The AdventureCru was never supposed to become what it did.

Somewhere in the early 2010s or 2012, give or take when everything still felt a little more chaotic and homegrown, the idea began in the dim glow of a hotel parking lot at the now defunct RainFurrest (a Pacific Northwest furry convention) long before anyone realized what was starting to take shape. The idea wasn’t to turn into a brand or a production company, hell even a party group at that. It wasn’t even a concept at first because it was just a bunch of queer, loud, rowdy, beautiful souls finding each other in a space that wasn’t meant for them, and deciding to make something out of it anyway. It later grew to a multi-faceted party operation that pushed the limits of limited space, and none of us thought it could ever be so fulfilling.

This is a little memoir of our history.

For all the color and celebration of a convention gathering, it can still feel contained. Structured. Watched. Intrincivly organized with every moment accounted for, every space owned by some big capitalist corporate conglomerate, every gathering shaped by rules, liability, and the invisible societal hand of “keep it under control or else…” The idea that you have to spend money to have a good time. It was present in the hallways at conventions in the way that sound had to stop at a certain hour or in the way joy sometimes had to shrink itself to fit inside a room number.

Despite all of this, those conventions were already sacred in their own ways. Sometimes the only time all year we got to feel at home. For people coming from social isolation, from places where queerness wasn’t understood or even safe, these weekends were a sort of lifeline. A rare convergence of mutual understanding.

But even there… existed edges and limitations. If you know what that feels like to be outcast even in an already marginalized community, it’s specifically where you still had to hold back your wild underground spirit despite wanting to go further. And for people like us who were already too loud, too queer, or too rowdy- it never quite fit right.

So we slipped around it.

As said before it cannot be stressed enough that the first AdventureCru party (more like an impromptu renagade) wasn’t even meant to be a “thing.” The early days were messy and the function was teeming with hardcore rebellion. It was late, like really really late in the night where time feels endless and the night belongs to whoever’s still awake. A handful of us gathered in the parking lot of the RainFurrest hotel, half as a joke and half out of necessity… due to the hotel security kicking us out for being extra silly lmao. Someone had music and someone had drinks, and that’s all there was to it. A barebones renegade gathering out back until the security could only stand at the door and watch. (We think it was because it was on the edge of the property lmfao)

What started as a handful of friends pushing speakers around and chasing a feeling of freedom turned into a packed hotel room at Further Confusion in San Jose, specifically room 405 on the 4th floor. This convention, specifically was special because it allowed an over the top party floor where pretty much anything went. Room 405 became both our mecca for a weekend and a stress test of quite literally how many of us we could fit in a two bed hotel room. Each and every night from Thursday to Sunday at the very end of the convention, it was filled with bodies and souls where hotel furniture used to be, all moving together sound reverberating through the hotel hallways. Somehow against all odds, it lasted a full decade. Through venue changes and conventions shuttering their doors, new ownership, shutdowns, a fucking PANDEMIC… through everything.

Truly, how did we make it that long?

Some of us feel that the heart and soul of the party mirrored rebellion against structure. It could be compared to an affront to the idea that joy has to be ticketed and monetized to be enjoyed. It was a rally against the notion that queerness and fun needs permission to exist in a neat little box. The defiance was an act of free spirited creation outside the system. Both grassroots, open concept, volunteer run, and held together by mutual trust, passion, and the simple desire to be together.

Over the years, a lot of us changed as both individuals and as overseers of the party.

Many of us grew into ourselves in ways we never could have guessed. Some of us transitioned into another gender. Some of us found identities we didn’t have words for when this all began. Some drifted away, some stayed, but ultimately all of us were shaped by what we had built together.

And somehow, the AdventureCru grew with us. It became a constant in a world that wasn’t always kind and a place where people could exist unapologetically. For some it was just a fucking crazy party that defied logic, the kind that made some ask (and quite loudly) “How the fuck is this happening in a hotel room???” For others it really was an intimate practice in finding themselves. It was a shining moment of safety and community during the most uncertain and difficult parts of their lives. Or for some it was just a place where against all odds, there was room to have a good time.

Some of us only saw each other once a year. 12 whole months would pass with entire lives unfolding in between, but the moment we were back in the same space at that damn convention for the same ritual. It was like nothing had changed. The same energy and same connection was present and ready for another round. Maybe some of us had a new name and a new look- or a new understanding of ourselves, but the same bond was always still there untouched.

And after all these years, with all things that burn bright there comes a moment where you have to decide what to do with it.

When the party floor shut down at Further Confusion in 2026, of course it’s pretty simple, obviously we didn’t have room 405 to throw our yearly party but at the same time we sat down and had a talk about the future of the AdventureCru.

Some of us wanted to branch out to nightclubs and surrounding queer venues in the Pacific Northwest (which we did a few test runs in the Seattle area) but at the end of the day the burning question still remained of “Does this still reflect our legacy?”

Selling tickets, barring off areas, making things inaccessable to those with no money is the antithesis to everything the AdventureCru stood for. Historically, the event was both crowd funded by merch sales, and out of our own pockets mostly, but it was all in light of the idea that nobody should put a price on community and queer joy.

The convention space was a unique singularity where we could have it all, a space where everyone could join in with open arms without worrying about the capitalistic nature that community = having to spend money.
That space and those nights held a kind of magic that couldn’t simply be replicated somewhere else without losing what made it what it was. We could have kept going by forcing. We could have rebuilt it in new venues, new formats with new rules. But the AdventureCru was never about forcing something to exist. It was also about letting it happen naturally and knowing when to let it rest.

Many of us are older now. We aren’t exactly exhausted, but definitely changed. We’ve grown into new versions of ourselves, carrying different responsibilities, different lives, different paths. And with that comes a certain clarity: some things are meant to be preserved as they were, not stretched beyond recognition.

It is cliché to say but genuinely all good things come to an end even if it’s a bittersweet affair. At least in the form we first knew them as time moves on.

So for now we’ve stepped back. Maybe this is an ending. Maybe it’s a hiatus. Maybe it’s something in between?

What we do know is that the spirit of the AdventureCru doesn’t disappear just because the speakers go quiet and room 405 goes dark.

It lives on in every person who was part of it. In every connection made under the rainbow lights and early mornings spent reminiscing on the night before. In every moment where someone felt even briefly like they belonged. Like they were at home.

It lives on in the artists, the DJs, the producers, the organizers, and the countless freaks and queers who showed up and had the time of their lives.

It lives on as a concept in the kind of underground spaces people continue to create despite everything. Once you’ve felt something like that, you carry it with you forever.

This site exists as an archive of that feeling and a sort of love letter to the time we’ve spent with this project. And maybe… an open door for those that come after us.

Because if there’s one thing the AdventureCru ever proved, it’s that you don’t need permission to create community joy with nothing but a silly idea and a gamble. And you’re never alone in wanting to. So go and seek out those who are just like you and make something amazing.

To everyone who was part of the AdventureCru, be it artists, DJs, producers, organizers, freaks, and queers of every kind.

Thank you. We love you.

Here is an archive of all our shows / events from the very start to the last one we put on.