Commentary

Immaterial World

Wish fulfillment shouldn't be this hard.

All I wanted was a wooden deck on which my guests could sip cocktails with a view of the sea in the distance. Everything else had been easy enough; I'd been able to choose my name, grow a tail, and defy the laws of physics. I'd even been able to design my own underwear. But the deck was beyond me.

An anthropomorphic fox-person, I was floating in midair about 100 feet above Second Life's "KeukaCounty." As a native of upstate New York, I was instantly drawn to the Finger Lakes-themed neighborhood. Grappling with my first home improvement project, I had a bird's-eye view of the half-acre of land I'd just purchased for $50 U.S. (that part's real).

I wanted the deck for my virtual alpine cabin - a freebie I'd collected on the orientation island where all new Second Lifers materialize. Second Life also allows you to create new objects out of "thin air," but that makes it sound way too easy. It manages to re-create all the laws and limitations of the physical world in meticulous - and some might say painful - detail. As a result, creation requires monomania exceeding the average person's interest. Thus my problem with the deck.

I'd created a large panel using numerical coordinates on three sets of axes, and as long as I kept the object "virtual," I could rotate it in three dimensions in midair, carefully orienting it to about the front of my cabin so it jutted out over the cliff face in dramatic fashion. Then I clicked "real" to give the deck the attributes of an "actual" physical object - and watched it tumble into the abyss.

I flew down to the base of the cliff and floated the panel back up to my cabin. After a few more mishaps, it was clear it needed some kind of support. So I created two sturdy wooden posts, which I balanced on an outcropping below my cabin. But this led to another problem: How do I attach them to the cliff face?

The irony is that there's already a pavilion on the property with a fireplace and a bunch of throw pillows. The virtual developer, the owner of Keuka Properties, thoughtfully included interaction points labeled "kiss," "snuggle," and "chill" - mini-programs where two avatars can express affection.

The fact that most Second Lifers are "casual" visitors means there's a fortune to be made developing property and manufacturing virtual goods for resale in "Linden Dollars," the in-world currency. When I wanted to spruce up my pavilion, I bought three virtual couches for about $800 Linden dollars ($3-$4 U.S.). This has given rise to an economy turning over sales of about $5 million (U.S.) a month.

But the difficulty of digital creation may prevent Second Life from gaining the mass following of other virtual worlds. Of course, veteran Second Lifers will probably take comfort in that: The backlash against newcomers has begun, blaming them for a host of ills including "illegal" copying of objects - robbing players of the value of their handiwork.

Personally, I would never steal an imaginary object. And I still don't have my damn deck.

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