|
Digital Slob
Curt Brandao
|
Get a life; in fact, you might want a Second Life as well
EVERY DAY, more and more of the world's best and brightest Digital Slobs are being lost to Second Life, an addictive, subscription-based, hyper-real 3D virtual-reality habitat for users to meet and greet via avatars on the Internet.
I'm pretty sure it's the real reason Bill Gates is retiring.
Second Life is like MySpace with depth perception. It's like playing Flight Simulator, and then deplaning in Vegas to visit a cathouse. It's like getting advice on what laptop to buy from a dragon wearing a tuxedo on the steps of a cloud city.
Well, not so much "like" the third one -- it is the third one.
Unlike other multiplayer online games, there's not even the pretense of a set agenda or mission objective inside Second Life.
CURT BRANDAO / CBRANDAO@STARBULLETIN.COM
Inside Second Life, a 3D online multiplayer game that just celebrated its third anniversary, allows users to create their own virtual clothes, play in virtual waterparks, rent their own virtual billboard advertising, and virtually do practically anything else they can imagine. CLICK FOR LARGE
|
|
You can pilot your avatar to fly like Superman. You can salsa dance. You can buy or build a virtual home. You can play poker with a fellow avatar that looks like a Pixar rough draft of Clay Aiken before realizing five minutes in that he's a white supremacist -- or even worse, a white supremacist with a pair of Jacks in the hole.
If all that makes you dizzy, you can also find a secluded, wooded patch near a river, complete with sound effects, and just sit and weep. (Hey, it was an emotionally draining first 10 days in SL -- what can I say?)
Whatever spot you pick to scratch Second Life's surface, you can be sure that is all you're doing. There are avatar hairstylists, fashion boutiques, first-person shooters, virtual car dealers and surreal real estate agents -- and business is booming.
Therefore, it's no surprise that where the real and virtual worlds most directly intersect is through the game's monetary system. Signing up is free, but you can also buy "Linden Dollars" via a PayPal account to purchase in-world virtual goods and services (emphasis on "services" in certain adult-oriented districts). Current exchange rates are about $3.30 U.S. for 1,000$L.
Being a landowner brings with it a broader range of Second Life powers, and requires a monthly subscription fee.
To measure Second Life's level of complexity, I listened in on an online Town Hall meeting where a resident discussed zoning restrictions with Linden Lab CEO Philip Linden.
It sounded identical to many City Council meetings I've covered as a journalist -- at least until the user's mother told him to hang up and finish his algebra homework.
Run by San Francisco-based Linden Lab (the real San Francisco, according to sources), Second Life now boasts more than 250,000 users homesteading on more than 2,500 servers. That's an impressive number, especially given the current barriers to access.
After downloading the browser-like application at secondlife.com, which amounts to a window into the 3D world, would-be Second Lifers must first complete a sort of "avatar drivers ed" by learning how to pick up and create things, fly, chat, and alter their appearance -- it takes some practice.
Also, the CPU-intensive application requires at least a broadband connection, a 1.6GHz processor, plenty of memory and a more-than-sturdy graphics card.
In other words, before logging on, quit Photoshop.
So if you feel a warm, tingly sensation in your real-life mid-section during a Second Life visit, keep in mind that while the online banter your having with that Martian Jessica Simpson may be captivating, it's just as likely that the batteries are overheating on your laptop.
Still, perception is becoming reality, so you can probably give Second Life credit for it, either way.