MystiCon began over July 4th weekend in 1980 with a simple idea and a lot of heart. Fans gathered not just to celebrate science fiction and fantasy, but to celebrate the act of imagining together. It was joyful. A little chaotic. Full of late nights, big ideas, and the kind of laughter that only happens when people realize they are among their own.
After a quiet stretch, MystiCon was revived in 2010 by a group of passionate, slightly zany, deeply devoted fans who understood that MystiCon was never just an event. It was a home for creativity. A place where gamers, costumers, writers, artists, filmmakers, and dreamers could share what they loved without needing to explain why it mattered.
With that revival came new traditions, including the MystiCon Independent Film Festival, which gave storytellers a screen and an audience eager to discover new worlds. Film joined art. Art joined literature. Literature joined gaming. And somewhere in the middle of it all, strangers kept becoming friends.
MystiCon also began a scholarship auction, created by the community to give back to the next generation of creators, dreamers, and storytellers. What started as a simple act of generosity has grown into a lasting legacy. Today, that tradition continues through the Baroness Award, honoring both the spirit of giving that built MystiCon and the future it continues to nurture.
For a decade, MystiCon grew into a yearly reunion in Roanoke at the Holiday Inn Tanglewood. People planned their calendars around it. They counted the days. They returned not just for the panels or the costumes or the games, but for each other.
After the 2020 convention, the world grew quieter. MystiCon did too. But it never truly disappeared. It lived in group chats. In shared memories. In the quiet certainty that someday, the doors would open again.
In 2026, they did.
MystiCon returned to Roanoke. Returned to Tanglewood. Returned to the place that had always held space for it. Not as something new, but as something remembered. Something waiting.
Today, MystiCon remains what it has always been at its core: a gathering built by fans, carried forward by volunteers, and sustained by the simple, stubborn belief that stories matter and so do the people who love them.
You will see it in the lobby conversations that last too long.
In the moment someone says, “This is my first MystiCon,” and five people immediately say, “Welcome.”
In the friendships that pick up mid-sentence, even after years apart.
MystiCon is not just something you attend.
It is something you come home to.
And whether you are arriving for the first time or returning once again, the door is open.
We saved you a seat.
To read about all of the first years of MystiCon, please click here.