Last weekend, a group of us headed over to the Rivoli in Toronto to
chat about life, the Universe and simulated reality. Between finishing
a spicy Caesar and starting a plate of tofu salad, the conversation
turned to virtual realities such as Second Life.
I've
popped into Second Life on occasion, and I find it fascinating and
wondrous. There is a sense of near-unlimited possibility, as you can do
almost everything you can in the world world, plus a zillion things you
can't--like fly, change your appearance at will, and have sex with
anime characters. I'd probably be in there more often if it weren't so
frustrating to make my avatar look cool. Until I get a better
computer--and my system's no slouch--making any change is painfully
slow. My need for creativity and self-expression outstrips my patience;
there's no way my avatar is going to look generic, but I'm not spending
half a day trying to change his pants. (Sure, I could buy a pair in the
game, but I'm not quite ready to pay real money for virtual products.)
In
chatting about everything you can do in Second Life, it dawned on me
that with all their potential benefits, virtual worlds also carry some
big risks. In listening to people (like George, in SL avatar form above with Betterhumans member Pragmatica)
talk about the sheer freedom offered within Second Life, especially in
comparison with the real world, I wondered about whether sublimating
urges with such powerful technology could dramatically reduce people's
incentive to change the real world.
Take, for example, the sexual liberties offered by virtual worlds.
If everyone's having an orgy with their avatars, and such simulations
are becoming increasingly real and immersive--think tactile
feedback--what impetus is there for people to fight against the
messed-up sexual politics of the real world?
Then there's the fact that virtual worlds have no real poverty,
unlike the real world. At worst, if your avatar is poor, you can't buy yourself genitalia.
You won't starve. The disparities in virtual worlds are not matters of
life and death; the worlds are luxuries, and the products within are
second-order luxuries. Could you imagine telling someone with no home
that you just blew thousands of dollars on a virtual island? Or a single mother who can't afford to clothe her children that you just blew hundreds of Linden dollars on a pair of virtual pants?
Certainly, I'm not saying that people shouldn't have fun, nor that
virtual worlds are evil. Furthermore, I accept that it's possible--and
perhaps even likely--that the virtual worlds of today will become the
real world of tomorrow, if (or, more likely, when) future technology
makes it possible to migrate consciousnesses from our biological brains
to nonbiological computers. And I also anticipate people will accuse me
of making similar arguments to those wanting to ban video games,
television, and just about every other thing that allows people to
escape into fantasy land.
But I would argue that, thanks to their sheer immersiveness, virtual
worlds are qualitatively different from previous escapes, and getting
more sophisticated all the time. My concern is what happens to the
world while we're waiting to upload into our digital utopias. The more
realistic and appealing our virtual worlds, the more I fear people will
avoid dealing with real problems. It's certainly possible that virtual
worlds will have a positive societal influence, with people trying to
replicate some of their virtual experiences in real life. But I think
it's far more likely that people will increasingly seek to escape a
world with poverty, sickness, social strife and other ills for one
where such suffering is not only eliminated, but simply not represented
because those who suffer can't afford the cost of entry.