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The cosplay Wrangler walked to the center of the meeting room. “Okay, anyone Worry it’s here? she asked. She was surrounded by fairies and monsters, a Batman, a Snow White, a super-soldier with beetlejuice and huge guns on their shoulders, the barrels dangling over their heads. They were on the fourth floor of McCormick Place on Saturday night, Get ready for the Cosplay Central Crown Championships, one of the key events at C2E2, Chicago’s largest comic-con. It’s a well-crafted, intense, goofy international competition. Say what you will about the World Series, Cosplay Central Crown Championships There are actually contestants from all over the world.
The room fell silent.
“I mean,” continued the Wrangler, “is anyone worried about getting on stage?”
This is a fair question. Cosplay – in case you didn’t realize it – is an amateur look, paired with some method cosplay. Some costumes take hundreds of hours and thousands of dollars to create.hardcore cosplayer makes everything. The less determined turned to Amazon. Now in its 10th year, the Cosplay Central Crown Championships is like a reality show, a crafting competition, a sporting event, and a public performance audition, all rolled into one.Imagine a cake competition, but people yes cakes, and they often move around with great care. Competitors from Spain wore gorgeous homemade gowns that would be approved by the British royal family. A man’s “Fantastic Four” arms stretched several feet in front of him. Beetlejuice walks slowly, making sure the carousel above him doesn’t collapse. The Demogorgon from Stranger Things, with its head splayed like a deadly flower, is long and thin, and the stairs are its kryptonite. Urbana’s Sara Jones is dressed as the satyr from Dungeons & Dragons in a wooden floral headpiece large enough to be the perfect Thanksgiving table centerpiece.
“I don’t have peripheral vision,” she moaned, her face hidden behind the black fabric.
Among them, waiting to start is Stephanie Sloan of Bloomington, Indiana. In the evening, she won the regional competition, the national competition, Then, For the hat-trick, the international contest. Her prizes include $6,000, a real crown and a trip to London, and she’s been invited to be a cosplay judge. Her costume is so clever and subtle, I’ll let you read on for all the details, but in short: she plays Aloy, the hero of a video game called Horizon Zero Dawn, draped in natural fibers, layers Layered with many colors and details, captured through traditional basket weaving techniques, it looks both industrial and pre-industrial, with a touch of Aztec intricacy and a nod to Native American tribal attire. Think post-apocalyptic Fat Tuesday.
Slone hasn’t been playing role-playing for very long. She started in 2018 and only got serious during the pandemic, learning about the bottomless role-playing ecosystem through online isolation. At the age of 32, she felt that it was too late for cosplay, but she also felt that she still had a chance. The next day, she described no mean or competitive personality about herself, but once she learned she had been accepted, she made a spreadsheet of her competition – which, she insists, was not about gaining a competitive edge . Still, a longing set in when she walked into that conference room full of role-players: “Like I told my husband, you don’t want to admit to what your heart wants because when it doesn’t come true It’s going to hurt. But right then, I felt like it was possible.”
There are a few ways to gauge the health of a comic book convention. Christina Rogers, Vice President of Comic Book Events at ReedPOP, the Connecticut conference producer behind C2E2, Star Wars Celebration, and New York Comic-Con, said C2E2 “this time, for me, was like step back. Finally—finally. That means that while ReedPOP held just one C2E2 before the 2020 pandemic shut down the country, they’ve since held three C2E2s in McCormick in the last 15 months to keep some momentum going. The first two This time attendance was down. But this time, “it felt like we were back where we were,” Rodgers said. “The energy was there, the name was there. People come out. Three-day passes were sold out; Saturday itself was completely sold out. Weekend attendance was 75,000, the largest the 13-year-old comic-con has seen in some time.
Chris “Captain America” Evans makes an appearance. The cast of Star Wars: The Clone Wars was there. Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s boyfriend is out. The exhibition hall is sometimes crowded with people, dazzling. Collectors hunted down Radio Flyer vans loaded with comics and Funko Pop figures in the back. The dense archives of old-fashioned comics are packed with fans, tossing, turning, and turning. There were numerous panel discussions on horror writing, as well as a panel discussion on the mental health needs of fanboys, and multiple conversations about LGBTQ+ representation in genre fiction. A Wonder Woman sits on the floor next to a rib cart, her jaw open wearily, her eyes smiling in joyful shock.Even the security guards, as of Saturday afternoon, were always eager oh no Toy swords or realistic hand grenades, confiscated (real) pepper spray and nail clippers.
But arguably the best indicator of the health of Comic-Con is how rich the cosplay is.
Yo! kite man! Hell yes!
That’s Spider-Man’s shout-out to Kite-Man, the deeply rooted Batman villain. (There are lots of Spider-Men, just a few Kite-Men.) The Holloway family of Appleton, Wisconsin, waited in the elevator dressed in the costumes of the “Nightmare Before Christmas” cast. Ed Saco, 63, from Memphis, plays Speed Racer, who drives a mobility scooter past Plainfield’s Steven Moreno, who Assembled a costume from shoelaces and cardboard.
Maggie Hofmann, director of costume technology at DePaul University’s School of Drama, a former cosplayer and veteran of C2E2, said: “I’ve been in it a lot, and somehow, despite the pandemic, it feels like Still that big—maybe a little bit bigger or bigger.”
Another measure: Hoffman and students in her department sit behind card tables all day, offering free cosplay repairs. “Since 10:00 am, there’s been a long queue.” The foreign fungus needs to fix the zippers. A Spider-Woman from Bolingbrook needed the fingertips off her suit so she could use her phone. A student in a maid outfit (and an animal tail) asks a man with a pyramid on his head: “Need help?”
Pyramid nodded. He needs glue and safety pins.
A few booths away, an employee of Harrison Design & Concepts glues together alien technology—a Chicago-based manufacturing facility that does half its business with cosplayers and the other half with TV and film production. The helmet was polished. A sword made with a 3D printer needs adhesives. Wigs too. Thread work wanting to unwind after a day of cosplay. Faux metal armor has been a trend for years, Hoffman said. But that has given way to needlework, which means cosplay is now more feminine than ever.
In fact, at least two-thirds of the participants in the cosplay tournament are women. Not a lot of trash talk, at least in the background. Hannah Gootzeit from Minnesota, wearing orange paint to play Ahsoka Tano in “Star Wars,” smiled at her mother, saying: “I don’t think I have a good chance. I mean, the level of detail…”
Gabriela Wozniak, whose face was painted with thick lines to look like an animated character, has never competed outside of her native Poland: “I’m scared. I feel like there’s something in this room Everyone here will win this competition.” Alisyuon, a contestant from Spain, stood beneath jewels, crystals, a crown and a hoop skirt, which was removed to reveal a second, action-centric skirt. Latvia’s Valerie Jelnikova watches Alisyuon across a table. “I actually feel bad about what I’m wearing when I come here and see a much better outfit. But seriously, I wish everyone here success.”
In front of an audience of thousands, they walk across the stage one by one in front of the judges. Two of the judges are regulars at the cosplay scene; two are professional costume and prop makers from Toronto. They look for attention to detail, impeccable sewing and fresh ideas. Regional competitions are followed by winners of other comic con across the country, who are paired to compete against international winners. “When we get to the end,” said judge Robin Carles, who has had props in “Boys” and “Suicide Squad,” said “you can put these things in a movie and nothing changes.”
To take the stage, contestants learned wire welding, leatherworking and carving. Some contacted the creators of the characters they played. They use buffalo leather and kimono silk, beads, denim and kilts. They wear small pagodas on their heads.Some are distressed that their costumes are impeccable, and they imitate convincingly FrostJudge Ian Campbell said that one entrant from the UK had come up with a “method of electroplating with non-conductive materials, which is practically impossible”.
Winning regional, national and global everything, Slone has captured an ancient, far-reaching folk art with breastplates and headdresses reminiscent of feathers and shells. She plays video games endlessly with her characters, researching and studying how to physically capture clothes. Using wood for her capes, she uses irises from her own backyard, which she then soaks and preserves to create a vibrant look. She embalmed eucalyptus leaves and wove them into mosaics. She said carelessly, after all, her costume was too good to be faulted. She even uses jumbled threads to suggest that the character, a fighter, isn’t the best weaver.
Slone looked devastated when she won.
Her face contorted. Her husband cried. The Latvian contestant rushed up and shouted, “I knew you’d win!” Then the Michael Jordan of the cosplay world, a nobody from Indiana, lifted a makeshift bow above his head and smiled.
cborrelli@chicagotribune.com
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