Earlier this winter, fellow geek and Farrago writer Zeinab Jishi and I were lucky enough to be given the chance to attend Oz Comic Con. We met up outside the Melbourne Convention and Exhibition Centre at around 10:30AM and besides the cold morning breeze, we felt majorly out of place. We were the only ones with no costumes in a sea of neon blue anime wigs and intricately crafted swords.

Upon acquiring our passes at the venue’s entrance, we were astonished at the number of stalls. The lanes seemed to go on forever, which had me beyond ecstatic to explore what Comic Con had to offer. Passing by the first stall we came across, I quickly stopped in my tracks when I saw what they were selling—prop weapons. Kratos’ Blades of Chaos seen in the God of War games, Dante’s pair of pistols named Ebony and Ivory from the Devil May Cry series, Cloud Strife’s gigantic buster sword from Final Fantasy 7. A closer inspection revealed a price range of $40. Reasonable prices for wooden replicas, but out of my personal budget.

Further down the lane was the Bandai Namco pop-up stall, which had lengthy queues that wrapped around the stall itself twice. Premier collectibles, such as those produced by S.H.Figurarts, made up most of the Bandai stock, alongside Tamagotchis. They were fun to inspect, and a great deal of envy came over me when I saw dedicated attendees leave with multiple bags in hand. Much like the replica weapons stall, they were expensive and out of the question. 

Leaving the pop-up marked a significant turning point in my Comic Con experience. The quality and effort in the products showcased in subsequent stalls were of a noticeable downgrade. 3D printed fidgets, AI-generated graphics on T-shirts, Tung Tung Tung Sahur plushies. I realised I’d seen all these things of this variety in places like Queen Victoria Market. What were they doing in a convention of this scale, with  a $51 price tag? 

Once the initial awe wore off, it was clear there was nothing special of note beyond the Artist Alley. It was brilliant seeing so many authors speaking about their novels, artists selling handmade keychains and stickers. It was the only time in which I felt like I saw what Comic Con really had to offer, making connections and extending support from fellow fans across Australia. 

Community-led events were promoted, but even they felt slapped together in mere minutes. Competitive events like a Just Dance competition should ideally feel exciting and full of adrenaline. Instead, I saw a red rug placed in the corner of the venue with a small screen displaying the dance with a handful of chairs haphazardly placed around for spectators. Disappointment could not be any more of an understatement. Oz Comic Con, on paper, should be paradise for geeks all over, yet only one question stayed on my mind: is this it? 

There wasn’t anything to capture the wonderment I had at the start when it dawned on me that this was nothing more than an overpriced shopping trip. Everything was behind a paywall. It’s understandable and welcomed when it comes to locally made art and prints. It’s a different feeling entirely when it’s to take a photo with celebrity guests. I really do like Giancarlo Esposito, but I don’t think that $120 just for a photo with him is worth it. 

The direst aspect of the whole experience was witnessing the pure lack of accessibility. Multiple disabled users that required lanes and ramps for their mobility chairs had trouble navigating the venue because of overcrowding. There was a shortage of control and organisation that felt lazy at best, and dangerous at worst.

I want to establish clearly that all my issues are solely directed toward the organisation and structure of the event, not the artists, the workers or the attendees. I couldn’t be any more elated meeting all the cosplayers and attendees, whose eyes lit up when you complimented their getup. Seeing young families taking their children to their very first convention made the day almost worthwhile as its moments like those that I will remember fondly. 

To host an event with such a disingenuous attempt to make it fun at all feels like a major slap to everyone in attendance. It’s not completely unheard of that conventions now feel much duller and more corporate than they were before. Convention-going as an activity no longer holds the same weight of being community-first as it was a decade ago. It’s the direct result of corporate greed seeking maximum ticket sales to turn a profit over genuine care of the attendees’ wellbeing. Cheaply made, mass-produced products have taken the spotlight from real artists with real human art. I believe in the strength of community, and I hope that future conventions remember what the core intentions of Oz Comic Con were.