Megan

"What's on?" Sandy asked, pushing the slightly stuck door of the apartment open. Megan lounged on the aged couch set opposite the TV, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, her attention fully on the screen.

"You wouldn't like it. There's no lasers." Megan replied with a smirk, looking over at Sandy.

Sandy closed the door with a quick slam of her shoulder against it. The trick to the door was to lift slightly, but that required extra **** to be applied against the top of the door.

"Yeah, well, game night was a bust." Sandy shrugged, slinging her bag over a hook near the door. "Why do the fatbeards always come to my table?"

"Because you play 'I love the Eighties?" Megan suggested.

That wasn't completely fair. Yes, Sandy knew she was a bit of a retro gamer, but she had a very good reason. The vast majority of innovation in gaming had occurred prior to Hasbro taking over Dungeons and Dragons, in her opinion. Yes, the artwork was cheesy, and she freely admitted the classic poster of "The Black Widow" on her door had a great deal of the James Cameron action girl feel, but it was light-years better than the current crop of games with their "Supermodel contortionist" heroines.

"No, it's because that's all the players there are anymore." Sandy complained.

"So, find a new hobby." Megan shrugged. "Or find some new players."

"I'm tired of finding new players only to have the same thing happen." Sandy knew she was venting, and the bored look on Megan's face made her contemplate stopping, but she pressed on regardless. "Hell, I go to a convention and it's the same damn thing. Everybody assumes I'm there with a boyfriend or a booth babe, even though I look nothing like a..."

"I know. I got it. They suck. Maybe it's time you choose a hobby that doesn't have a large number of social misfits." Megan offered the sane and logical solution. Sandy was sick of hearing it however. Yes, the logical thing to do was just to give up. However logical it was, it wasn't fair. It was HER hobby too.

"So, what, hang out at some club and play the Kardashian RPG? No thanks." Sandy smirked. She glanced at the screen, and noted that it was an upscale bar scene with everyone laughing and smiling in that perfect way that people only do in bad television.

"Suit yourself. Just stop complaining about it, please. You're the one who chooses to be there." Megan rolled her eyes and refocused her attention on the television.

With no real reason to stay in the main room, Sandy crossed past the small kitchen alcove, to the short hallway which led to her room. She pushed open the door at the far left, festooned with her classic poster, which had inspired the earlier joke. She momentarily contemplated the bare midriffed woman on it, complete with the torn leather jacket that screamed eighties cool. It was still better than the current crop of gaming posters because at least there was no cleavage, and the pose was humanly possible, although admittedly your hand would get tired holding a weapon like that.

For a moment, Sandy contemplated canceling her upcoming trip to Bigcon. She really didn't fit in with the current scene, and while there was a retro gaming contingent there, it seemed to be getting smaller every year. Although it was her one big vacation, the last time had really soured her on the experience. Add to that tonight...

She flipped on the overhead light, taking in the sight of her room. Vintage posters of old RPG's met her gaze as they always did. Occasionally there would be the visage of a newer item, like the updated middle earth map over her desk, but for the most part the room was a shrine to an imaginary time which was no longer in chic. A time when Ripley and Sarah Conner had been the standard for female characters, not the fake competence of the feminine warrior who still needs to be rescued by the big tough manly male, who so often turned out to be a father figure.

Her eyes lit on her desk, and took in the shape of the convention badge which lay there. Only two weeks away, and yet she still wasn't sure if she was going. She could always sell it online, of course, and recoup some of what she'd paid. It wasn't mandatory that she go to the con, after all. Even though they were going to have several events that she wanted to see, and it was always a gas to hang out at the comic artists panel...

She sighed again. She wanted to go. She had to admit that to herself. Sharing a room was fun, and she already had the reservation with her online group. This year, however, she was with a new group that she hadn't stayed with before, which was always a bit of a scary experience. She didn't even really know much about them, since she had made the arrangements based solely on handles. It always went fine until one or two of the guys hit the bar and then hit on her. Last year, she had slept in the bathroom with the door locked after a particularly aggressive come-on. Online, she was just one of the guys, with her fairly gender neutral handle of Sand. In person, she became an available female.

"I just wish, they'd treat me like they do when they think I'm a guy." Sandy mused to the wall. That was the main problem. Going to the convention meant stripping away all the facades, just like gaming in person did. She was no longer Sand, kickass Merc Leader under contract to the Magistry of Canopus, or Sand, 14th level Bard who can con her way past any guard who was ever born. Instead she was just Sandy, girl who is probably here with her boyfriend or trying to find a boyfriend, or any of a dozen other reasons to be at the con, none of which have to do with actually playing games.

She flopped down on her bed, pulling a dog eared game manual onto her stomach. If only...

A ghost of an idea flitted across her mind. It would be so great if she could just go in character. People went in Cosplay all the time, but that was a section of the con she never bothered with because she had no interest in looking like an anime character. If only she could go as one of her characters.