle Neon Nutria, which may now be one of my favorite Shadowrun character names I’ve ever created.
As we dug deeper into the mystery, we uncovered a web of conspiracies involving a sinister figure known as Mr. Bones and an enigmatic woman named Mama Eliza, who seemed to be pulling strings from the shadows. The investigation took us across New Orleans, mixing cyberpunk technology with voodoo folklore in a way that felt perfectly at home in the Sixth World.
The game master did an outstanding job. The pacing was excellent, the NPCs were memorable, and the mystery unfolded naturally while still giving every player opportunities to contribute. Just as importantly, the group clicked immediately. Everyone stayed engaged, built on one another’s ideas, and made sure each player had moments to shine. Those are the kinds of convention games you remember long after the dice are packed away.
By the end of Day Two, I realized something that’s difficult to explain to someone who has never been to Gen Con.
Yes, there are incredible vendors. Yes, there are exclusive products and legendary designers. Yes, there are thousands upon thousands of games.
But the real magic isn’t what’s for sale.
It’s sitting around a table with complete strangers who become teammates in the span of five minutes. It’s collectively inventing ridiculous magical books, laughing when impossible plans go sideways, meeting the creators whose games shaped your childhood, and then stepping into entirely new adventures with people you’ll probably never see again—but whose stories you’ll remember for years.
Tomorrow there are more games to play, more booths to explore, and undoubtedly a few more opportunities to convince myself that I really do need another set of dice.
So far, Gen Con has been every bit as magical as I’d hoped it would be.