"Yarr," A voice booms out through the convention center, "Welcome all, to PirateCon. I be your host, the pirate captain, and I thank ye all for coming to our keynote speech." Dressed in a black coat and sporting a hook hand and skull-and-crossbones hat, the pirate captain seems to have stepped out of a cheap paperback novel. "Please enjoy ye complementary food and beverage, paid for by our latest haul o' booty." The pirate captain gestures to a lavish buffet spread at the back of the hall. "This calls for a celebration, and-"

"Hold up." The pirate captain is interrupted by a young person, wearing sunglasses and a beanie, clambering on stage. "This is PirateCon, right?"

"Aye," says the pirate captain. "I dislike where this be going."

"I came here looking for sick wareZ and cracked games, not for weirdos who dress like it's the 17th century," the youth responds, typing something furiously on a cell phone.

"Do ye want to walk the plank?" Says the pirate captain.

"Please," the youth replies, "who even owns a boat in $currentyear."

"Curses," says the captain, "We had enough booty for one convention's worth of refreshments, not two! How can I afford to pay for all these newfangled internet pirates?"

"Not my problem," says the internet pirate. "Getting things for free is kinda my whole deal."

"Do any other so-called 'pirates' wish to show themselves and ruin me precious convention before it even begins?" Cries the sea pirate.

"Actually," says a third person suddenly on stage, "I kind of assumed that any convention taking place in Pittsburgh and being about pirates would have to do with baseball." This Pirate is carrying a baseball bat and wearing a pinstripe shirt.

"Okay, this just be unfair," says the sea pirate. "You aren't even a criminal!"

"Sometimes I steal bases," says the Pittsburgh Pirate. "Why would yinz even hold a convention for illegal activities?"

"I've had it with you landlubbers! I won't let ye make a home run until you two pay for this convention! And you -" the sea pirate points generally into the audience, but you can't help but feel like the finger is locked directly onto you - "are going to help!"