Trikoot

You wore the perfect gear. You’re standing at the epicenter of the scene. Maybe it’s Folsom Europe, Gearblast EU, or any of the other major events. The music is pounding, the lights are flawless, the energy is everything you imagined. Rationally, this should be the pinnacle: the moment all the hours of prep, the money spent, the anticipation were building toward.

And yet, somewhere inside, there’s a gap. A quiet emptiness that no amount of hooded S10’s or Alpinestars boots seem to fill. You catch yourself wondering: Why don’t I feel the way I thought I would? Why does it look perfect from the outside, but feel hollow on the inside?

I know, because I’ve been there too.

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Transformation, or Just Distraction?

Let’s be honest: gear is intoxicating. You pull on a gas mask and the world narrows to the hiss of your own breath. Going full drone makes you anonymous, faceless, pure energy. The hood locks, the boots shine, and suddenly you’re someone else entirely. It’s transformation as close as we mortals get to alchemy.

And it’s not just about protection or kink. Full coverage gives us a new identity. It’s like putting on a persona: the awkward guy from the office disappears, and the drone, the SWAT ghost, the avatar emerges. That shift is powerful. It’s freedom.

But it’s also temporary. The mask comes off, the zipper opens, and the old self slides back in. Sometimes that return feels heavier than we expect. Sometimes the contrast between the extraordinary and the everyday is almost unbearable.

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Why Normal Life Can’t Compete

Part of the problem is that vanilla life just… pales in comparison. Filing expenses or buying groceries doesn’t exactly compete with getting strapped into a full rubber cocoon or dancing for hours sealed in a respirator. The mundane feels extra dull once you’ve tasted the extremes.

And so, we chase the extremes again. Another suit. Another party. Berghain after Lab. Another transformation. The “normal” world becomes background noise, something to endure until the next chance to escape into the scene.

But that’s also the danger. Psychologists call it the hedonic treadmill: the more we seek pleasure, the more we adapt, and the harder it is to feel satisfied. That rush you felt the first time you suited up? It fades. The event that once felt epic becomes routine. The gear you thought would change everything becomes just another piece hanging in the closet.

So we keep running on the treadmill: upgrading, adding, layering. Expecting the next thing to deliver the happiness the last thing didn’t. And the cycle keeps spinning.

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At the Center, Still Alone

Events like Gummi at Lab are our temples. You walk into a hall full of sealed men, gear glistening, respirators humming. It’s like stepping into a collective dream.

And yet… fantasies are fragile. They’re thrilling, but they don’t guarantee fulfillment. I’ve stood in the middle of those rooms and thought: This is it. This is what I wanted. And then, just as quickly: So why do I still feel hollow?

Part of it is comparison. In the moment, you look around and everyone else seems to be having the time of their lives. Later, you scroll through Instagram, and it hits harder: perfect photos, curated afterglow, endless likes. Meanwhile you’re home in sweatpants, washing your catsuit, wondering why your night didn’t match theirs.

This is the happiness paradox: most people believe their friends are happier than they are. And the kicker? Your friends think the same thing about you.

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Why Pleasure Isn’t Enough

Here’s the truth: gear and events give us highs, but not meaning. And meaning is what we’re really chasing.

Sartre said: “Man is nothing else but what he makes of himself.” That Libidex made-to-measure won’t hand us meaning, no matter how shiny it is. It’s what we build with it — the connections, the intimacy, the ways we let ourselves belong.

Viktor Frankl wrote: “Life is never made unbearable by circumstances, but only by lack of meaning and purpose.” That’s not to shame us for feeling empty after a party. It’s a reminder that the emptiness isn’t about the event, or the mask, or the gear. It’s about what lies underneath: a hunger for purpose. And that hunger doesn’t go away just because we zip into rubber.

If anything, gear makes the contrast sharper. The transformation is so powerful, the return to “normal” so stark, that the void becomes impossible to ignore.

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When the Mask Comes Off

This is the part we rarely say out loud: the void doesn’t vanish when the S10 seals. It follows us under the mask. It’s waiting in the silence of the hotel room. It lingers in the scroll through other people’s highlights.

And that’s okay. The void doesn’t mean we’re broken, or that we’re failing at the scene. It means we’re human. Pleasure and meaning are not the same thing, and gear was never designed to fill that deeper need.

Sometimes I joke that the void has better acoustics when you’re in gear. But humor aside, the point is: it’s normal. It’s part of the process. And maybe, instead of running from it, we can sit with it.

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Finding Meaning in the Mess

So where do we go from here? I don’t have a grand solution, but here are a few things that help me:

• Tame the expectations. Don’t expect the perfect hood or catsuit to erase loneliness. Let gear be what it is: a ritual, a thrill, a second skin. Nothing more, nothing less.

• Shift from consumption to creation. Instead of asking “What can this scene give me?” ask “What am I building here?” Maybe it’s trust, community, or just one genuine laugh in the middle of a loud room. The greatest rewards come from what you contribute, not what you consume.

• Seek depth over highs. Highs fade. But the friendships that form over years, the chosen family who knows you inside and outside the gear — that’s where meaning grows. These connections are the true foundation.

• Play with personas. Gear gives us a chance to become someone else — a drone, a soldier, an object. Use that freedom, but don’t forget to check in with the person who takes the gear off at the end of the night. That person is the one who will carry the feelings and experiences forward.

• Laugh at the absurdity. Because really — a room full of men in full drone gear, masks hissing, dancing to repetitive electronic music? It’s serious, but it’s also wonderfully ridiculous. Humor doesn’t ruin the magic; it keeps us human.

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I’m not writing this as someone who’s figured it out. I’m writing because I think many of us are carrying the same questions in silence. I love gear, I love the scene, but I’ve learned that no mask, no hood, no suit can deliver meaning by itself.

Maybe vanilla life feels dull, and maybe the scene feels overwhelming, but somewhere between those two extremes is a chance to build something real.

Because gear is a doorway, not a destination. The suits, the masks, the events — they’re tools for transformation, but they don’t complete the journey for us. The real search for meaning begins behind the visor, beneath the hood, after the music stops.

And maybe the bravest thing we can do is face the void, laugh at the absurdity, and still choose to live, connect, and create.

Fundamentals

• When and where: Karlsruhe, Germany; 26-28 October 2023
• Pricing: 155 EUR (whole weekend package including 3 nights of events, non-alcoholic drinks + wine + beer), 2-day pass 120 EUR, single day pass 60 EUR
• Accommodation: self-organized
• Entrance policy: Mixed full gear, gender-inclusive
• Website: https://eu.gearblast.com/

The Central European edition of the GearBlast franchise, which also includes the UK and US versions, took place in Karlsruhe 26-28 October 2023. Approximately 300 gearheads assembled in Port of Senses, an expansive BDSM club in the outskirts of the city for 3 nights of partying and gear fun. Having done the Zurich incarnation of the event 10 years ago, it was time to see how the event has developed.

Tickets and Accommodation

Ticket sales for the event started in August with two rounds: first one for returning visitors, second one for everyone. As I had the benefit of technically being a returning visitor, I secured a ticket in the first round. However, the popularity of the event took many by surprise, and both rounds saw all initial tickets taken in a few seconds, leaving many surprised and some upset. A waitlist was used to replace cancellations with waiting people, but some were still left without a ticket.

The ticket sale process, verification and payment stages were handled extremely fast (in a matter of few hours), so once you actually got a ticket, there wasn’t anything to stress about. All GearBlast editions are known for their professional style communication, with regular newsletters and updates, reducing the stress level of attending a weekend of this nature.

All guests need to arrange their own accommodation. While Karlsruhe has plenty of hotel capacity, there aren’t feasible accommodation options within walking distance of the venue (with the exception of one hotel used by the staff), but most gearheads end up staying in the few closest ones, allowing for plenty of carpooling options. 

Venue

GearBlast EU is held at Port of Senses, an expansive BDSM studio with plenty of options for play and socializing. Located in the harbor area of Karlsruhe, the industrial backdrop and plenty of parking space provide a good compromise between location and privacy. BDSM furniture and dark nooks and corners provided many possibilities for advanced play or just a quick cuddle.

Besides the large play areas, Port of Senses also includes a large dance floor area, a bar and an outdoors heated patio, allowing for plenty of space to cool down (or heat up). The staff had even set up a self-service photo booth, allowing you to take as many selfies as you wanted with your gearhead friends.

Food and Beverage

All tickets include unlimited soft drinks, coffee and wine and beer. Premium alcohol was available for additional cost. For those attending on Thursday, a complimentary barbeque was offered, and a light midnight snack was offered daily for everyone. This makes the event quite affordable, since you have no need to spend money, or even have any, in the actual event space.

Activities

All days included specially scheduled events, and there wasn’t a shortage of things to do and experience. A group picture was taken daily. On Saturday, a Gearwalk through central Karlsruhe was organized. During the evening events, there were speeches, quizzes, competitions, and even a Segufix demonstration. GearImages had brought their studio on-site and had a professional photo shoot with the participants. A line-up of gearhead DJs kept the dance floor active into the late hours of the night.

Audience and Community

All GearBlast editions are specifically aimed for gearheads, with a focus on full body coverage. Other than that, there aren’t many rules: the diversity of gear seen over the weekend was vast, spanning from popular MX/motorcycle gear and rubber/leather blends to furry outfits, cosplay, and superhero themes. Play areas had a requirement of face coverage, but having your face visible in the social areas was perfectly fine.

GearBlast EU is size-limited to about 300 people, and while this has implications for ticket sales, there is a hard to define niche quality that makes an event like this much more enjoyable than an event of larger nature. While it is unrealistic to get to know every attendee during a single weekend, you still feel a belonging to a community that shares a passion and supports each other. You can get help with sharing accommodation or transport, or find a missing piece of gear much more easily than in a bigger event.

Gearblast EU goes much further than any other event in making sure everyone feels welcome. Not only do all its editions embrace a public Diversity/Equality/Inclusion ethos, ensuring all attendees, irrespective of their personal attributes (including gender identity) feel valued, but GBEU also introduces “Gearscouts” – dedicated attendees entrusted with the responsibility of ensuring every participant feels welcomed, while also offering support and guidance as needed. Just as one example, when entering the venue, the Gearscouts had formed a welcoming group, cheering you and every gearhead personally when you got in.

Is GearBlast EU for You?

While people have a wide array of tastes when it comes to events, being social, and playing in public, my usual recommendation to kinky people is that they should, at least once, try both an event of massive scale (e.g. Folsom Europe or Darklands) and an event of intimate, niche nature (such as GBEU) to see if either suits their tastes.

For a gearhead, Gearblast EU is guaranteed to be a unique experience. I do not say this lightly: many events succeed in filling up a room with music and people, but fail to build any sense of community or shared experience over the superficial party. Naturally, any event is only as good an experience as you personally make it, but GBEU goes to extraordinary lengths to try to ensure a memorable weekend for every single participant.

So, if you are a gearhead, the answer is most likely yes. But please don’t do it in 2024, because I definitely want to get a ticket for myself 😉

 

[80’s smooth jazz playing]

Before we get started, we’d like to talk for a moment about safety. While you may be a frequent fucker, each playroom is different, and we appreciate your undivided attention while we go through the safety features of our moist, basement death trap. We kindly ask you to remove your gasmasks and cocksucker hoods for the duration of the briefing.

Your poppers bottle is opened, closed, and adjusted like this. Whenever the illuminated sign is on, or people are already nauseous, you must remain seated with your poppers bottle closed.

Portable electronic devices with a urine-proof covering may be used throughout the play. Larger items, such as fuck machines and SodaStreamers® must be securely stowed away.

There are fourteen slings in this playroom. Four in the front, four in the rear, four above you, and two below. Take a moment now to locate your nearest sling, bearing in mind you may already be in one. In case visibility is reduced, a trail of slime will guide you to your nearest sling. Please take off high-heeled shoes before mounting a sling, as they may tear it.

To find an actual exit, look for an illuminated sign barely visible through the thick black trash bag.

In the unlikely event of an actual top appearing, you may be asked to adopt the subby bitch position. It is important to bend as low and forward as possible. If you are seated in the Overdose Bench section, you must adopt this Unconscious Statutory Rape position instead.

In case of sudden excrement event, industrial grade kitchen roll will appear on a holder near you. Pulling on the roll firmly will release its contents on the floor.  

Your condoms are spread on the floor under your sling. Put on your own condom first, and only then assist others. Please note that the condom may not fill. 

This is a non-smoking playroom, and federal law prohibits tampering with, disabling, or insulting people who smoke anyways. You are also obligated to obey any posted placards, illuminated signs, and taunts from the big cigar leather daddy crew.

In case you actually manage to cum, move quickly to the nearest usable exit, taking nothing with you. 

 

Hosted every month, but seeing its busiest months during Folsom Europe and Easter, the Gummi rubber party at Laboratory Berlin is the place to go for most rubber heads. On busy nights, it’s however known for its insane queue. Everyone seems to have a favorite idea of how to arrive: some suggest early, some suggest late, and nobody seems to agree. On busy nights Gummi hosts easily over a thousand people. This is easy to notice, since everyone is numbered on the wrist, starting with 1, and by the end of the evening, you see people with numbers over one thousand. Adding to the stress of going to Gummi, the doors are only open for two hours (from 22:00 to midnight), and entry is not guaranteed if the queue is not cleared by midnight. In order to examine this problem from a simple mathematical point of view, let’s make some basic assumptions for the sake of simplicity. These might not reflect real life conditions, but they are necessary in order to generate some graphs. To make it more interesting, let’s also assume that by midnight there are 200 people left out, so the total number of rubberists on a given night is 1200.

Assumption #1: Rubberists’ arrival times to the queue at Gummi follow a normal distribution

Also known as the Gaussian distribution, the normal distribution is a useful simplification for phenomena, although its applications to life sciences are limited, where the log-normal distribution is used more often. In the context of Gummi, the assumption means that the mass of people’s arrival times is centered around an average (which can be changed for scenario planning purposes) and how far out people’s arrival times are spread out is reflected in the standard deviation. Using example values of an average of 9:20pm and a standard deviation of 50 minutes, and sectioned into 10-minute chunks, the arrival of 1200 people would look like this:

Assumption #2: Gummi processes rubberists at fixed speed

In order to calculate the length of the queue at any point in time, we need to know how people are let in. As there is generally a fixed number of people handling arrivals, it’s fair to simplify Gummi to a First-In-First-Out (FIFO, not to be confused with fist-in-fist-out) queue with a fixed speed. Assuming Gummi processes a total of 1000 rubberists in 120 minutes while the doors are open, this means a speed of about 8.3 drones per minute. Calculating the queue length is now simple: the queue only increases until 10pm, and after that is affected by both people arriving and people being processed at fixed speed. Note that in our assumption, at midnight when the doors close there are still about 200 people in the queue.

Calculating total wait time

Calculating your individual wait time is now easy. It is:

(minutes before opening when you arrived) + 
(queue length on arrival) / people processed per minute

The graph below shows the wait time for any arrival time, although it doesn’t take into account that if you arrive too late, you won’t actually get in:

With these example values, it’s easily seen that the waiting time between 8pm and 10:40pm does not significantly change, and with these assumed numbers, people arriving after 10:40pm are actually not getting in. The numbers used in the example are fictitious. However, plotting the graphs with different arrival time averages and standard deviations does not significantly change the flatness of the waiting time curve.

So when should I arrive at Gummi?

Based on this simplified analysis, the arrival time generally does not matter that much. Arriving way too early guarantees fast access after doors open, but you end up spending most of your time in a non-moving queue. Arriving after opening will get you to the end of a long queue, which psychologically might be more stressful. Arriving much later than the opening includes the risk of not being let in at all. Perhaps the Kiwi physicist Ernest Rutherford said it best:

“If your experiment needs a statistician, you need a better experiment.”

Darkroom culture

Have you ever noticed that darkrooms follow the same cultural rules as rest of the society?

In British darkrooms, it’s customary to apologize if you accidentally touch someone. “Oh, excuse me.” For any play to happen, there has to be the obligatory civilized small talk. “I like that harness. Where did you get it from? I heard Regulation makes great stuff. Can I touch it?”

In German darkrooms, consent means not punching the guy in the nose when he forces you down and him into yourself.

In US darkrooms… well, there are no US darkrooms. Leviticus 18:22.

Frequent Fuckers

Have you ever noticed going to a big event, like the Darklands in Antwerp, is a lot like going on a flight?

First you have to queue for the check-in. Insane queue. If you have a platinum fucker card, also known as a VIP ticket, you can use business class check-in. Smaller queue, better-dressed people.

But then there’s security! What are these security people looking for, exactly? That little pat-pat-pat. That little magic flashlight looking into your bag. Maybe you have a machine gun under your catsuit? A lot of people getting massacred in playrooms, huh?

Let’s face it, you all are smuggling in drugs. There’s more drugs in the playroom over there than in a small city in Bolivia. And they don’t care. They just like selling you those 10-dollar bottles of water at the bar.

So you get in after security. If you are a Platinum Fucker, you can go to the lounge, the VIP area. Drink your one-euro complimentary prosecco, looking down at the masses. Thinking to yourself, if only those people had tried a bit harder in life…

But it’s time for boarding! You all cram into this noisy cramped playroom, just waiting to get out of there. You’re fucking, but also looking at your watch. Shit, I have a connecting fuck in the piss area! If I miss it, when’s the next connecting fuck? I don’t want to be stuck here for hours.

So you run, and make your connecting fuck. You leave in the middle of the night, grab a taxi to some obscure hotel you ended up staying in, saying that you’ll never do it again, but you know you will.

The next morning, when you wake up, you realize you have to post something on Facebook for your family. So you find the nearest Starbucks.

“Great coffee here in Antwerp!”

What’s in a profile

People don’t really think too much about what they write on their profiles.

“I’ll try anything once.” Great! I’ve been reading some books about amputating and I think I have it all figured out now. Got the tools from eBay last week. It wasn’t even that expensive!

“My results say I’m 69% dominant.” Yeah, that’s not gonna work for me. I need at least 71% dominant, and that’s a dealbreaker.

“Just ask.” You mean I have to find that button to send you a message? And then actually write one? You know how hard that is with one hand?

“Not into anything underaged or illegal.” Yeah, right. Sounds kind of suspicious you should mention that. Did your defense attorney tell you to write that in your profile?

“Looking for real bosSSes and some 88.” Come on man, just say you are a nazi. Your code is making us all feel a bit awkward, and not fair to the young ones born in 1988.