Here is the final sequence of Armadeaddon, which you may think of as a kind of bonus stage. The next time poor diet or exhaustion leaves us without rejoinder to infernal continuity, panel two should provide more than enough raw material.
Though it is clear that this year’s PAX - the third in a trilogy! - was bursting the seams of the venue, we managed the disparity to the extent physical law would allow. With tabletop newly externalized at a twenty-four hour satelite convention in another hotel (via a provided shuttle), rented theaters playing the Ultraweb Superhit Serpents Aboard An Airliner, and also coloring contests etc., we did the best we could with a space that in the first year seemed roomy. Piles of beanbags provided impromptu seating, where a young man or woman might produce their DS - Phat or Lite - and engage in wireless communion. Attendance rested near twenty thousand for the three day event, twenty thousand, which I’m not convinced is actually a number.
I don’t know how to thank those of you who attended, or at any rate I don’t know how to thank you with sufficient intensity. We destroyed ourselves planning it, and our noble Enforcers toiled without ceasing to make three three days you entrusted us with extraordinary in some respect. Couples were engaged. Four foot tall fruit screwing machines produced authentic juice. Ethereal online entities coalesced into mortal beings and walked the Earth. We worried over it for months, arranging it like a florist might. We were glad to have you.
We were also host to a stalwart crew of Omeganauts this year. In accordance with PAX tradition, LeRoy - last’s year’s Omeganaut 2 - was allowed to come back to PAX and take another shot at the prize. He seized the opportunity with both hands, securing the keys to a Scion xB which we "pimped" to the extent that it nearly doubled the price. Davertron will have the same opportunity next year, at a new venue which should be able to hold the M1 Abrams Main Battle Tank or whatever we have to give away next year to top a car.
You may hear from a disreputable source that, after playing through Guitar Hero II’s "Trippin’ On A Hole In A Paper Heart" before the second concert, I raised the instrument above my head and then smashed it repeatedly into the stage. Let me assure you that this crass accusation is utterly devoid of merit. When I finished my song, I rested the guitar gently into velvet-lined case, with the care of a doting father for his sleeping son.
all hail the ball