Several students, including Jessica Liu, attended the Otakon convention in Baltimore last weekend.
Before descending on the Baltimore Convention Center last weekend, many people adjusted their attire one final time.
Even in bright blue wigs, spiked-out hair and maid outfits, the boldest fans barely stood out among thousands of convention-goers. At Otakon, anything goes.
The 19th annual three-day convention drew an audience of more than 32,000 diehard Manga and anime fans and casual pop-culture lovers, according to figures released by the convention. Victor Albisharat, the head of press and publicity at Otakon, said 1,000 more people attended this year’s event than last year’s, including a few students who traveled from this campus for the chance to traipse the convention center halls in carefully constructed outfits and slip into different personas.
Otakon describes itself as a “convention of Otaku generation,” referring to the Japanese term for someone with an obsession, usually Manga or anime, that keeps them from even leaving their house.
Many hurl “otaku” as an insult, akin connotatively to being geeky or socially inept, but in America the term has morphed into an umbrella category that describes anyone with an avid interest in Manga, illustrated Japanese comic books, and anime, Japanese television or film animation.
Manjur Ahmed, a junior electrical engineering major, said the highlights of Otakon are people-watching and cosplay — a term that combines the words “costume” and “play.”
“I think you get the most out of it if you dress up and enjoy yourself, and talk to other people,” he said.
Kelly Wong, a sophomore community health major, dressed up as a member of Team Rocket, the villainous team featured in Pokémon. She said she had a great experience bonding with fellowPokémon characters and joined an impromptu outdoor photoshoot with about 50 other Pokémoncosplayers.
“There was a collection of gym leaders, Pokémon, Pokémon trainers, the bad guys,” Wong said. “[Photoshoots] are really fun because a lot of people who are complete strangers get to meet others [and ask], ‘Oh my God, how long did you spend on your costume?’ ”
The event also featured workshops, screenings of anime films, video game tournaments and panel discussions like “Ladies’ Choice: A Guide to Hentai” and “Pokeholics Anonymous.”. In one cavernous hall, dealers of anime-related wares hawked everything from sushi-shaped pillows to purple-colored contacts and scandalous R-rated Manga posters.
However, Ahmed said the convention’s planned activities sometimes fell flat.
“The panels, I’ll be honest, aren’t really that great,” he said.
One successful new feature was the maid café, where women dressed up as French maids, developed personas and served customers, a nod to an otaku fetish. Albisharat said Otakon’s caféonly admitted 40 people at a time, contributing to lines that were two to three hours long.
Lian Bien, a senior behavioral and community health major, said she enjoyed the experience of serving as a maid at the café. Each server — some men dressed as butlers — came up with his or her own persona. “Overly cute” Bien and the other maids performed dances and showed off talents in matching navy and white outfits.
“It was a lot of fun being a part of Otakon rather than just seeing panels and going to concerts and things like that,” she said.
This year also marked the first time a K-pop band played at Otakon. Albisharat said the performance by Korean pop band VIXX “added an extra highlight which people really enjoyed.”
Wong, attending her third Otakon, said she keeps coming back for the atmosphere of acceptance and friendliness.
“I remember one year, I kind of just was so lost because the entire building was so huge and I was kind of shy, too,” said Wong. “People were really nice. … I really like Otakon not because of the concept, but the people you meet there.”
The main gripe for student convention-goers this year was the cost — $80 for three days.
Rochelle Gobantes, a criminology and criminal justice and psychology double major who attended the convention with Ahmed, said she had hesitated at the expense.
“It was kind of difficult for me to decide whether or not I wanted to do this, but it was just something I knew I would enjoy and I knew I wouldn’t regret paying for,” she said.
Ahmed said he didn’t think Otakon was worth the $80, although it was a good experience.
“I would not say it was worth $80,” he said. “Maybe like $60.”
Gobantes’ group of friends decided not to go to the maid café, where admission was a $10 donation (albeit with one free drink) that came on top of the price for snacks and additional drinks. They came up with a uniquely American solution, Gobantes said.
“We didn’t want to pay 40-plus dollars to get served by hot maids, so we went to Hooters instead,” she said.
