Roberta Vaughan: A Memorial Tribute to a Dear Friend

• Blog by Adventure Game Hotspot staff
• Published:

Usually we come together to celebrate fun and games, but our hearts are heavy here at Adventure Game Hotspot and all throughout the adventure game community right now, as we mourn the recent passing of our dear friend and colleague, Roberta Vaughan. 

They say the brightest stars burn the fastest, and that is certainly true of this brilliant woman who radiated warmth and light that touched so many lives. So it's with both sadness at her loss and appreciation of her life that those of us from the Hotspot staff and our extended network family would like to offer a few personal words in tribute to one taken from us far too soon. 

I personally didn't know Roberta very well, but I did have the pleasure of meeting her at the Adventure Game Fan Fair last year. It was there that I noticed how appropriate the star analogy is, as even from a distance her charming, joyful, quirky, delightfully infectious personality gave her an almost perceptible glow and gravity that drew people to her. Knowing her mostly by reputation at that point, I was eager to introduce myself but slightly dreaded the usual awkward small talk that characterizes so many out-of-the-blue first meetings. But any such apprehension disappeared the second Roberta embraced me with a beaming smile as if we were old friends, and I instantly felt as if that were true.

Plus she made an amazing Laura Bow!

Now more than ever, I'm certainly thankful to have had that all-too-brief opportunity to spend time with her. And I am so appreciative of everything Roberta did for the adventure community, which I’m discovering more and more each day as story after story of Roberta’s kindness and love and generosity of spirit keep pouring in. It hurts to say goodbye, but hers is a legacy that will carry on in all of us. 

Jack Allin
Adventure Game Hotspot, Fogtown

When people ask how much someone can matter in your life, I think of Roberta. She wasn’t just a presence in the FMV and adventure game communities, she was the bridge between fans and creators, between nostalgia and new life. And for me, she was something even deeper: a best friend, a sister, and a mirror of my own childhood living just 70 miles south, across the water.

Roberta taught me how to be a girl’s girl, even while swearing she wasn’t one herself. From the way I cut the necklines off my T-shirts to the color of my daily nail polish, her influence lives on in every small detail of my style. She shared her family with me. Her memories became my memories. We were both raised by dads who introduced us to King’s Quest and Phantasmagoria and we had no idea, back then, we were growing up in parallel lives. We probably opened our King’s Quest IV boxes at the same moment – me in Canada, her in the States.

She welcomed me into her home and pulled me into the world of Sierra events, where I got to meet all my childhood heroes, and discover that they were even more amazing than I imagined. That was her magic. She didn’t just love FMV games; she championed them. Her dream of creating an FMV museum was already taking shape, with plans to bring it to the Portland Retro Gaming Expo. And it was real. Because Roberta made things real. She created a legacy for FMV games that they couldn’t create for themselves.

She cheered with whipped cream in her coffee, curated a big box collection that put the rest of us to shame, and sent me signed Leisure Suit Larry boxes just because she knew how much I loved them. I still don’t know how she tracked some of them down. The last package she sent me was anonymous: a copy of Larry V on floppy. Of course it was her. Because I didn’t just need Larry, I needed Roberta. And the truth is, we all did.

She once told me, sitting in a broken Airbnb hot tub we tried to fix (and then broke again just to fix it once more), that all the best memories happen in between the chaos. That was Roberta. The one who sat with you in the cold water, raising a glass to the future, making sure you laughed when you needed to most.

Her legacy is love. For games, for fans, for the overlooked FMV gems like Psychic Detective and Tender Loving Care. For those of us who felt a little lost in the crowd until she called us by name.

She was an aunt to my son. They played Heroes of Might and Magic and made pizzas together. Her dad – who loves and misses her beyond words – is like a second father to me now. Her family is my family. My home would’ve always been hers. And her community – the one she built, nurtured, and held together – isn’t just mourning a friend. We’re holding onto a sister, a legend, and a light that brought so many of us together.

Roberta didn’t just belong to one group or one corner of the internet, she belonged to all of us. She showed up with heart and humor and made sure nobody ever got left behind. She was the kind of person you only meet once in a lifetime, and the kind you never forget.

Anna Vigue
The Classic Gamers Guild Podcast

Roberta Vaughan was truly a person I liked, so full of life and full of love, especially for the adventure game community. I know how much she helped and championed a lot of projects – some big, some small, but all with the same dedication and love that she did everything with. And I know she had a heart to help people, because we talked a lot about developing panels for PAX or GDC about mental health because of the role that adventure games played in both our lives at times.  

But the Roberta I'm thinking about today is the one who, just because she's a caring and wonderful person, sent me this: "My book came and I'm reading it. You did such a wonderful job Shawn. And thank you so much. My mum actually took it from me when I unpackaged it and was reading aloud to me and my da hehe. And yes, my parents love these games. I didn't have a chance to grow up as a nerd any other way hehe. Hope you are good hon, just thought I'd give you some extra love." 

You'll be missed, Roberta.

Shawn Mills
Adventure Game Hotspot, Infamous Quests, author of The Sierra Story

Roberta Vaughan was a dear friend, compassionate collaborator, and an overall incredible human who completely embodied the concept of found family.

She entered my life just under three years ago when our mutual friend (and Sierra alum) Robert Holmes put us in contact. She learned I was making a TV pilot and an adventure game and immediately threw her full weight and energy behind it in the final sprint of crowdfunding. It was pretty humbling and surprising to meet someone who'd commit that much belief to something so quickly. Especially without even knowing me at all, but we got to remedy that shortly after, meeting up at Seattle's PAX West in 2022.

I remember within a few minutes of us meeting, I had absolutely found one of my people. She loved art in all forms, but had a particular affinity for the silly, the spooky, the cheesy, and the just plain hilarious. It's no wonder that she was one of the most dedicated fans on the planet of the live-action FMV subgenre of gaming, a realm often known for oddball, schlocky, hilarious antics with actors hamming it up to the moon and back (but sometimes housing some truly wonderful, innovative, under-appreciated art). We hung out a ton throughout the extended weekend, and thanks to the way Roberta gathers her tribe, it was an event that I came away from feeling like I suddenly had a much larger family than I did going in.

We'd meet up twice a year at other conventions, but stayed in close contact through online game nights and a lot of good talks in between. I've never had siblings, but she was about the closest anyone can come to being a sister for me. I didn't really have a choice in the matter; she insisted on claiming me as a brother early on, and that was the most welcoming thing a new friend has probably ever done for me.

Roberta had a keen eye for seeing the good in people, and even when someone deeply wronged her, she held an impressive and inspiring capacity to forgive (when warranted). Time and time again, I watched her work behind the scenes to right wrongs and build bridges as if it were the only thing she felt qualified to do. She's the sort of person who makes you realize our capacity to fix things almost always goes beyond what we previously thought possible.

She was also, as anyone who knew her knows, just the absolute best at gathering folks. When she wasn't curating games for her FMV museum project, she was curating people and facilitating deep friendships between those she knew. Whether putting on events or coordinating massive get-togethers or running the many online communities she had a major hand in growing, Roberta knew the value of bringing communities together and making everyone's support circles grow so much stronger as a result. She was a pinnacle of thoughtfulness, and is the only person I've ever known who would painstakingly bake (and mail!) a veritable cornucopia of Christmas cookies to her found family every year.

It makes such a difference to meet someone like her and feel so immediately welcomed and cherished to be her friend. It's no exaggeration that bonding with someone like Roberta makes you feel like you truly belong in the world, no matter what internal thoughts might try to counter it. Many others will attest to this same effect, and I probably don't need to emphasize how important that kind of feeling is to have amid today's landscape.

I'm going to miss this person a lot. A whole heck of a lot. I know I'll be reminded of her in so many ways, from looking back on the projects we worked on together, the memories of the projects we talked about wanting to do in the future, the enduring friendships I still have that she kinda gets full credit for, and heck, the fact that my young daughter (who Roberta adored like an aunt would) has a cherished friendship with another kid – all because Roberta went out of her way to connect us with other parents in the beloved Classic Gamers Guild group that she ran. There is SO much about the current makeup of my life that I can attribute to her.

Roberta was a 10 out of 10 friend, and even though it hurts real bad to lose someone I thought I was going to get a lifetime of friendship with, the positive impact her presence had on my life makes it all verrrrrrry much worth it. Roberta, you know you're very loved, but it bears repeating on the regular. We'll hang out again on the other side or the next life sometime. Bet on it.

Sean Parker
Adventure Game Hotspot, Fogtown

In early 2024, I discovered that what I once thought was my niche passion for adventure gaming wasn’t actually so niche. My spouse’s pickup truck had been stolen that week, and we had gone thrifting to try to distract ourselves from a truly awful few days. I found a complete copy of King’s Quest V for pennies, and I decided to make a post about it in a local gaming group to spread some positivity. I didn’t expect anyone to know much about King’s Quest other than the name, since I was typically involved in general retro gaming groups where Mario and Zelda were much more recognizable names than King Graham or Guybrush Threepwood.

Surprisingly, I got a lot of people engaging with the post, with people reminiscing fondly about their love for King’s Quest and other genre favorites from Sierra. One of those comments was from someone named Roberta Vaughan, who simply replied “So an adventure game fan here in the midst then.” Shortly after, she let me know about an upcoming event she was involved with, something called the Adventure Game Fan Fair. I couldn’t believe it – a convention dedicated exclusively to a genre I so enjoyed? And yet I checked the link for the Kickstarter, and sure enough there it was. I had never backed something faster than the day I bought badges for me and my spouse.

On the first day of the Fan Fair, I recognized Roberta from her profile picture and let her know how much I had appreciated her introducing me to it. I remember her being overjoyed to hear it, and she showed me some of the FMV games she had brought for the museum display (which I would later find was very much her pride and joy from her community posts diving into various adventures that flew under many people’s radar). Most of the event was spent with me nervously asking industry legends to sign my well-loved PC big boxes for the games I love, but I was glad I got to thank Roberta in person for introducing me to such a cool show.

Weeks later, I’d get an e-mail from Jack Allin asking for testimonials regarding the event experience. I sent my write-up, but I also mentioned how I would love to get more involved if there was something I could do to contribute. Before I knew it, I was a staff writer doing professional reviews for games in my favorite genre.

I didn’t know Roberta long, or very well. But because of her reaching out during one of the most emotionally painful weeks I’ve dealt with in recent memory, she opened the door for me to follow my passion of writing about games. I wish I had gotten to know her better, but I’ll always be thankful that she brought me into the adventure game community that I love so much. Thanks for everything, Roberta.

Sam Amiotte-Beaulieu
Adventure Game Hotspot

Since I’ve known her, whenever Roberta’s name plays on my mind, I smile. You hear about these rare treasures of people, the kind others call or liken to angels – and that’s Roberta. Simply because your happiness was her happiness. In fact, she didn’t even need to see it; she just needed to know she helped. She didn’t do it for the thank you. The air she breathed was oxygenated by the knowledge that she made you feel loved. 

I teach my son that the friends you want in your life are the ones who want the best for what’s best in you. They don’t try to change you. When you have good news, they don’t try to one-up it. When you have bad news, they don’t try to one-up that either. They celebrate your wins. They hold you in your losses. And they know you well enough to see when you’re doing yourself proud – and they encourage that. 

That’s who Roberta was. Someone who felt like a friend and, at the same time, a fan. A fan of you as a human. A fan of your success. Someone who cheered for you when you succeeded – and when you didn’t, she would lie down in the trenches beside you and quietly take your hand, effortlessly supporting you until the storm passed. And when you were ready to fight again, she’d be the first to tell you why you’ll win. The first to offer you a water bottle as you ran past, because your win was her win. Seeing the best in her friends come to life was what made her happy. 

The first time my son had fresh cookies baked for him, they were made by her. Lovingly wrapped in decorative tissue, as if prepared by a boutique bakery and shipped from Washington to Colorado. And because this is Roberta we’re talking about, of course she snuck a big box adventure game into the package for me. What game? One she knew I loved. One she knew I didn’t have. She paid attention to us. To her friends. She listened to details we didn’t even realize we shared. She inspected shelves in the background to see if there was a gap she could fill. 

And what did she ask for in return? 

That we knew we were loved. 
That we knew we weren’t alone. 
That we knew we could reach for her at any hour, and she would be there. 

And she always was. 

Now, as I reach for a closing line grand enough to honor her, I realize that’s too much to place on mere words. So instead, I’ll simply point toward the entire adventure game community. There, you can see for yourself the magnitude of her impact. There, you’ll find countless stories of the beautiful ways she touched our lives. And it is there that her spirit will live on.

Paul Korman
The Classic Gamers Guild Podcast, The Phantom Fellows

I’ve seen so many beautiful, inspiring Roberta Vaughan testimonials that are impossible to top so I won’t even try. Instead I’ll share a short personal story about how Roberta and I became close friends. 

In 2022, during the lead-up to the release of Colossal Cave, we had an agreement in place to cover Cygnus's booth along with the ‘Legends’ panel at PAX West. While we had been paid for our flights, and had been talking with Ken Williams daily, upon arrival we learned that the event organizer had been changed and that the budget had been allocated elsewhere. A true “I guess you didn’t get the memo” moment. 

Roberta, being as shocked as we were, having been the one to bring us on board, appeared to be barely holding back tears. She was simply heartbroken for us. Our shock and frustration was nullified by simply seeing how a slip-up that had nothing to do with her affected this lovely individual – an individual who, outside of emails and some Zoom meetings, I had never met before.

There we were, left to roam around Seattle on vacation, I guess. A couple hours later, I got a call from Roberta asking us to meet her at the hotel that we were all supposed to be staying at. Roberta was there to check us into our room. Like magic, the budget had reappeared, lodging was paid for, along with what she called “fun money” that Ken and I had not negotiated prior. To quote The Lord of the Rings: “Meat is back on the menu.”

Except it really wasn’t. 

Long story long, it later became clear that Roberta had quickly whipped up her own cash (and quite possibly some from her close friends) to cover our meals. Did she pay for the hotel? I don’t know. Perhaps there was a spare Cygnus room that didn’t get filled. Perhaps she gave up her room. The point is that while most people would feel bad over a bad situation but then shrug their shoulders in helplessness, Roberta’s heart moved her to action. 

That was Roberta Vaughan. That was my friend!

Joshua Cleveland
Adventure Game Hotspot

I don’t feel I ever appreciated Roberta as much as she appreciated me. She had this funny way of always making you feel like she cared about you beyond just simple friendship, in a way that made you feel like you were extra special to her.

Every time she messaged me about something, it would always turn into a mile-long conversation that lasted for hours. The few times we hung out in person, we would always end up sitting around on our own, chatting away about everything and nothing – sometimes deep stuff, like her (at this point hopefully well-known) struggles with self-worth and impostor syndrome, which I vehemently tried to shake her out of, or just random stuff about FMV compression or ridiculous puzzle design. And every time one of us went, “Okay, I really gotta go this time,” there would always be a parting quip about something that made the conversation go on for at least another fifteen minutes.

The “no, you hang up” vibe was strong with this woman.

Reading other people’s tributes and memories, it’s clear that I wasn’t special. That’s just how she made everybody feel.

I don’t know how she did that. How you manage to go about sending half a dozen people home-baked cookies for Christmas and making every single person in your life feel like they’re the most important person to you is simply beyond me.

But that’s just how she was.

A lot of times, when people pass away, everybody scrambles to paint the deceased as some beacon of light that could never do any wrong. Stuff like “always had a smile on their face,” or, “was always so full of life,” or, the worst one, “was loved by everybody.”

Nobody is like that. Nobody goes through life with a permanent smile on their face and no one is universally loved by everybody.

Roberta came damn close, though.

Like, 99% there.

The fact that she didn’t always have a smile on her face is the only thing that kept her away from the 100% mark.

What was also truly amazing about her was her tenacity. One thing’s for goddamn certain: It wasn’t like she just sat around and crossed her fingers that the best outcome would somehow magically fall in her lap. She worked her damn ass off, even when everybody told her to chill out and take a breath. 

“You’re working yourself too hard again,” I would say to her repeatedly.

And she would pull her shoulders up in this sort of tired shrug and cock her head and say, “Well, I just want everybody to have a good time,” and then invariably launch into one of her long-winded monologues about how much the community meant to her. They would always end with her saying something to the effect that she couldn’t believe she was lucky enough to be around such talented and accomplished individuals all the time, and she would make sure she included your particular list of accomplishments in that spiel.

She knew everything you did – not in a cursory way; she literally knew everything you had ever done in your life, and she’d most likely had a hand in making it happen as well. And not only that, she also thought it was the most magical thing ever since cavemen banged two stones together and discovered it made a spark.

How she went from “okay, this guy makes silly YouTube videos about adventure games” to “I want this guy to moderate my adventure game panel at PAX West 2019 and I’m not taking no for an answer!” is an even bigger mystery to me. She was like, “This is my guy!” and she steamrolled my ass onto that stage.

I can never thank her enough for that.

That one act of single-mindedness led to me meeting my heroes in the flesh for the first time, not to mention being around funny, quirky, incredibly odd and passionate people like herself and scores more.

Not only that, but she made sure I got there safe and sound. She got me an Uber from the airport to the hotel. When it was time to leave, she sat with me at the front of the hotel in the wee hours of the morning, fighting a hangover and smoking menthol cigarettes with me, waiting for the car to show up to take me back to the airport, just so she’d know I’d get there safely.

She went to bat for me multiple times. I was supposed to go to the Adventure Game Fan Fair to moderate a couple of panels. I missed my flight but, resigned to just sitting at home and sulking, I got a call from Roberta. It was late at night in Tacoma and she and her housemates at the Airbnb absolutely scrambled like mad to get me on another flight. Roberta called up her dad while I was still on the phone and said, “Dad, I need to get this guy on a flight. I need the [however many] dollars to get this guy out here. We can’t do this without him.”

They obviously could. But Roberta didn’t think so. 

I’m still embarrassed about that, but I’m also incredibly grateful. Once again, it was one of the most magical times of my life.

I’m not trying to make this all about me. These are just the stories of how Roberta made me feel special. It was in her nature. She did all of this for me and I never got to truly thank her for everything she did.

She preferred to stay in the background. The only time I ever saw her get truly nervous was when she had to get up on stage at PAX 2019 to introduce the panel because she didn’t feel the spotlight should shine on her.

Bullshit.

She deserved all the spotlight and more.

She didn’t want it, of course. She was most comfortable being the “behind the scenes” girl. In fact, that’s all she wanted to do, she said. She wanted to bring people together and let them do the things they love, and she didn’t want any of the limelight for herself. 

We used to tell her repeatedly she was the glue that kept us all together, and she’d dismissively laugh and wave it off. But we kept telling her. Because it was fucking true.

She was the queen of the adventure gaming community. Not to slight any of the many other passionate souls who have made great contributions to the spirit of the community, but, I’m sorry, Roberta orbited the moon while the rest of us were still trying to figure out the train schedule.

One time, a bunch of us got together and decided we should do something special for Roberta. Just a surprise; just a goof, really. We cobbled together a bunch of music from her favorite game soundtracks. Jackie Stewart sang a really ear-searing punk rock rendition – at my explicit request – of “The Archaeologist’s Song” from Laura Bow II. Al Lowe played a saxophone solo over a piece of music I wrote that also featured Josh Mandel reading one of his most salacious piece of writing from the Leisure Suit Larry 1 VGA remake manual (recorded live at one of her podcast streams, incidentally). And, to top it all off, Josh also wrote lyrics for a tribute song to her which starts with the phrase, “She likes big boxes and she cannot lie.”

We had the thing pressed on vinyl and sent to her house.

I was lucky enough to be on the phone with her when it arrived.

The cover had a fake sticker on it that said, “PLAY ME.”

Her first words, which she repeated ad infinitum as she unwrapped the thing, were, “What the fuck did you guys do?”

Then she started crying.

I’ll never forget that moment.

It was the one single moment where I think I made her feel truly as special as she made me feel.

I’ll cherish that forever.

I wish I’d had more opportunities like that. She deserved a thousand more of those moments.

Troels Pleimert
Space Quest Historian

Ours are just a few of the countless tributes to Roberta spreading all over the internet, many of which you can find on The Classic Gamers Guild Facebook group she so cherished. We encourage anyone who knew and fondly remember Roberta to share their stories as well, either here in the comments, on CGG, or wherever you feel comfortable doing so to spread the love far and wide. 

To further honor Roberta and the tremendous impact she's had on us, both individually and as a community, the Space Quest Historian, Anna Vigue and OneShortEye will be livestreaming a charity playthrough of The Dagger of Amon Ra, one of Roberta's favorite games, on Saturday, August 2nd at 19:00 UTC (3:00 p.m. Eastern, noon Pacific), with all donations going towards a cause decided upon in consultation with Roberta's family. The event will be simulcast on the Twitch channels of both the Space Quest Historian and OneShortEye, as well as SQH's YouTube channel. We hope to see you there! 

And now, as we move forward, let's continue to honor Roberta in the way we know she'd want us to: by being kind to one another. Remember that even little gestures matter. Give someone who needs it a hug. (Or even if they don’t need it.) Pay someone a compliment just to build them up and make them smile. Extend the hand of friendship to someone we don’t know well. Help someone who needs our support, even in the smallest of ways. Be grateful for the opportunity to make a difference. Because that’s what Roberta would do.

We love you, Roberta Vaughan.