man lan
The manual
Everything here is short on purpose. A code of conduct nobody finishes reading protects nobody. If you only read one section, read the six rules — they are the ones that actually change how the room feels.
The six rules
No well-actually
If someone is mid-sentence and technically slightly wrong, let them finish. It is almost never the point.
No feigned surprise
Nobody says "wait, you have never used Blender?" here. Acting shocked at a gap in someone's knowledge teaches them to hide the next one.
No backseat driving
Do not lob advice into a conversation you are half-listening to from the next table. Join it properly or leave it alone.
No subtle -isms
The small stuff — "you throw like a girl", "it is so easy my mom could do it". Say it, get told, say sorry, move on. It is not a trial.
Punch up or sideways
The whole brand is a joke about ourselves. If a bit only works because somebody in the room has less standing than you, it is not a bit.
Ask before you photograph
A lot of people here are recognisable, streaming-adjacent, or simply do not want to be online tonight.
The first four are lifted almost wholesale from the Recurse Center’s social rules, because they got it right and pretending otherwise would be worse. Their framing matters as much as the rules: these are habits to practise, not laws to be tried under. Breaking one is not a character verdict. Say sorry, move on, nobody keeps a file.
The promise
LAN is for anyone who makes things, at any level, at any age over 18, regardless of who they are or what they look like.
When the joke and somebody's safety are in tension, safety wins and it is not a close call. We prioritise the comfort of the person being made uncomfortable over the comfort of the person doing it — including if that person is us, and including if that person is popular.
You will not get in trouble for reporting something you were not sure about. "That felt weird and I do not know why" is a complete and welcome report.
The consequences are the boring ones you would expect: a quiet word, a warning, or being asked to leave and not come back. We do not do public trials.
The bit that exists because of the name
Calling ourselves the Local Asshole Network is a joke about us — everyone in the room has been the asshole in someone else’s lobby at some point. It is not a licence, and “it’s just a joke” has never once worked as a defence here. If a bit only lands because somebody in the room has less standing than you, it is not a bit, it is just the thing you wanted to say.
Telling us something is wrong
You will never be in trouble for reporting something you were not sure about. “That felt weird and I do not know why” is a complete report. You do not need evidence, a timeline, or a theory.
At an event: find anyone with a green lanyard, or text the number printed on the back of your card. Online: every post and profile on the network has a report link, and it goes to a person.
The consequences are the boring ones you would expect — a quiet word, a warning, or being asked to leave and not come back. We do not do public trials, and we do not make the person who reported something manage the fallout.
Direct lines
- Email, read by an actual organiserconduct@localahole.network
- On the nightAnyone in a green lanyard. They are organisers, not volunteers who got handed a badge.
- PhotosLanyard colours mean something: green is fine with photos, blue means ask first, red means no photos at all. Check before you shoot, every time.
Questions people actually ask
Is it actually called that?
Yes. It is a joke about us, not about you — everyone here has been the asshole in someone else's lobby. On paperwork, venue contracts and anything a sponsor has to sign, it is "LAN". Everywhere else it is the full name.
I do not know anybody. Should I still come?
Yes, and say so at the door — first-timers get walked over to a table and introduced to somebody by an actual human. That is a real job that a real person has on the night.
Do I have to be good at something?
No. "I want to make things and I have not started" is a completely valid answer to what do you do.
Do I have to talk to anyone?
No. Sitting in a room full of people who understand what you do, playing a game and saying eleven words all night, is a legitimate way to spend the evening. We have a table specifically for that.
What does it cost?
Nothing to walk in. We would rather have a full room than a profitable one. There is a tip jar for the venue, and if we ever have to charge we will tell you exactly what for.
Can I bring someone?
Yes. RSVP them too so we can count chairs.
What do I bring?
Whatever you are working on, a deck if you play, a laptop if you want to show something. And deodorant. We are asking nicely and we are not joking.
Is there food?
There is something. The quality varies with how the month went. It is free and you get what you get.
Who runs this?
Phoenix Feather Studios, a small indie studio that got tired of only meeting people through a screen. We are paying for it because we want it to exist.
Access, noise, and being overwhelmed
The quiet table
There is always one table where the deal is that nobody starts a conversation with you. Sit there as long as you want. It is not the loser table, it is frequently the best table.
Getting in
Every venue we book in the valley is step-free with an accessible toilet, or we do not book it. If that ever turns out to be wrong, tell us and we will not go back.
Volume
No music above conversation level before 22:00. If you need to leave and come back three times, do that — nobody is counting.
Food
There is always something without meat and something without gluten, labelled. If you have a serious allergy, tell us in the RSVP and we will tell you honestly whether we can guarantee it.
Leaving
You can leave whenever, without saying goodbye to anyone. This is explicitly allowed and slightly encouraged.
Ages
Eighteen and over, because there is a bar. Sorry.