Posted by Richard at October 24th, 2007
Howard Rheingold published Virtual Community: Homesteading on the Electronic Frontier in 1993, wrapping up a good portion of his research in 1992 or earlier. At this time the World Wide Web was still nascent, and those of us who were finding our way onto the Internet via commercial access providers were still using Gopher to do our exploring. Like the WELL, on which Rheingold focuses, many online communities were formed on commercial online services (such as GEnie, Delphi, AOL, and Prodigy), with only limited access to the net at large. William Gibson and Neal Stephenson were still envisioning an Internet dominated by virtual reality and three-dimensional avatars.
It the ensuing 14 years, many things have changed. Commercial online services are almost extinct (or have converted themselves to ISPs), replaced by membership or subscription-driven communities accessed via the Web browser. Gopher has vanished, and in the minds of most people, the Web and the Internet are synonymous, since the Web browser now grants access to almost everything. The Internet has been deregulated, and e-commerce dominates discussions. Where MUDs and online services gave the general populace a taste of online multi-player games in 1993, now MMORPGs dominate the gaming industry. Virtual communities rose and fell, and coalesced, most recently, around blog comment sections and social networking sites, the earliest of which began growing in popularity in 2003. About that same time, Second Life appeared.
The phenomenon of Second Life and other virtual worlds has raised important challenges to the way we think about digital culture, challenges that send us back to consider the themes, divergences, and convergences that emerged even in the early online community days of Rheingold’s book. To understand the challenge that Second Life presents as a new virtual community tool (or virtual community environment), it would help to look at the way the Internet has changed since Rheingold’s original publication and how Second Life breaks with many of those trends.
Proximate vs Global Relationships
If communities are formed of relationships, it makes sense to take a look at the types of relationships Rheingold describes and how those types of online relationships have evolved in the past decade and a half. The WELL, a subscription-based, for-profit virtual community that dominates the early chapters of Rheingold’s book arose as a way of connecting people across a relatively proximate space: the San Francisco Bay area of California. With just a few hundred subscribers when Rheingold joined in the 1980s, the WELL community sponsored picnics, parties, and dinners that most members could drive to. Its focus was to introduce people and serve as a communication channel that supplemented other available channels. But Rheingold notes that as the WELL grew, so did the user base: it came to include members from the East Coast and across the country. People developed virtual relationships with others they had little hope of meeting. As the WELL and other, similar networks gave way to commercial access to the Internet in throughout the 1990s, with Usenet newsgroups, MUDs, and IRC channels, distance communication rose in importance. These new, global relationships were not people who would necessarily have regular meet-ups — or even know who the others really were. Simultaneously, the Web gave birth to numerous sites that fostered proximate relationships. If one wanted to meet one’s neighbors, one went to a local chat site, personals site, or message-posting site (depending on what one wanted to meet one’s neighbors for). These sites rose in prominence as more and more Americans began to accept the Internet into their daily lives. As one wit of the late ’90s quipped: most people were using a powerful network built to foster global communication to hook-up with people who lived down the street.
Second Life represents a radical departure from this increasingly proximate nature of the Internet. Linden doesn’t build many local groups or networks and not many have formed inside Second Life. The focus is in-world relationships and in-world communication. Relationships formed there are meant to build and grow within the context of the Second Life world. This focus on global, non-proximate relationships has foregrounded another, almost forgotten dimension of virtual life that Rheingold discusses: its lack of social acceptance.
e-Respectability vs. The Nerdnet
Rheingold also discusses the respectability of the ‘net communications at great length, including those who disdain Internet-gained credibility, fear and misunderstand MUDs, and wonder why anyone would find the network enjoyable. He vividly describes an exchange with his wife who describes the WELL as a bunch of misfits finding each other. As the Internet grew, however, so did its respectability. It is now a standard part of professional collaboration, personal and professional shopping, billing and payment, and travel planning.
In many ways Second Life represents a break with the ‘Net’s increasing respectability. Second Life foregrounds cybersexual behavior, online-only relationships, and alternative identity formation. While these are all well known in the MMORPG world, MMORPGs (over and against virtual worlds) represent a specific, goal-oriented ludic activity. Games are, after all, something mature adults are allowed to participate in. Pure make-believe (and most people regard virtual relationships as make-believe relationships), on the other hand, seems to be generally regarded as a child’s activity. The Nerdnet, over against the real net, is based on two components that were central to the early virtual communities Rheingold describes: alternative identity formation and alternative economic models.
Presenting the “Real” Self vs. Forming the Alternate Self
Much like the WELL, which even today requires that users share their own real-life names, much of today’s Internet demands that some RL personal identifier be presented and made available. Since the goal is developing proximate relationships (or maintaining existing relationships), this is understandable. If one is using the ‘Net to search for a mate, a running buddy, or a Monday-night bridge partner, one’s own “real” identity must be revealed, at least eventually (even if in stages: with a personal ad, one might get pictures, a first name, contact information, and a last name in that particular order). If one is using email and project-planning sites to collaborate with colleagues, then most of this information is already known. The stress is on representation of the “real” self to other “real” selves, some of whom already know the “real” you.
This stands in sharp contrast to Rheingold’s explorations of MUDs and IRC. There the stress was on the alternate self - the self that was other than the one that was generally presented to the public. Since the relationships were distant and largely solely online, the “real” self was irrelevant, what mattered was the consistent, believable presentation of an alternate identity.
Second Life represents a large-scale return to the Internet of the alternate identity, though it offers a unique twist on the MUD or IRC. Where these communication channels allowed users to create and recreate themselves, Second Life encourages the formation of one consistently named “avatar,” whose appearance, gender, and ethnicity may change radically from moment to moment. This allows the avatar to shift to the environment or the whims of the user while still be recognizable to friends. For instance, my avatar, Ru, generally wanders around as a short man with a lemur’s tail. But he’s visited a sex club as a pink-haired, overweight, knobby-kneed, gnome in leather shorts and a tank top. He also appears in the Toxia City online game (hosted within Second Life) as a black-clad, normal-sized man with red hair and a lip piercing. When he visits professional locations, with people I might one day meet in real life, he pumps up his height, narrows his shoulders, and puts on cargo pants and a button-up shirt. He’s even appeared briefly as a woman with giant, webbed ears (and oddly, he was propositioned).
e-Commerce vs. The Gift Economy
Since the mid 1990s, ecommerce has gained attention from a variety of quarters, creating an Internet bubble (and the subsequent burst) and still fostering new business ventures. Rheingold called the WELL, on the other hand, a “gift economy” and discussed knowledge, communication skills, verbal eloquence, and quick wit as the “coin” of MUDs and IRC (along with programming skills and a willingness to share). Rheingold also notes the significance of “Mastery,” especially in terms of mastering the environment and its coding standards.
Such an economy also emerges in Second Life, even though it comes alongside a more traditional e-commerce version. While users must pay money for certain privileges (such as access to games that use a combat system), almost all other items can be constructed, which means they can also be given away in exchange for friendship, favors, or simply to foster generosity. The eloquence that makes the items valuable is in the visual and interaction design rather than the language, though quick wit and linguistic eloquence continue to play a role. In “Toxian City,” a Second Life-based RPG that my avatar Ru Weatherwax has been exploring, characters try to foster the image of a gritty, urban, noirish fantasy environment. Since nonverbal communication must be scripted, most avatars still make extensive use of non-visual, text-based emoting to describe the fine details of their actions. (While scripts can be created to mimic these non-verbals, even simple scripts, when unnecessary can slow the response of the server). In the excerpted following exchange, Ru interacts with two other avatars who are also playing characters in Toxian City, combining emoting with dialog rather than trying to finely manipulate avatar movement:
[21:12] Serena Razor laughs. “Consider it a token of gratitude.”
[21:14] Taina Vollmar turns to Ru, “Keep an eye out for that one, friend…she is more cunning than any Daemon.”
[21:14] Ru Weatherwax grins “Yes, I’m picking up on that”
By making use of the emoting features of the Second Life chat interface, players enrich the game play for other users in ways that might be missed if only those who could script movement were allowed to participate. Likewise, the gift economy is fostered when Second Lifers freely share information, give virtual object and scripted gifts, and allow public access to their virtual geographic locations.
Closing Thoughts: Imminence vs. Transcendence
Moreso than any one trend, much modern development of the Internet has sought to build networked applications that made the Internet ubiquitous and virtualinvisible - imminent. This newer Internet travels alongside our lives and supplements the relationships and activities that we already have in the physical space. Second Life represents, in some senses, a movement backward to the types of virtual communities Rheingold described: those that were outside of our everyday experience. For Rheingold and his contemporaries, going online meant that your eyes (and attentions) were leaving to real world and moving to the virtual world. For them the Internet did not pervade every element of their universe, it transcended it.
Second Life, and other virtual reality applications, likewise don’t seek to supplement existing relationships or help us build relationships that will then primarily move to real time. While they can be used for such, numerous other tools seem to better serve these ends. Instead, Second Life intends to help us create just that. A life other than, and outside of, the one we currently lead. Where the Hindu gods created avatars in order to touch the world of humans, humans create avatars in Second Life in order to escape that world - though whether it’s the world of the gods that they aspire to may depend on the user.