vakkotaur

Blame mzmadmike. Evidently others are doing so, or at least planning revenge on him. Or maybe it's jmaynard's fault for triggering Mad Mike. While planning for the visit and deliveries to Penguicon in April, Jay pondered the various kinds of scopes (telescope, microscope, oscilloscope and such) noting that Mad Mike wrote The Scope of Justice. Mad Mike was so taken with the delivery and the gag that he asked what it would take to get Orvan to deliver things at LibertyCon. I hadn't made any plans for such a thing so I would need some help with a place to stay and with finding things to deliver. I found out later that the things to deliver weren't too big of a deal and that some were in mind before he thought of having Orvan make the deliveries. It was sort of "Hey, I know who we can get to do this." The upshot was that I had a place to stay overnight on the trip to LibertyCon and back, and some space to stay at the con itself. I pretty much just had to get there.

The deliveries went well. I haven't done anything with the photos yet, but I can list the recipients and who got what - and why.

In no particular order:

John Ringo has written a few books in which the aliens, Posleen, are enemies of Earth. The Posleen are reptilian. So he got some alligator jerky or sausage that was re-labeled as Posleen. John Ringo was the apologetic fellow who took delivery in the parking lot. I did get his signature on his book Road to Damascus.

Timothy Zahn, Master of Ceremonies, got a book. It was a very nice professionally done cover for Zahn and the Art of Spacecycle Maintenance by, of course, Timothy Zahn and was an alleged 20th anniversary celebration of his work. There were a couple more copies of this (the actual books were L. Ron Hubbard texts that were considered to be of little enough value to sacrifice for a good joke). He was brought these others to sign and asked, "Where are these coming from?!" Mad Mike's copy was signed, "I'm going to get you and your little dog, too."

Hank Reinhart got chain mail. Which was a bunch of envelopes (the mail) strung together on chainmaille. Evidently there had been argument that "chainmaille" was not a correct term and this was tweak at that.

Stephen Cobb wrote Bones Burnt Black (a copy of which I did not have for him to sign, alas). As Mad Mike put it, "I have bones. I have a torch." And thus Mr. Cobb got a sandwich bag of burnt chicken bones.

Toni Weisskopf got a "Glock external safety" that required professional installation. Toni is an editor who has to deal with authors mistakenly having characters click off the safety on a Glock. That sort of safety is not found on a Glock. Toni later told Orvan that she (finally?) got the joke and asked him who was responsible. Orvan managed to communicate who it was (this was made easy by the fortunate chance being near the right doorway at the time) and also despite the truth of the matter, that he hadn't told her.

Sarah Hoyt, who wrote some stories involving vampires, got some wooden bullets. If I remember correctly, they were Small arms Tactical Anti-undead Kinetic Energy (STAKE) rounds, used for dealing with vampire outbreaks. It was Sarah who accidentally got the empty box first. It was also Sarah who signed the sheet not as herself, but as Woody Woodpecker. I've actually been quite surprised by folks actually signing their own names.

Eric Flint, who was once a union organizer, got a box of Union Matches that were guaranteed to strike anywhere - especially if one spoke loudly of corporate profits and/or poor working conditions. I don't know if he struck one on the box or on something else, but shortly after delivery I did notice the smell of a match so he did try one.

David Weber wrote Empire From The Ashes and got an "Empire Starter Kit" which is a jar of ashes. I was a bit surprised when he not only read the label, but opened the jar and sniffed it to confirm that it was indeed ashes. (sistaur: This is what happened to the ashes I collected from your fireplace.) I bought a copy of the book and it is signed.

Uncle Timmy, the organizer of LibertyCon got a "Digital Bus." In this case it was a refrigerator magnet of a bus (all I could find) with a Cyrix 686 chip epoxied to it.

Ray Chatterjee, whose nickname is Bear, got a book. The book is, perhaps surprisingly, real. The title? How to Shit in the Woods.

Brandy, who was working at registration, got the registration survival kit.

Travis Taylor (Doc Travis) got a rocket. This one was (crudely) re-labeled as an "Alien Interceptor." As it came from the shelf at the local K-Mart, it is clearly Earth's last line of defense against invasion.

Vincent DiFate, Artist Guest of Honor, got a "jet fighter" that looked somewhat spaceship-like.

The Con Suite got ACME India Pale Ale and Liberty Ale. I sampled the Liberty Ale after finishing with the Orvan appearances for the day and either it was not at the right temperature or I had ate or drank exactly the wrong thing right before that, I hope. I found it bitter and nasty, and not just the expected bitterness of an IPA. I wound up handing it to someone else and whoever it was liked it and they were welcome to it. I'd be willing to try it again, but I'm not about to buy a six pack to find out.

BarFly Central got ACME India Pale Ale and ACME Pale Ale.

Saturday night as I was wandering the halls and checking out the parties as myself rather than Orvan, someone recognized me or at least Orvan's badge, which I was wearing. "Do you know someone is looking for you?" "No..." "Follow me."

The hall costume judges were divided into a male judge (for female) and female (for male). The female judge was, I learned, immensely pleased to discover that the person under the fur was male ("Oh good! I can judge him!"). Orvan's ACME delivery shtick, Cow Tail giveaway, and general - though silent - interaction earned him a little medallion: Best At Con - Male. I really had not been expecting that. A couple folks had told me or suggested to me that some hall costume award was a possibility but I had pretty much dismissed it. I wasn't there as any known character nor really from any obvious science fiction or even fantasy universe. I was there as a living cartoon character, and not any specific one. But evidently that didn't matter to the the judge. What mattered was that I was (at least somewhat) entertaining and therefore memorable.

I know I lucked out with the ACME delivery shtick and the Cow Tails giveaway bit. Orvan and his job seem as about as mundane as can be. He's not terribly active or zany. He's very workaday, really. And yet it all works. It may be performing, but I hardly feel like it's very much. Perhaps it's the George Burns definition (He once said that if the script says 'enter stage left, walk across stage and sit down' and you do, that's good acting and if you don't then it's bad acting.) I get the idea that it really doesn't take much. I know there are other fursuits that could easily command more attention and other people who could easily do more as well. But I do take time to set up the delivery gags, so there is something there. I have props - and at least for the deliveries they change.

I know I had success with the Scope of Justice delivery gag for mzmadmike just from his mentioning it. That he made arrangements for to get me to LibertyCon confirmed it. But seeing the bottle unopened on his office (not bathroom) shelf really told me that it worked. The gag worked so well that the delivered item had become a prize.

I have been complimented, and not just at LibertyCon, about being able to communicate fairly well without speaking. The vocabulary is limited. Orvan can show a parcel or point to a name and motion, "Have you seen $PERSON" or "I'm looking for $PERSON." He can nod "yes" or "no" or shrug his ignorance, and act dejected or distraught as some comments, or put a hoof to his forehead at yet another comment about things exploding. Or point to the ACME label and make a sign 'finger circles' at the side of his head ("ACME can be screwy" - like sending an empty box). Someone behind Orvan asked "Where's the beef?" and without time to suggest other dining ideas (he was busy working on the next delivery), Orvan just swatted his rump with one of the parcels he was carrying - to the questioner's delight or at least amusement. Orvan has also reacted at greater length to various suggestions regarding being dined upon. I wonder how much Orvan could do that I simply haven't thought of. Proper sign language is out as the hand-hooves just aren't up to it and any signals need to be universally understood.

There were a couple negative reactions at LibertyCon. One was a very young child who was afraid of the big ox, no matter what he did, so he kept back. And the other I heard about on the drive home when mzmadmike related he heard someone complain that "this isn't a furry con." Mad Mike had some things to say about that, which I (well, Orvan) did not hear.

Still, the only time I actually hear something on the order of "damn furries" is when other furries are making a facetious comment. I see trolls post such comments, but trolls aren't worth my (or anyone else's) time.

The one real issue is heat and its unfortunate effects. The hallways were not all that well air conditioned, even without being full of people. I was wearing fur. The result is sweat. My carrying extra fat around doesn't help. I'm still working on that, and not always with the degree of success I'd like.

I soaked my shirt before I knew it. Even when I had something on under that shirt, it got soaked. I don't like that, but I didn't notice it. I make sure to air everything out and I spray the suit with disinfectant. I have more than one set of clothes for Orvan's uniform and I have Febreze. I take a shower after every Orvan appearance. I have tremendous difficulty even imagining any even halfway sane fursuitter not taking similar steps.

There were folks who expressed sympathy or amazement for my wearing fur for the durations I did, where I did. John Ringo apologized to me in the parking lot as he got his delivery, and then again on Sunday when I could speak. Really, by the time I got to his delivery (the very last parcel delivery) I didn't really notice that it was any hotter outside than in the hotel hallway(s).

I've found that in suit, I don't really notice the heat so much. Or I notice it, but somehow don't care. What would be intolerable to me normally, is somehow no big deal while I'm "on." I only feel badly hot when still for an extended time. Once I get out of suit, however, I notice it and it's great relief to get out. And yet I've had so much fun doing it that I look forward to doing it all over again.