The dragon tracks are half the size of a person and starting to puddle with rain. There have to be dozens of them carefully stamped into the concrete of the Culver City sidewalk, which I suppose is the sort of thing a studio can manage if it’s the passion project for one of the richest men in the world. I pull up my hood and follow the tracks past trendy, loft-like workspaces to the mouth of an alleyway that runs along the back of a warehouse building.

There, I find an LA-staple—the Girl With Clipboard—standing under a medieval-styled awning. She’s probably fifteen years younger than I am and has dozens of long, silky black braids cascading over thin, dark brown shoulders. She wears emerald and brown sleeveless adventuring garb trimmed in elaborate gold embroidery. A pair of very well-done prosthetic elf ears complete the look. The Qeth Experience’s costuming department, apparently, spared no expense.

She doesn’t actually have a clipboard, of course; instead, it’s a tablet concealed within a large tome of a book that’s open across a lectern made to look like some kind of altar. A large table spreads out next to her under the awning, covered in prop relics and dozens of additional tablets, each wrapped in cases styled like spell books. An open treasure chest at the end of the table reveals carefully folded interface glasses for the VR portion of the Experience.

“Bright morning, Adventurer!” She’s incredibly chipper, and her earnest enthusiasm is how you know the Experience, which has been created in celebration of the upcoming streaming series adaptation, is still in previews. At this point, anyone could show up; it’s entirely possible that I’m a casting director or agent or someone else serious who could catapult her where she wants to go if only she makes the right impression. She doesn’t even seem bored yet, though I guess it is just opening for the day. I wanted to get here before there was traffic or a line, and LA is not a morning town, so I figured 10:00 a.m. on a rainy Sunday would do the trick.

“Bright morning!” I try to match her enthusiasm, but it just feels inauthentic.

The truth is, to say Qeth is not my fandom would be putting it mildly. I know about it, sure. You can’t go to a comic con much less a PAX in the last twelve years and not see gaggles of gamers wearing those dragon-scale hoodies. I know some lingo, the basics of the game play—but that’s really more because it’s extremely traditional if we’re being honest. I mean, Qethians claim that the series revitalized the western RPG with its complex characters and involved narrative, but I (personally) have never managed to get past the first act. I’ve tried. I really have. But it’s just… well, let’s say boring and leave it at that.

I am here at the Qeth Experience, however, because I know enough to fake it—and because I’m the one member of my work team without a traditional spouse-and-kids sort of life. This makes it relatively easy to take an hour to scope this out. It’s the sort of dedication that makes the client happy, which makes my boss happy, which makes me happy. Sort of.

I usually don’t mind, honestly, but I do wish it weren’t the default, especially in situations like this. Ah, this is kind of geeky, Keira must be obsessed with it. I mean, I would consider myself to be a casual gamer at best, and I have extremely selective tastes, yet my colleagues are all but convinced that I am a step away from joining an esports team and renaming myself something like CryptonicM3nace47. This is either proof of how little they know of gamer culture or evidence of my personal marketing prowess that I’ve convinced them I am a Geek Goddess of All Things. Maybe it’s a little bit of both. And now, that’s coming to bite me on the ass.

“I’m Keira Ogdyn,” I say to the Girl With Clipboard, “with Fandom Solutions? I should be on the list.”

There’s a momentary frown as she examines her tablet, but that evaporates into a broad, authentic smile.

“Yes!” she exclaims. “You’re our VIA of the day!”

“VIA?” I hear the hesitation in my own voice.

“Very Important Adventurer.” Her eyes gleam as she says this. “Erin came by earlier to make sure it was all set up.”

“Aw. I didn’t know she was going to do that.” Erin Hendricks and I have worked together for ten years across three studios (for her) and two firms (for me). We've worked together on some difficult titles over the years. Honestly, she’s the real reason I didn’t make some excuse to get out of this. It's tougher to make the jump from hit video game to hit streaming series than people might think, and her studio has high expectations for this project; I want to help any way I can. Even if it means learning about Qeth. “What does VIA entail?”

My Girl With Clipboard grins broader as she ducks down under the heavy tablecloth and produces an artfully worn brown leather satchel about the size of a laptop briefcase. It has a cross-body shoulder strap, four pockets (two in front and one on each side), and distressed brass finishes. One of the pockets has the stylized Qeth ‘Q’ embossed tastefully on it—if you didn’t know what it was, you wouldn’t know what it was.

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“Swag!” she exclaims.

“Dude.” I don’t know what else to say as she hands it over. It smells like vintage leather and is so soft to the touch it’s almost unreal. It is actually gorgeous, and it’s not empty. “What’s in here?”

“All kinds of things.” Her enthusiasm actually ticks upward. “First of all, there’s a new special edition Incite with matching glasses and, don’t worry, an interface clip option.” Twenty years ago, an Incite was just an e-reader, but now it’s what they call a reality interface device. “It’s necessary for the Experience,” she gestures toward the other devices spread out on the table, “but as a VIA, you get to keep yours. There are also three ‘elixir’ bottles with themed adult beverages, which are really good. The Essence elixir? The, ah, blue one? Drink at room temperature, I promise. Also, a special edition hoodie, a Dragonslayers deck, a pouch of coins from the series, and your choice of ears to further immerse yourself in the Experience.”

She motions at her own prosthetics before pulling out a wooden box that has a variety of smaller boxes in it. Labels in Ye Olde English script account for all of the usual western high fantasy suspects, and little windows show that they come in an array of skin tones. There are various types of elves, as well as pixie, dwarf, faun, ork, half-ork, half-elf, halfling, even goblin.

“Have you been in the Qeth fandom long?” she asks me as I inspect the options.

“I haven’t,” I say, slowly. “I’m consulting on the marketing campaign with Erin, and she thought we could use this to give me an introduction.”

“Oh, well, it’s the perfect way to do that! Though I’ve personally loved Qeth since I was a kid,” she says, which hurts a little… I was in grad school when the first game came out. “I’m so excited for the show. I can’t wait to see where they’re going to go with it. I’ve heard it’s going to be about trying to bring back the dragons?”

“Right. Dragons are killed off at the end of the third game, aren’t they?”

“Yes! Oh my God. When Zendriel sacrifices herself for Kellnor, the player character? I cry every time.”

“Every time?”

“I mean. I have to have played it through a couple dozen times. It’s like my comfort game? I do a stream of it, if you want to take a look?”

“Oh. Maybe. You know, I’ve heard a lot of people criticize the ending,” I say tentatively.

“That’s only because they don’t understand what it’s really about.”

“No?”

“There’s not always a perfect ending. You know? Qeth is all about using the tropes and turning them a little. That’s the one thing I really hope that the show gets right. Well. That. And that if they do bring Zendriel back then she’s a total badass.”

I look at the VIA bag and back to her. “Are they giving you one of these?”

She offers a broad, excited grin. “Erin said she’d make sure I get one. She’s great.”

“Okay. Good.” I’d definitely have given her mine if not. “So, I just go in this way?”

“Yes! But first, ears. Trust me, you do not want to just be a vanilla human.”

“I don’t know…”

“I mean, you can be a vanilla human in your daily life, right? Why not spend an hour as something else? Immerse!”

I sigh and look at the offerings, chewing on the inside of my mouth. I cosplay at Dragon*Con, so it’s not all that foreign to me, but it seems like a level of commitment I’m not sure I’m willing to make. I have to go to Trader Joe’s after this—though, it is LA. I doubt a female thirty-something wearing fantasy ears in the frozen foods section will be the strangest thing anyone will see today.

“What, uhm... What should I do?”

She looks at me critically for a minute, then nods and takes out a pair of elf ears notably longer than her own.

“Hunter elf,” she says as I inspect them. “They’re unique, a good size for you, and I think they’re just about your skin tone. I can help you put them on?”

I hesitate but then nod and take off my glasses. She tucks back my hair to fasten the prosthetics to my ears. They aren’t just ear-tips but include a lobe too, so they stay on quite well despite how long they are; a couple dabs of prosthetic glue just cement them.

“These will come off, right?” I ask, pinching them in place as instructed for the glue to dry. “I’m not going to be an elf for the rest of the day, am I?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t put much on.”

“I would love to see you talk some of the executives into these.”

“Oh, I already have.” She smiles conspiratorially, and I don’t doubt her for a minute. “Okay, your first stop is the tavern. You’ll see a bunch of costumes and props from the series, some selfie ops, and Moira will give you your beverage of choice—go for the lavender one, it’s like a mule but with honeysuckle, and it’s a lot better than you think it’ll be. You’re VIA, so you keep the mug. Then, your Incite will prompt you with about five minutes of basic character creation before you enter the Experience itself. Just make sure to attach the interface clips on your glasses so you can use your prescription lenses. It’s the only way to see the creatures and characters in the city and keep track of your stats.”

“City?”

“Oh, they’ve done a whole thing. It’s really cool.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll see for myself. Sorry, what was your name?”

“Tasha. Come tell me how it went when you come out.”

“Promise.” I do my best to match her smile and slip the bag over my shoulder. It lands against my hip as if it belongs there. I kind of do love it, and it alone may be a reason to finish playing the damn game so I don’t feel like a complete poser when I show it off at PAX-East this year.

At Tasha’s direction I step past the velvet ropes and follow the remaining couple of dragon tracks to the door. It is done up how I imagine a medieval tavern’s would be: thick, rough wood with large metal hinges and other hardware. There’s even a small blown glass window behind three metal bars that reflects fire light from inside. It’s a nice touch.

I glance back at Tasha, who is reorganizing the ears box, and sigh, wondering what I’m about to get myself into. I just hope it doesn’t make me motion sick.