Welcome Home: My PAX Aus 2026 Experience

Welcome Home

“Welcome Home.”

It's something you'll hear a lot at PAX Australia. To anyone who hasn't been, it might sound like an ordinary greeting. But those of us who've experienced PAX know it means a little more.

It's where you catch up with people you haven't seen in ages, finally meet friends you've only spoken to through a headset or a screen, and find yourself amongst thousands of people who share at least a little of the same passion you do. You can walk into an enormous crowd and somehow feel like you belong.

That's what PAX has always been for me. A little like coming home to family, albeit a family with more cosplay, more gaming PCs and considerably less personal space.

PAX Aus 2026 was special for two big reasons. After years of attending as a general attendee and content creator, I was attending as a special guest and co-hosting two Aus Indie Showcase winner panels with Jim, @thenogoodgame. And I was bringing my eleven-year-old son, Blake, to his first PAX.

I can only speak from my own experiences, but I've been fortunate enough to never have a genuinely negative experience at PAX. Of course, there have been the occasional minor frustrations or inconveniences, but nothing I wouldn't expect at any other large event. Nothing that I would consider a reflection of PAX itself. I know that not everyone will have had the same experience, but for me, PAX has consistently been an incredibly positive one.

The annual ritual

The build-up felt familiar: researching exhibitors, poring over the indie lineup, choosing panels, contacting people I wanted to see and creating a schedule that looked impressively organised right up until the moment PAX actually started.

We flew into Melbourne early Thursday, settled into our usual hotel across from the convention centre and went straight over to collect our badges. The quieter afternoon was perfect for introducing Blake to the layout before the Friday crowds arrived. We examined the PAXland map, worked out the general shape of the venue and met friends and family for dinner.

Then came the extremely important task of trying to sleep while being far too excited to sleep.

Friday morning, the crowds were already buzzing. I headed for the media entry; Blake joined his uncle for the opening countdown. And once I got into the Expo Hall, I did exactly what anyone who knows my content would expect.

I made a beeline for PAX Rising. No surprises there.

The people behind the indie games

PAX Rising is always one of the first places I want to explore, and for good reason. I love playing and reviewing Australian indie games, but I love meeting the people who make them just as much. There's something special about getting to speak directly with developers, hearing the thought process behind their ideas, seeing their enthusiasm firsthand and discovering the sometimes completely unexpected stories behind the games they've created.

It's one of my favourite parts of PAX, and something I look forward to every year.

I had five standout booth experiences this year: X300, Pie in the Sky, Dungeon Pizza, Toya and Dungeons and Dining Tables. Not my definitive five favourite games—just five experiences that stayed with me.

The X300 team dressed in lab coats and had themed merchandise and thoughtful creator packs. They were also generous with their time. Dungeon Pizza looked colourful and polished, with a lovely team I was already familiar with from playing the game before PAX. Toya had squishy cubes inspired by its playable character, and a team that made visitors feel right at home. At Dungeons and Dining Tables, an axolotl plushie made the very sensible decision to come home with us.

And Pie in the Sky? It's a wonderfully ridiculous game in which you're a magpie who, among other things, sh*ts on people. Its developer, Mark, was a down-to-earth, hilarious person to chat with. What more could you ask for?

The developers I met weren't just pitching games. They were sharing things they'd poured time and energy into, and the pride was obvious. More than once I heard the equivalent of, “Here's what I'm making—but have you seen their game? It's fantastic!”

That generosity towards one another is a huge part of what I admire about the local indie scene.

Friday night: the panel I'd spent months thinking about

Jim and I put a significant amount of work into hosting our two panels. We'd spoken one-on-one with panellists, researched their games, built slides and prepared questions. We wanted the developers to feel comfortable and to know that we were taking the responsibility seriously.

For months, I'd had those good nerves. Excited. Confident I could probably do it. Still very aware that I'd never actually hosted a PAX panel before.

Late Friday afternoon I went back to the hotel to get out of the crowds, drink something and make sure I had what I needed. When we got to the Dropbear Theatre, finding it proved a bit more complicated for some panellists than a flat map made it look. Turns out stairs and levels are hard to explain in two dimensions.

But everyone got there, and then I saw the queue.

The theatre line was full before the doors opened. There were that many people interested in hearing about Australian indie games.

I won't pretend there wasn't a little personal relief in seeing we weren't about to speak to an empty room. Of course there was! But more importantly, I was thrilled for the developers. They'd earned their place in the Aus Indie Showcase, and here was an audience keen to hear their stories.

When the panel started, everything clicked. The conversations were genuine, the audience laughed and listened, and the developers had a wonderful rapport with each other. There were stories about grammar corrections in games and the slightly awkward job of explaining to attendees that no, they couldn't take home a card from a developer's only tabletop prototype.

Jim and I had been friends and gaming together for years. That trust made it easy to work with one another, bounce off each other and make decisions as we went. Near the end, we realised we had more questions than time and combined the important ones so everyone could still contribute. We finished almost exactly on schedule.

I was proud of that. Proud of the preparation, the teamwork and the way we gave the developers room to speak.

Afterwards, people told us they'd enjoyed the panel and, even better, that they now wanted to go and play the games. That's the point of the work I love doing: helping connect players with developers who deserve to be discovered.

Walking off that stage, I felt relieved, completely exhausted and incredibly happy. I'd gone in believing I could host a panel. Now we had actually done it—and felt we had done it well.

Burgers, Instagram and a terrible sleep schedule

Only after the panel did I realise I'd barely eaten all day. I think I'd had a few rice crackers and survived mostly on adrenaline and OxyShred energy drinks. An approach I do not recommend.

Seriously: eat. Pack snacks. Drink water. Put a meal break in your calendar if you have to. You can get so caught up in PAX that you forget basic human maintenance.

Our group found a burger place across the road and finally got something substantial. Back at the hotel, Blake went to bed and I stayed up editing Instagram content until about 2 am.

I like posting while PAX is still happening. A developer clip on Friday night might make somebody think, “Oh, I didn't know that was here—I'll visit tomorrow.” If that happens, the late-night work is worth it.

Though some sleep probably would have been worth it too.

Saturday: the Grim Reaper lasts five minutes

Saturday started a little later, thankfully, and Blake was ready for his first full day in cosplay. His choice? The Grim Reaper.

About five minutes after entering the hall, he informed me he was too hot.

Five. Minutes.

Luckily, I had packed spare clothes and had a backup backpack available. Because you don't tell a child not to cosplay when they're excited about it. You simply prepare for the very predictable moment they decide the costume is absolutely unbearable.

The Grim Reaper retired. The axolotl plushie, however, became a permanent member of our party. It went to restaurants, into the hotel, into bed and everywhere else we travelled that weekend. I suspect Mr Axolotl saw more of PAX than some attendees did.

Blake interviews his favourite developers

Back at PAX Rising, I was recording more of my ongoing Poorly Explain Your Game series, where I ask developers to describe their games as terribly as possible. I love a good elevator pitch, but sometimes the funniest, strangest explanation is the one that gets people interested.

Blake had also decided to attempt a little content creation of his own. He makes gaming videos in a supervised environment at home and wanted to try interviewing developers.

Jim and I helped him prepare and encouraged him as he spoke with the teams behind X300 and Dungeon Pizza, games he'd already played.

You can watch Blake's Instagram interviews here: X300 and Dungeon Pizza.

He was nervous. You could see it as he read his questions. And I was so appreciative of how patiently and kindly the developers responded. They listened, gave him time, answered properly and treated him like someone whose questions mattered.

He came away proud, excited and absolutely finished with interviews for this PAX. He'd also like to do more next year, apparently. So it wasn't too traumatic.

His personal indie favourites included Dungeons and Dining Tables, Dungeon Pizza, X300, Batography and especially Toya. Honestly, if we'd left him with Ru at the Toya booth, I think he'd still be there.

Mission Loserfruit

Saturday also included a very important appointment: Blake wanted to see Loserfruit at the eBay booth. He loves Fortnite. There was no question this was a priority.

Unfortunately, it clashed with the Confessions of a Gamer Girl community meetup I needed to attend. So Uncle Dave stepped in.

And the mission was a complete success.

Blake didn't just see Loserfruit. He met her, got a photo and had his PAX badge signed. He was ecstatic. He'd interviewed developers, played indie games and met someone he admired. As far as he was concerned, his first PAX couldn't possibly get better.

I loved that Uncle Dave got to be there with him for that moment. They'd made their own memory while I was off making mine.

Old friends, new faces and a little Kahoot

Meanwhile, I'd dragged Jim to the Confessions of a Gamer Girl meetup, as I dragged him to approximately everything that weekend.

On the way we ran into Jaz and Amu from 3BG, good Aussie mates we've known for years. We also finally met Gummy from Gummy Bear Gaming, who'd travelled from America with her daughter Ginger. After knowing people through online communities, it's genuinely lovely to have those conversations in person.

At the meetup, I caught up with fellow host Doom Cutie and a full room of familiar faces and newcomers. We played a Kahoot quiz about the podcast, gave away a few prizes and had time to mingle. It wasn't complicated or overly formal. It was people enjoying one another's company.

That's one of the things PAX does best.

Four-day PAX. Hear me out.

The rest of Saturday was spent wandering, trying a little tabletop gaming, looking at the speedrunning stage, browsing shops, finding friends and drinking—well, Blake was drinking what felt like the entire supply of bubble tea in Victoria.

Every year I build a schedule that looks manageable. Every year there are so many panels, games and people that it falls apart. So I'm officially lobbying for four-day PAX.

Kitty, I know. I can hear the response already.

And yes, if it ran four days, I'd still miss things. You could make PAX a year long and I'd probably still be trying to squeeze another activity in. Nobody would have jobs and we'd all be broke, but we'd make it work. Right?

Round two: a little more confidence

Saturday evening meant the second Aus Indie Showcase panel, From Submission to Showcase: The Indie Journey. We'd learned to give clearer directions to the theatre, and once again the room was at capacity. People were even waiting outside hoping someone would leave and a spot would open.

I was still nervous, but different nervous. I'd done it before now. I knew how naturally Jim and I worked together and how much I enjoyed hearing the developers talk.

The second group was every bit as funny, engaging and thoughtful as the first. The audience laughed, listened and seemed genuinely invested. We wrapped up on time again, and the feedback was encouraging: people had enjoyed themselves and wanted to discover the games.

I didn't just survive hosting a second panel. I really enjoyed it.

And when I think about the whole weekend, I genuinely believe those two evenings were among the highlights of my life. The preparation, the teamwork, the developers, the audience, the feeling of helping promote Australian indie games—it all came together.

I'd love to keep hosting the showcase winners for years to come.

Into The Dark Room

But Saturday wasn't over. Our annual tradition is to see John Robertson's The Dark Room, so straight from our panel we went to the queue.

I've seen The Dark Room five times. And I've also never seen it.

That sounds ridiculous, but it's true. It's an interactive text-adventure comedy show, and Robertson's lightning-fast reactions to whatever the audience throws at him mean no two performances feel the same. Every time is something new, and every time I laugh.

After two panels, all I wanted was a comfortable seat and the opportunity to enjoy somebody else being on stage. It was exactly what I needed. Later there was McDonald's, a hotel bed and one more attempt to get enough sleep.

Sunday: please don't make me leave

In previous years, a Sunday flight home felt fine. I'd done enough. I was tired and ready.

This year, I wanted another full day. There were developers I'd missed, games I hadn't played and conversations I still wanted to have. That afternoon flight felt deeply inconvenient. See? Four-day PAX. I'm making a case here.

We checked out, left our bags at the hotel and headed over for the 10 am opening. Naturally, Blake found more boba tea.

At last we visited Classic Gaming in the Magpie Room, where old computers, consoles and pinball machines gave us a little trip through gaming history. Blake got to play on machines older than he was. I got to stare longingly at consoles I have wanted for years and still haven't managed to collect.

Then we went downstairs for one last lap. A few final goodbyes to developers. One last look at the hall. That familiar feeling creeping in that something you'd looked forward to for months was almost over.

Back at the hotel, we attempted the delicate art of fitting all our newly acquired merchandise into suitcases without going over the airline's weight limit. Somehow we succeeded.

At Melbourne Airport there was lunch and, apparently, Blake's 754th boba tea. Then home.

We walked in, dropped the suitcases and promptly ran out of energy. Except Blake, who somehow found enough strength to unpack and arrange all his new gaming accessories before crashing too.

Until next time

What made 2026 special wasn't just the games or the panels, although I loved both. It was watching Blake discover a community I care about. It was the generosity of developers who gave him their time. It was meeting friends from across Australia and overseas. It was sharing a stage with Jim and finding out how much I loved doing it.

Years ago I began attending PAX because I loved games. I still do. But now it also feels like a place where I can contribute to an industry I care about and celebrate people whose creativity deserves to be seen.

I left Melbourne exhausted, with sore feet, too much merchandise and far too many things still on my schedule. I also left fulfilled, proud and already thinking about next year.

The convention lasts three days. The friendships and memories last a lot longer.

And when we return, I know exactly what we'll hear.

Welcome Home.

Companion reading: PAX Aus 2026 Review | Schrödinger's Cat Burglar review