What can I say about PAX Australia 2026 except that it was a record-breaker. With 90,000-plus people showing up, this event was something unlike anything else I’ve had in previous PAX visits, and I loved every moment of it. It didn’t just feel bigger; it felt fuller, somehow. Like the whole place had stretched to fit the sheer amount of excitement people brought with them. Every aisle had a crowd, every booth had someone smiling or explaining something, and every time I thought I’d seen everything, I’d turn a corner and realise I hadn’t even scratched the surface.
And the indies… honestly, they continue to be one of the most impressive parts of PAX. Even with the show expanding and shifting, they still manage to carve out these pockets of creativity that stop you mid‑stride. I kept wandering into booths “just for a minute,” only to lose twenty minutes because some mechanic or art style hooked me. There’s something special about seeing developers who poured everything into their games standing there, talking to players face‑to‑face. You can feel the passion in the way they describe their worlds, their characters, even the tiny details you wouldn’t notice unless they pointed them out.
I could go on about them, and I probably will, but you’ll have to wait for Kelly’s Top 10 list to hear more about that. She has a knack for finding the gems I somehow miss, and honestly, I trust her taste more than my own when it comes to indie discoveries. So I’ll leave the spotlight to her for now, even though I’m itching to talk about a few standouts.
PAX just had that feeling this year. Bigger, brighter, more alive, but still grounded in the things that make it special: the people, the passion, and the games that surprise you when you least expect it.
The Friday Night Pauper Tournament – My Redemption Arc (Sort Of)
Friday night was the Pauper tournament, which has kind of become a tradition for me after Gavin Verhey’s event last year. If you read my 2025 coverage, you’ll remember I went 0–4 with a deck so bad it probably shouldn’t have been sleeved. It was a joke deck, something I built mostly to annoy my best mate, and it did that job perfectly. Winning games, though… not so much.
This year I actually put effort in. I built a white weenie deck and tried to convince myself it would at least keep me from coming dead last again. I don’t know if I believed it, but it felt good to pretend.
The tournament kicked off at 6 pm, and the moment I walked in I realised things were different. Last year had maybe twenty players. This year? Seventy‑five. Seventy‑five people playing Pauper. I froze a little. I’ve played Pauper maybe eight times total, and this deck was completely untested. Freaking out might be an understatement. I think I even said out loud, “Oh no,” which didn’t help my confidence.
My first match was against… my own deck. Not literally, but close enough. Same archetype, same strategy, just a handful of different card choices. It turned into a weenie battle to the death. Game three was tight, but I got mana screwed and lost 2–1. Not the start I wanted.
Match two… honestly, let’s not talk about it. It was a bloodbath. He rolled me so hard I barely remember the details. He went on to finish 4–0, so I guess I was doomed from the start.
The next two matches were where everything changed. Match three was against a mill deck that was genuinely incredible. I actually won my first ever match in a tournament. One of the games ended with me having exactly one card left in my library. I didn’t breathe for the last few turns. It was terrifying and amazing at the same time.
By that point, I’d already beaten last year’s record. I wasn’t dead last. That alone felt like a win.
But then came the final match, and it ended up being the best one of the night. My opponent was an amazing Pauper player named Jordan, and she was unbelievably lovely. Her blue deck was confusing in that classic blue‑magic way, and she was so patient with me when I had to reread cards or double‑check interactions. We played three really tight games, and somehow, I still don’t fully understand how I took the win.
2–2. My first ever positive‑feeling finish. I walked out of that room buzzing. It genuinely made my PAX Australia. I’ve never done so well, and even though it wasn’t some big competitive victory, it felt huge to me.
Coming Home to the People Who Make PAX What It Is
PAX Australia always feels a little like coming home. Not literally, but in that familiar emotional way where you walk through the doors and suddenly you’re surrounded by people who make the whole gaming world feel smaller and friendlier. I wish I could list every friend I caught up with, and honestly just as many I didn’t manage to find. The place is huge now, big enough that missing someone is almost guaranteed, but it still catches you off guard when you realise you somehow didn’t cross paths even once.
I kept running into familiar faces like Doomcutie, Asylum, Liessshy, Bebe, Hex, Huddo and a bunch of others I’m probably forgetting as I write this. And then there were the new friends, Wolfcry Gaming, Nate I Reckon, Gemma Driscoll, to name a few people I didn’t expect to meet but ended up spending real time with. It’s funny how quickly new friendships form at PAX. One minute you’re just chatting in a queue or standing around waiting for a meetup to start, and the next minute you’re making plans for next year.
There’s something magical about being all together, even if you don’t actually see everyone you meant to. Maybe it’s the shared excitement, or maybe it’s just knowing that for three days, the entire building is full of people who get it. People who care about the same weird niche things you do, and who light up when they talk about them.
I made some amazing new friends this year, and seeing newer ones again added this nice sense of continuity. The circle keeps widening, but it never loses its shape. Even the people I missed, and there were plenty (Sorry to all of you), still felt present somehow. That’s the strange part. You can feel connected to people you didn’t even see.
Confessions of a Gamer Girl – My First COAGG Meetup
Another standout was the Confessions of a Gamer Girl podcast meetup. I’d never been to any of the community meetups before, so I wasn’t entirely sure what I was walking into. There’s always that tiny moment of hesitation where you wonder if you’ll fit in or if you’ll just end up awkwardly hovering near the exit at the back of the room. But Doomcutie and Kate led everything with that mix of confidence and friendliness that makes you feel like you’ve known them longer than you actually have. They have this way of making a room feel warm without trying too hard.
Even one of the ex‑hosts, Elle, showed up, which was such a nice surprise. There’s something comforting about seeing familiar faces from older episodes still around, still supporting what they helped build. The podcast has grown into this genuinely meaningful space, a female‑empowerment show that gives gamers, especially women and non‑binary folks, a place to feel heard and safe. You could feel that energy in the room. It wasn’t loud or dramatic, just steady and reassuring.
We kicked things off with a quiz. I didn’t win. I really wanted the prize of the press‑on nails, but alas, no. I’ll have to stay without pretty nails for a little while longer. I thought I knew a lot about the podcast; honestly, I went in feeling pretty confident, and apparently I didn’t know quite as much as I believed. It was humbling in a funny way. The quiz itself was such a clever idea, though. It made the whole meetup feel more interactive, more personal, and it even highlighted just how much the podcast has achieved over the past few years. You could see people smiling at questions they recognised, or laughing when they realised they’d forgotten something obvious.
After the quiz, we all just sat around and chatted. Nothing rushed, nothing overly structured. It was relaxed and surprisingly informative. The kind of conversation where you learn things without realising you’re learning them. I walked away feeling like I’d been part of something small but meaningful. It’s hard to explain, but it felt like a safe corner of the convention where everyone could just be themselves for a bit. No pressure, no noise, just people connecting over something they genuinely love.
If you’ve never listened to the podcast, strap yourself in. There are 232 episodes waiting for you, and that’s not even counting the bonus bits scattered around. It’s a lot, but in a good way- the kind of “a lot” you settle into like a long TV series you know will keep you company for weeks. So strap in for an amazing ride.
The Blizzard Meetup That Turned Into a Whole Adventure
One of the highlights for me, and honestly something I’d been looking forward to for weeks, was the Blizzard meetup hosted by Logan and PandaTV. They’re friends, or at least I think of them that way, even if they didn’t call my raffle number. I wanted one of those Alliance hats so badly. Still love you both, even if you betrayed me publicly and made me cry. Ha ha.
The meetup had this warm, slightly chaotic energy that’s hard to describe unless you were there. People were buzzing about all things Blizzard, swapping stories, comparing mains, even inviting each other to guilds. I somehow got invited to a more active guild without even trying, which was funny because I wasn’t expecting any kind of recruitment drive. And underneath all that excitement, there was this strange tension in the air; everyone trying not to look too excited because we’d been told there might be “special guests.” Watching a room full of people pretend to be calm when they absolutely weren’t is its own kind of entertainment.
Then the WoW Forever execs, Holly Longdale and Clay Stone, arrived, and everything shifted instantly. You could feel the air tighten, like the whole room collectively forgot how to behave. We all stayed calm, though. Impressively calm, considering half the room looked like they were ready to sprint toward them and attack‑hug them both… or maybe that was just me. Hard to tell in the moment.
If the rumours are true, and I’m not saying they are, but a little birdie at the event whispered it, they slipped their handlers just to come meet us at the community meetup. I’m convinced the only reason we didn’t accidentally mob them was that PandaTV, a scary but lovable tattooed man, told us not to bum rush them or else. I believed him. Everyone believed him. So we behaved.
I still got to shake their hand and say thank you. It was quick, but it stuck with me. One of those tiny moments that ends up feeling bigger than it probably should. And honestly, I was blown away by how much attention and time Holly and Clay gave everyone they spoke to. It wasn’t just a “show your face and leave” kind of appearance. They genuinely seemed engaged with every person they talked to, listening, laughing, answering questions, taking photos. It felt personal in a way I wasn’t expecting.
Walking away from that meetup, I had that warm, jittery feeling you get when something small ends up meaning a lot. It wasn’t just meeting developers or execs; it was being part of a community moment that felt special, even if it only lasted an hour.
A Calmer, Less Chaotic PAX — And Honestly, I Loved It
Something about PAX Australia 2026 felt calmer this year, and I don’t mean quiet, PAX is never quiet, but the energy was different. Softer around the edges. I kept noticing it in small ways. No giant brands blasting music every fifteen minutes. No staff yelling into microphones trying to whip a crowd into a frenzy so they could throw merch at them. I didn’t realise how much that shaped the atmosphere until it wasn’t happening. It made the whole place feel more relaxed, almost like PAX finally found a comfortable rhythm.
The big names were still around, of course. Aftershock, Thermaltake, SEGA, Nintendo, Govee, PowerA, all present, all doing their thing, but without that overwhelming “look at me” energy. It felt more like they were part of the show rather than trying to dominate it. And strangely, a lot of the usual suspects were missing. I kept walking past spots where I expected certain booths to be, only to find something completely different. It wasn’t disappointing, just… unexpected.
But that absence created space. Real space. Enough that new brands could step in and actually shine.
Seeing Lexus at PAX was surreal. I walked past their booth three times, trying to figure out how a luxury car brand ended up at a gaming convention. It didn’t feel out of place, though. As a kitted out Lexus Hatchback that I want to own was there, flagged by some racing sim. If anything, it added this odd sophistication to the hall.
Then there were the keyboard companies, Keychron, MCHOSE, Qwertykeys, all showing off boards that made me question my financial stability. I spent way too long tapping keys just to hear the sound. There’s something hypnotic about it, and I’m not sure that’s healthy. But with Ben’s recent trip to Japan, expect to see many of them on DezDoes.com soon.
Turtle Beach had one of the most unexpectedly fun booths. Those Hawaiian shirts… I don’t know who approved them, but they were perfect. Loud, ridiculous, and somehow exactly right for PAX. I wanted to steal one. I didn’t, obviously, but the thought crossed my mind more than once. They showed off their latest products and the line was nothing short of special. Turtle Beach is really starting to push the envelope when it comes to their new product, and I love seeing it.
And then there was the WoW Forever booth. I don’t even know how to describe the feeling it gave me. Happiness, I guess. A kind of warm excitement that hit me the moment I walked up to it. Maybe it was the design and seeing the full WoW Forever map above us, maybe it was the people, maybe it was just me being a giant WoW nerd. The two cosplayers they had there were incredible, confident, friendly, and so committed to the characters that it made the whole booth feel alive. So much so that I even took a photo with them, and I never take photos of me. I kept drifting back there without meaning to, like it had its own gravity.
The whole show felt more open, more breathable. Less frantic. It was still PAX, still loud, still crowded, still full of things to see, but it didn’t feel like you were constantly being pulled in ten directions at once or blocked by screaming fans or hit with merch being thrown. I think I needed that. A PAX that let you wander without feeling like you were missing something every second.
It felt like the convention grew up a little this year. Or maybe I did. Hard to tell, yet I doubt it was me that grew up!
PAX Spilling Out Into Melbourne — Bigger Than Jeff’s Shed
PAX getting bigger isn’t exactly a surprise anymore, but this year it felt like it finally outgrew Jeff’s shed in a way you could actually feel. Every inch of the convention centre was used, every hallway, every corner, every weird little nook that normally sits empty. And even then, it wasn’t enough. The event just kept expanding outward, like it had too much energy to stay contained.
Outside the main halls, meetups were happening everywhere. Fallout fans gathered in full costume, looking like they’d stepped straight out of the Wasteland. Streamers held their own community catch‑ups scattered around the precinct. And then there was the ANZ Creator Meetup, the one I missed because I was stuck in a brand meeting. I’m still annoyed about that. It’s strange how you can be at PAX, physically present, and still miss something happening just a few minutes away. The whole weekend felt like a maze of overlapping events, and you could only ever be in one place at a time.
Even down on the Crown promenade, PAX energy was alive and loud. Valorant had set up a massive outdoor marquee to show off their move into the console space, and it became this unexpected hotspot every night after PAX closed its doors. People flocked to it like it was a second convention. The lines were ridiculous, hours long just to get a free code or try the game on PS5. It looked like a theme park queue, except everyone was wearing PAX badges and half of them were still buzzing from the day.
I got lucky and knew a guy, so I didn’t have to wait an hour. But that’s pretty much where my luck ended. I didn’t get a free code. Those carnival‑style games they used to hand them out were way too hard for my old reflexes.
And wow… I sucked at Valorant. I think FPS titles might not be for me anymore. The poor girl I was paired with, pulled off some genuinely impressive plays and probably could have carried most people there. I was just trying not to embarrass myself too badly. I failed at that, but honestly? I had so much fun.
There was something strangely freeing about being terrible at a game and still enjoying it. I walked away laughing at myself, and weirdly wanting to play more. Maybe that’s the magic of PAX, you try things you wouldn’t normally try, you fail spectacularly, and somehow it still becomes one of your favourite memories of the weekend.
The whole city felt like it was humming with PAX energy. Even when you stepped outside the convention centre, you weren’t really leaving the event. It followed you, into meetups, onto the promenade, into random conversations with strangers wearing badges in line for burgers. PAX wasn’t just inside Jeff’s shed this year. It was everywhere. And I love it.
Final Thoughts
Walking out of PAX Australia 2026, I had that familiar mix of exhaustion and quiet happiness that always hits me at the end of the weekend. It’s strange how three days can feel both long and impossibly short. I kept thinking about all the things I saw, all the people I met, and even the things I missed. Somehow it all blends together into this big, messy, wonderful memory that sticks around longer than you expect.
This year felt different, calmer, more open, maybe even a little more grown‑up, but still unmistakably PAX. The kind of event where you can lose yourself in a crowd and still feel like you belong there. I don’t know if it was the new brands, or the quieter show floor, or just me having a better year, but something about it clicked in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
The Pauper tournament, the meetups, the Blizzard chaos, the WoW Forever booth that basically stole my heart, the friends old and new… it all added up to a PAX that felt personal. Not perfect, not polished, but real. The kind of experience you carry with you for a while, even after the badge is tucked away and your feet finally stop hurting.
I’m already thinking about next year. I don’t know what it’ll look like; PAX changes every time, but if it gives me even half of what this year did, I’ll be happy. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll even win that Alliance hat.
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