Celebrities may have a hard time navigating the real world without being pestered by adoring fans. But at Comic-Con, full-body costumes are not only welcome—they’re encouraged. Actors can easily disappear among the thousands of fans in San Diego by donning a Spider-Man mask or Chewbacca helmet, leaving them free to anonymously soak in the convention’s fandom frenzy. And last year, Orphan Black star Tatiana Maslany decided to give Comic-Con cosplay a whirl.

While sitting in a Hilton Bayfront hallway on Friday, Maslany recounted her hilarious cosplay-gone-wrong tale—the time she and Orphan Black co-star Kristian Brunn (who plays Donnie) decided to venture out into downtown San Diego in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles costumes. Because they had only previously experienced Comic-Con on tight publicists’ leashes—appearing at designated panels and interviews before returning directly to their hotel rooms—they did not quite understand how the convention worked when it came to costume limits.

“We didn’t go out on the convention floor,” Maslany laughed, referring to the giant convention ballroom that is the hot, costume nucleus of Comic-Con. “We went to a comedy show, like out of the main Comic-Con area in San Diego . . . thinking that we would have to be in costume for some reason? Like the entire city dressed up. But we were the only two dressed up. It was so embarrassing. We were trying to be inconspicuous but we were just conspicuous.”

As if two Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles attending a comedy show weren’t enough of an insane visual, Maslany explained that the costumes didn’t even fit.

“Kristian brought them in from Canada [where Orphan Black is filmed],” said Maslany. (If you’re wondering, she was dressed as Raphael.) “They were two children’s-sized Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle costumes. And Kristian is a tall man, so the shorts were up his butt.”

Despite the costume miscalculation, Maslany revealed that the two were unwilling to waver when it came to embodying the number-one virtue of Comic-Con cosplay: unflagging commitment.

Asked if they stayed for the entire show upon discovering they were the only audience members in costume, Maslany answered resolutely, “Yep.” Though: “We eventually took the masks off because we were like, ‘This is ridiculous.’”

The humiliation did not end there, however.

“We got made fun of!” Maslany remembered in horror. “The comedian onstage made fun of us. He was just like, ‘Is anyone dressed up tonight?’ We raised our hands and he was like, ‘Anyone else? [Long pause] No? Okay.’ We were like [embarrassed groans].”

Despite last year’s humiliation, Maslany is genuinely thrilled to be back, and lamented the fact that she had not brought a costume this year.

“I would love to go out, but I don’t know that I want to be wearing anything on my body right now,” she said, gesturing outside, where red-faced Jon Snows were tempting heat stroke in fur hoodies.

Just then, a woman with purple hair excitedly approached Maslany, cell phone in hand. The fan congratulated Maslany on her recent Emmy nomination, not seeing this writer’s tape recorder or noticing that the actress was mid-interview. After a few moments of giddy, complimentary chatter, the fan’s attention drifted back to her cell phone.

“Sorry,” the fan said nonchalantly, as though we were all old friends. “I was on my way to the bathroom and was catching Pokémon.”

Maslany, a good sport, engaged politely.

“I feel like there have to be very rare Pokémon here,” Maslany said, referring to the augmented-reality-based mobile app, which is a already a cultural sensation worth billions three weeks after its release.