What's in an avatar?

By now, you've gotten to know to my Second Life counterpart, Whymog Troglodite.

Whymog is my gateway to Second Life, my arbiter between the virtual world and the real one. He's got weird facial hair and still can't match a good pair of pants to a shirt — just like me, now that I think about it — but he's trying.

An avatar's value isn't immediately obvious. It requires commitment and insight to create one that reflects exactly what a user wants to convey in a virtual world. With that in mind, it's obvious that I haven't put in the time yet to make Whymog the perfect avatar for me. (You can blame that on this little thesis I'm writing in conjunction with this blog.)

Many videogames offer similar avatar creation systems to Second Life's, but with varying degrees of customization. Characters can be created simply for the sake of humor, such as my guitar player in the music videogame Rock Band, who looks just like Tobias Fünke from cult-classic sitcom Arrested Development.

It's fair to say that Whymog doesn't look at all like me. That's fine; avatars don't need to resemble their users. But I think that if I take the time to change the way he looks a bit and give him a better wardrobe, my enjoyment and sense of immersion in Second Life might increase as well.

You can think of a blank avatar like a new house. It's stable and it's put together, but it doesn't feel like home. But after a few trips to the hardware store and a few coats of paint, you take a step back and marvel at the transformation you've created.

It might sound a little weird, but designing my avatar to represent me goes hand-in-hand with feeling at home in Second Life.

Look Ma, no controller!

What's the biggest problem with Second Life?

The more sarcastic among you may reply "pick one," but I can think of one major obstacle that's preventing Second Life from becoming a major application for the masses: the interface.

When I was a young boy, I played videogames with just a handful of buttons and very little choice in character movement. But during the mid-1990s the first-person shooter market took off with games such as Doom, Quake, Goldeneye 007 and Halo, and gamers had to adjust to three dimensions of movement. An infinitely more complex skill set was demanded of the player, but with a bit of practice and persistence, 3D movement became second nature for me.

But what about people who didn't spend their childhoods blowing their friends' heads off in a friendly game of Counter-Strike deathmatch? What about the older generations who had jobs, mortgages, kids to feed, lawns to mow? It's pretty fair to say that the amount of time required to master the skills videogames demanded wasn't worth it to most people.

That's why Second Life is taking a cue from Nintendo's Wii Fit and Sony's EyeToy (and the latest iteration for the PlayStation 3, the PlayStation Eye) by attempting to make the player's body the interface.

That's right - people will be able to "shake their moneymakers" through the Second Life metaverse.

I came across this article in the School Library Journal that mentions a new initiative undertaken by Mitch Kapor, chairperson of Linden Lab, to remove the keyboard and mouse barriers between users and their avatars. The Hands Free 3D project enables users to walk, run, jump and fly through Second Life based solely on physical gestures.



While it's a long way from being practical (one has to wonder how much a 3D camera like that costs!), the Hands Free 3D project may just be worth watching. Second Life is, to me, all about breaking down boundaries in how people interact online; breaking down those boundaries on the interface side seems like a very logical extension of that ideal.

Here today, inexplicably deleted tomorrow

Earlier I discussed the pitfalls of Second Life's clunky and overcomplicated interface. My opinion hasn't really changed.

But what's even more distressing are the reports of unreliable servers. Many Second Life users dump countless hours into creating and acquiring different items, including physical objects and clothing (see a particularly hideous example on my avatar here). Many users make and sell objects through the game's economy, meaning that people have invested real US dollars into their Second Life experience.

So imagine the anger of thousands of seething users whose inventories have abruptly disappeared. While the last documented instance of this happening was about a year ago, that doesn't guarantee that future problems won't arise.

In my experience with massively multiplayer environments, the integrity of one's avatar is essential above all else. People will slave away for days, weeks, even months to acquire particular physical traits to distinguish their avatars from the masses. World of Warcraft, for example, has driven some of my friends to spend dozens of hours combing the fields and forests of the in-game world in search of rare clothing and equipment. It's not just an aesthetic issue; it's a matter of pride and distinction.

But at least you can't break your wallet over WoW; the player-driven economy is driven by in-game currency which cannot be purchased with actual money.

But when Second Life can't even keep track of its users' belongings, it doesn't bode well for the developer's commitment to its fans.

Phone shopping in SL

Since Second Life's got a reputation for being the big marketing hotspot, I decided I ought to go check out how those sales types utilize Second Life to sell their real-world products.

So what better place to go than the Sony Ericsson island?


As soon as I arrived, I was bombarded by a garish, hovering "I heart ____" sign. Seems like the Sony Ericsson people thought it'd be clever to replace the heart with their logo. I'm not so convinced.

I found that if I clicked on the sign, I could add this island to my list of places to visit. Rather than having to search for the island again, I could just select it from a list of places. I suppose it's about as useful as bookmarking the Sony Ericsson website, but it feels more like they're trying to get me to treat them like a friend. That's a little spooky.


Inside the store, various phone models were on display. If I clicked on one of them . . .


. . . a web browser popped up with specifications, promotional photos and video, and details on how to purchase the phone. It's a clever connection to an established website, and the transition is totally seamless. Maybe there's something to be said for using Second Life as a virtual shopping center after all. Being able to look at high-resolution images and manipulate three-dimensional versions of products is pretty cool.


Of course, what marketing campaign would be complete without free virtual swag? I decided I'd pick the best color of the bunch - orange, clearly - and see what kind of reactions other Second Lifers would give me.

Unfortunately, there weren't any around to ask. The island was completely deserted for the approximate 20 minutes I spent there.

Too bad there isn't a shirt that proclaims "I heart selling out."

Has nobody at Linden Lab played a videogame before?

Well, this isn't exactly what I was hoping for.

I've been hesitant to return to Second Life for a number of reasons, but the biggest sore spot has to be the game's impenetrable interface.

Clearly I'm no stranger to videogames - one look at my other blog will tell you that - but for some reason I just can't wrap my head around the multifarious menus, submenus, and sub-submenus that comprise the nuts and bolts of the Second Life experience.

In an article for CNNMoney.com, Fortune senior editor David Kirkpatrick suggests that Second Life has significant value not necessarily in how it currently functions, but for the potential and groundbreaking approach it suggests for future online interactivity.

"Second Life is important as much for what it represents as for what it offers today," he says. However, he flat-out states that "so far, Second Life is way too hard to use." It's impenetrable to almost all but the most tech-savvy of users, and it requires a computer with more than a little horsepower behind it.

I'm glad someone else is seeing the faults the same way I am. But on the flip side, perhaps my initial impressions were too harsh. While Second Life is largely clunky, inconsistent and buggy, it is an example of a Web where interactivity and multimedia are taken to unbelievable new levels. It may just be a big experiment, but it could very well be the framework for a revolution in human interaction.

Stepping out

First impressions can be deceiving.

When I first arrived in Second Life at Orientation Island, I was overwhelmed by the possibilities in my surroundings. What can my avatar do? Who are all these people? How can I change my appearance?

Thankfully, things have started to settle down a bit for Whymog. I've given him a neat (albeit garish) t-shirt with a photo of a sunset on it as well as some creepy black gloves.


His fashion sense is deplorable, but we've all gotta start somewhere in Second Life.

And where is that place? Why, it's right here, in the middle:


That yellow dot in the middle is me - well, it's Whymog, anyway. That cone-shaped blurry thing protruding from the yellow dot off to the lower-right corner of the screen is called the field of view (or FOV.) It shows what my avatar can see from where he's standing.

Like many massively multiplayer online games, Second Life includes a detailed map that its residents can use to navigate their way through the world. Locations I hear about, either in SL or on the Internet, can be entered and stored here to quickly jump to them.

Doesn't look too intimidating, does it? You can ever see details like roads and bridges on the map.


. . . Wait. There's a lot more than I'd anticipated. Note that I'm still indicated by the yellow dot in the middle. But surely it can't . . .


. . . be much larger . . .


. . . I think I'm in over my head.

I've traveled throughout Azeroth, I've explored much of Norrath, and yet I've never seen anything remotely as massive as Second Life. But in a sense, it's exciting - I'm able to explore a world that's constantly changing, and be a part of that change.

Sounds like it's time to throw caution to the wind and dive in head-first.

Birth

Tonight, at 10:38 p.m. Pacific Standard Time (GMT -8), Whymog Troglodite was born.

Of course, he's not an actual person. (What cruel parent would burden a kid with such an abhorrent name, anyway?) Whymog is a Resident of a virtual world called Second Life.

Here he is:


Clearly, he hasn't developed a sense of fashion yet. His hipster clothing and unfortunate goatee do little to ease his integration into Second Life.

Fortunately, it's all malleable. Right from the outset, Second Life's governor gives advice on how to walk, how to dress, and how to change one's appearance.

It's kind of like the director's cut of life. Nothing is static in Second Life - not even gender.

Whymog is happy being male, though, thanks.

There is a purpose to Whymog's existence, however. He is a student of the Metaverse.

Actually, to be more accurate, he's an avatar for me - a college student named Nick Cummings, who is currently studying at the School of Journalism and Communication at the University of Oregon. You can find my website here.

I started this blog to chronicle my experiences in Second Life to complement the formal research that comprises my Honors College thesis on Mass Communication in Virtual Spaces - in this case, Second Life in particular.

My hope is that this blog will offer several key benefits to my work:

• The blog will serve as a travel journal - it will offer me a chance to chronicle the character, shape, and environment of the virtual world. Witnessing it firsthand is the most authentic way to understand this new medium.
• Blogging presents a chance to flex my creative writing abilities while maintaining a legitimate journalistic quality.
• It embodies the very spirit of Web 2.0 and Second Life by acting as a public contribution to the wide-open space of the Internet. By writing about my experiences, I can hope to educate and connect with other people interested in Second Life - thereby acting as part of the community.

I anticipate my foray into the world of Second Life will last about six months, from the beginning of my research to the presentation of my thesis.

We've got a lot of traveling to do before then.