Love Forever Changes

Philip Rosedale, late of the SL parish, has a new startup, the snappily named LoveMachine. Its exact purpose is still obscure, but there is talk that they will “have a huge amount of fun, make a bunch of money, and try to save the world”.

Philip has helpfully listed the first few corporate tasks, which include “Locate some great bars in SF that could be good to park new company in for a while”. I’m off to polish my CV for when they advertise for an in-house psychiatrist.

[Hat-tip: Opensource Obscure]

Waiting at the Berlin Wall

It’s 20 years to the day since the fall, literal and figurative, of the Berlin Wall, an event that at the time was astonishing in its rapidity, and seems no less so two decades later. In retrospect it is easy to say that it was inevitable that the exhausted regimes of Eastern Europe would topple under the twin stresses of Western economic dominance and popular discontent, but even at the end of the 80’s the Cold War was such a dominant fact of everyday life that its abrupt, and relatively peaceful, conclusion came as a shock.

I identify myself politically as a communist, so you could be forgiven for thinking that I would look back on the events in Berlin with regret, but I belong to that tradition of the British left which can loosely be described as “Trotskyist“, so I was as happy as anyone (apart from the inhabitants of Eastern Europe obviously) to see the bureaucratic Stalinist regimes of Moscow and its allies disappear into the pages of history. What was disappointing was that they had been brought low not by the renewal of revolutionary ideals that we had anticipated, but by being outperformed by the western economic model (we had anticipated this too, just not so soon, or so suddenly).

It’s fair to say that the demise of the Soviet Union had an enervating effect even on us leftists who were actually its deadliest ideological enemies, since it heralded a period of capitalist triumphalism that is beginning to falter only now (at least in the West; in the developing world communism has remained influential). That said, the existence of the obviously repressive Soviet bloc was always a dead weight around the neck of the left, forcing us to spend time thinking about the nature of the deformed workers’ state that would have been better spent working on more pressing issues, and its collapse has ultimately proved liberating for progressive movements in Europe. (Of course the local difficulty we suffered pales into insignificance beside the blighted lives of millions of workers who actually had to survive under “socialism in one country”). The story of the degeneration of the high ideals of the Bolshevik revolution is one of a missed opportunity to build a better future, and one we must learn from, as the world once again urgently needs an alternative to the bankruptcy of capitalism.

There’s a reconstruction of the Wall on the grid, with details of its history, including the iconic Checkpoint Charlie:

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Perfect if you don’t want a holiday in the sun.

Taking Ownership of the Problem

In an intriguing footnote to the Burning Life festival, reports have emerged that a person or persons unknown distributed a mysterious box around the site, said box allegedly containing a virtual cornucopia of ripped-off items. Outraged commentators immediately cited this as yet another example of Linden Lab’s woefully negligent approach to protecting IP rights. Interestingly, and I’m sure entirely coincidentally, the alleged super-crime was brought to the world’s attention by none other than Stroker Serpentine, who of course is currently suing the Lab, claiming in his action that, among other things, the Lindens have had a woefully negligent approach to protecting IP rights. If that wasn’t enough to get the conspiracy theories going, Stroker’s rather ham-fisted attempt to pin blame for the alleged offence on (apparently) well-known open-source advocate Damen Hax further fanned the flames. Throw in the whole third-party viewer controversy, and the scene is set for another skirmish in the long-running war between the forces of DRM and the open-source guerillas.

Godless communist that I am, in my ideal virtual world all items would be free to transfer and copy, and content creators would contribute their talents without material recompense, their reward being the knowledge that they had helped build a better experience for everyone. I guess that’ll have to wait until after the revolution. In the meantime we’re stuck with some sort of copyright protection system, though we clearly need something better than the current unsatisfactory model.

The lesson from the music industry is that there is no future in ever-more-complex DRM – making customers jump through hoops to access content that they have purchased just pisses them off, and it’s never long before the pirates crack it anyhow. It’s much better to make paying for stuff so painless that people won’t go to the bother of seeking out stolen goods – some sort of micro-payment or subscription system seems to be the favoured model.

How might that work in Second Life? The first step would be to establish a central content inventory, run by Linden Lab directly, or some semi-autonomous surrogate. Upon payment of a subscription residents would gain access to this inventory, and would be able to rez up a set amount of prims. The exact number available concurrently could vary depending on the level of the subscription – free accounts could be limited to, say, 10, with a sliding scale up an unlimited quantity. Continued access to the items would be dependent on keeping up the payments. Content creators who wanted their items to be included would have to register, and once they had they would get a cut of the subscriptions, based on the relative popularity of their stuff.

I’m sure that it wouldn’t take too much tweaking of the permissions system to make this function. The key would be to set the subscription (tax might be a more descriptive word) low enough so that evading it by picking up pirated goods was more trouble than it was worth, but high enough to generate enough revenue to keep the designers happy.

A scheme like this is much more likely to succeed in a virtual world than in real life, where a lot of work would have to be put into prediction of demand, and planning resource and capacity allocation. This doesn’t always work out well in practice, though I’d argue that it is possible to run a successful planned economy if enough information is available. In a virtual world however, items can be manufactured instantly, with practically no resource implications, so it’s perfectly feasible to have no advance plan for production, and to just react to demand.

The biggest hurdles to overcome might be cultural, psychological and political. Designers would have to accept that they were essentially employees, or at least subcontractors, of a big state-owned corporation, and residents would have to be happy to pay the tax to support it. Somehow I can’t see either of these things, especially the former, coming to pass, and I doubt Linden Lab, grounded as they are in the free-market spirit, would have the appetite to run such a system anyway.

If the public option isn’t palatable, there might be a private alternative – designers could band together in consortia to offer a smaller subscription service. I think it would really need the scale of a grid-wide operation to make it practical though, so over time the trend would be towards a private monopoly, which has a lot less to recommend it than a public one.

I’m sure that someone has thought of this before, done the sums, and worked out that it wouldn’t be profitable. I don’t see that as a valid objection though, since the aim I have in mind is improving Second Life for everyone, rather than making money for anyone in particular.

The broader point is that it’s no good pursuing technical solutions to what are essentially cultural problems. It’s very difficult to make people do things that you want them to do on an individual level, even harder to get them to stop doing things you don’t want them to do. A better approach is to try to construct a psychosocial milieu in which the desired behaviour is more likely than unwanted actions.

The solution to the content theft problem lies not in stronger encryption of content, nor with harsher penalties for breaking the TOS. What the Lindens must do is engage in some social engineering, to foster a stronger sense of collective ownership, to build a community that believes that an offence against one is an offence against all. Give everyone a chance to own an equal share of everything, at a price that seems fair, and no one will feel the need to steal, for they would only be robbing themselves.

The Call of the Cornfield

Dear reader, I am writing this under an appreciable mental strain, since by tonight I shall be no more. Penniless, and at the end of my supply of the drug which alone makes life endurable, I can bear the torture no longer; and shall cast myself from this garret window into the squalid street below.

For tonight I dared visit the fabled Cornfield, where, SL-lore has it, those virtual souls who incur the displeasure of the Lindens are damned to wander aimlessly until the end of time.

What did I see? That at which dogs howl in the dark, and that at which cats prick up their ears after midnight. But… I hear a noise at the door, as of some immense slippery body lumbering against it. It shall not find me. God, that hand! The window! The window!

Feel Good Hit of the Autumn

It’s a couple of years now since I added “go to the Burning Man Festival” to the long list of ambitions that I am destined never to fulfil, alongside “play in a rock band”, “run for President” and “make a living from blogging”. It may be for the best, since I’ve heard that it’s not as good as it used to be. If I ever did go I would probably just accelerate the rot, since I would be there purely to consume the spectacle rather than contribute to the creativity – though if anyone pulled me up for that I guess I could argue that all aesthetic endeavour is the result of the interaction between artist and audience, assuming that I could summon up the energy to make such a case after a few days wandering around stoned in the hot sun, gawping at the freaks.

Legend has it that Philip Rosedale was inspired to create Second Life after a trip to Burning Man in 1999. The man himself has debunked this, but there are interesting parallels between the way that die-hard burners complain that the festival has lost its way, and the general feeling among long-time SL residents that things aren’t the way they were, and are only going to get worse. Philip sort of addresses the question in this post, (which in summary says that what we have now in SL is terribly precious, but in order to move on everything has to be renewed), but his subsequent departure from day-to-day management at Linden Lab can only serve to deepen anxiety about where Second Life is headed.

Anyway, in lieu of actually making the effort to haul my bod up to the Nevada desert, I thought it would be cool to take in this year’s Burning Life. I had heard how great the event had been in the past of course, but I have to admit that I was expecting to be thouroughly underwhelmed.

I’m happy to say that my cynicism was entirely misplaced; I ended up spending about ten times as long as I had planned exploring the many and varied installations dotted around the virtual playa, and still had the feeling that I had barely scratched the surface. For the first time in ages I felt a real sense of the creative possibilities offered by Second Life, unsullied by the crass commercialism that too often clouds the grid experience.

The best part though was that there were other people around; friendly people who were willing to exchange opinions about the art and the music, or just have a chat. I know that Burning Life isn’t unique in that regard, but it is unusual to have so many agreeable types gathered together in such a small area.

After a couple of hours I was in such a good mood that even the drawbacks of the platform started to seem strangely endearing. The latest iteration of the SL viewer is far too heavy for my elderly box, obliging me to run it at the lowest graphics setting to avoid the sensation of wading through treacle. The short draw distance meant that each new installation loomed up in front of me as if emerging from a dust storm, greatly enhancing the verisimilitude of the experience.

If there was a disappointing aspect it was the music; in my imagination Burning Man is always soundtracked by Queens of the Stone Age, but try as I might I couldn’t find any robot rock on the many stages scattered around the site. Maybe I should rectify that next year with my own build.

I took lots of snapshots of the festival, but due to the aforementioned graphic limitations most of them are pretty poor; have a look at the Burning Life Flickr stream instead.

Sadly, due to my tragic inability to understand the relationship between SLT and GMT I missed the climatic burning of the Man by twelve hours:

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There’s always next year I guess…

Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space

I logged on to the grid for the first time in ages last week, only to find that my entire inventory had been rendered inaccessible for some reason. This included all my shapes and skins, with the result that my avatar took on an elemental form:

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I thought this looked pretty cool, like William Hurt when he has spent too much time tripping in the flotation tank in Altered States.

Two things had changed since my last visit; the adult content filtering regulations had gone into effect, and I had finally got around to upgrading my viewer from the Linux alpha build that I’d been using for the last couple of years. I figured that one or other, or perhaps both, of these had nixed my content – not, I hasten to add, because it was particularly risqué, but because it was all old stuff, and I thought it was maybe unverified or something. This turned out to be an unnecessarily paranoid interpretation of events, since when I looked today everything was back to normal, there having been some sort of “Asset Server Issue”, according to the grid status report.

Anyway, I was glad to be reminded of Altered States, one of my all-time favourite stoner movies. John Lilly, on whose experiences the film is loosely based, is a hero of sorts to me – his work on altered states of consciousness during sensory isolation (he invented the flotation tank for this purpose) is very interesting, his later fascination with talking to dolphins perhaps less so.

Thus inspired I hit Xstreet to see if I could pick up a flotation tank for my apartment, but the closest I could find was this sci-fi style healing tank (L$200 from A’den Technologies):

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There wasn’t any sensory deprivation, but it was restful to bob up and down, listening to some suitable mood music.

The killer awoke before dawn

I’ve been caught up with work and social engagements recently, and so completely missed the latest big Second Life story; Stroker Serpentine’s lawsuit against Linden Lab over the thorny issue of IP rights, and the Lindens’ efforts, or lack thereof, to protect them.

The details of the case, and its merits, have been well covered in the Alphaville Herald and New World Notes, and there’s no shortage of comment around the SL blogosphere (like here, here and here). In such circumstances any opinion I care to offer is bound to be superfluous, as well as being thoroughly uninformative, seeing as how I have no knowledge whatsoever of contract and copyright law as it is applied in the state of California. But what kind of blogger would I be if I let ignorance of the topic or fear of repetition stand in the way of weighing in with my two cents worth?

Everyone agrees that content theft is an issue; Stroker’s case revolves around the question of whether the Lindens are mere providers of the framework in which the criminality occurs, and thus not responsible for it, or if the fact that the Lab profits from copyright infringement by collecting dues from the malefactors makes it part of the evil enterprise. The precedent that is being quoted is the case of Louis Vuitton Malletier, S.A., v. Akanoc Solutions, Inc., et al., where the luxury goods maker was awarded $32 million damages against a firm that hosted websites selling counterfeit Vuitton items. The Taser case seems relevant too, as well as the Lab’s previous actions in banning in-world gambling and banking, which presumably stemmed from a realisation that the US Department of Justice was likely to regard hosting illegal activity as an offence in itself.

The Lindens’ defence will probably rest on the “safe harbor” provision of the DMCA, but they may be on shaky ground there, since any claim to be at one remove from the murky business of SL commerce would be rather undermined by their ownership of XStreet, and their record of assisting aggrieved creatives with DMCA filings is allegedly very poor. There is some speculation that the Second Life Terms of Service, specifically the sections prohibiting residents from suing the Lindens, might be the Lab’s get-out-of-jail card, but it seems unlikely that any court would enforce a contract containing such obviously unfair terms.

All these legal questions are mildly diverting, but what is much more interesting is the underlying psychology. It reminds me of a gritty crime movie, the part where the heist has gone wrong and the thieves have started to fall out. One can only imagine that Stroker’s sex-bed business must have hit the skids before he would pursue the nuclear option of suing the Lindens. I’ve no doubt that having his designs ripped off has at least partially contributed to this, but I suspect that the inherent limitations of the virtual economy (which we’ve previously discussed here and here) have had a more significant impact.

It feels as if there is more to this than mere financial considerations though. What Stroker and other designers want is not just money, but respect, due acknowledgement of their creative talents. Unfortunately, outside of a small subsection of the SL population, being a virtual clothes/hair/whatever producer just doesn’t count for very much, in terms of cash or kudos. This may or may not be unfair (I tend to think it is some way off being the worst injustice in the world), but it’s a fact, and no amount of complaining on the internet or suing Linden Lab is going to change it.

Looking at it more analytically, there also seems to be an Oedipal theme to this lawsuit. By all accounts Stroker was a Joe-the-plumber type before Second Life gave him the chance to reinvent himself as a virtual pornography mogul; it seems ungrateful, to say the least, that he should set in train a process that could theoretically ruin the company that made his good fortune possible. The Lab may have begat Stroker, but he has good reason to think that he is not Philip’s favourite son; the sex business of which Stroker is the most prominent public face is often cited as the biggest threat to the Lindens’ future prosperity. Stroker would not have to be particularly paranoid to see the regulation of adult content on the grid as an attempt to castrate him (figuratively and literally; ridding SL of penises seems to be one of the prime objectives of the new rules). Perhaps the case represents Stroker’s unconscious desire to kill his virtual father before he himself is annihilated by paternal rage.

What would be the most desirable, or least undesirable, outcome of the case? Should Stroker prevail it would surely be a Pyrrhic victory. The suit is a class action, so every frustrated shopkeeper who ever had a texture pilfered would be able to jump on the bandwagon, exposing the Lindens to potentially unlimited liability. Even if this doomsday scenario didn’t come to pass, an adverse judgement would force the Lab to radically change the Second Life retailing landscape, probably by introducing some sort of merchant registration and approval system, shutting out the small scale entrepreneurs who are, everyone says, the lifeblood of SL creativity.

And what if Stroker loses? There has been the usual Atlas Shrugged-style posturing from various bloggers, with talk of how an exodus of talent will leave the rest of us wailing and gnashing our teeth, bereft of prim hair and erotic animations. In reality, of course, little would change, since any designers who did flounce out would be quickly replaced by others with equal skill and a rather more realistic estimation of the value society places on virtual creativity. It would be for the best in the long run, since Second Life can only benefit from a population that is more interested in enriching the collective experience than amassing personal wealth.

So I’m hoping that the case goes to court, and that Stroker loses. I doubt that this will happen though; the Lindens’ corporate lawyers will want to avoid the uncertainty of going to trial, and will push for a settlement, which I suspect is what Stroker has had in mind from the start. Even if they don’t admit liability the Lab will have to introduce more regulation to avoid facing similar actions in the future, and the nature of Second Life will change forever.

Whatever happens, it feels like a chapter, if not the whole book, is drawing to a close.

It’s the end of our elaborate plans…

Brother, can you spare me an ISK?

More virtual-life-imitates-real-life news from the futuristic universe of EVE Online, where EBANK, one of the game’s largest financial institutions, has frozen all deposits after new management discovered a 1.2 trillion ISK (InterStellar Kredit) hole in the accounts.

At first glance this seems to be a repeat of the Second Life banking fiascos of 2007, but, to be fair to the directors of EB, they do seem to have been trying to run a proper retail banking operation rather than just a glorified Ponzi scheme, with interest paid to depositors theoretically covered by interest charged to creditors.

The initial stories of EB’s troubles focused on the embezzlement of 250 billion ISK by the bank’s former CEO, but what really seems to have done the damage is the spectacularly high level of bad-debt provision. Just about the whole of EB’s loan book looks to be unrecoverable, a failure of risk-management that makes even the most delinquent of real-life banks look ultra-cautious.

It is, I think, another example of cargo cult consciousness, the belief that you can capture the essence of something by replicating its superficial form. In this case EB did the things that a real bank does, like taking deposits and making loans, but without the social infrastructure than underpins such a business in the real world, like a legal system that allows creditors to pursue their debtors and seize their assets. More importantly, institutions of finance capital can only exist in the context of a system where there is actual value being produced, rather than an imaginary universe where work ultimately counts for practically nothing.

It’s surprising that anyone still believes that banking and other financial wizardry can magically create wealth, rather than just existing parasitically on the labour of the workers, given that recent events in the real world have shown up the masters of the universe for the frauds that they are. (ISK also stands for Icelandic Krona, and we all know how well that’s been doing recently.) A certain suspension of disbelief is required to enjoy the experience of EVE Online; perhaps for the more avid players their time in New Eden detaches them from reality altogether.

I want to spin my little watch right before your eyes

My Twitter feed is gradually accumulating a small band of adherents, all of whom, I am sure, are keen to digest my scintillating prose, rather than just following people at random as part of a Twitter-spam operation or SEO scam.

Quimbe, one of my new buddies, has been especially keen to share with me an amazing opportunity he has unearthed. Do I want to ” Discover A Rebel Psychiatrist’s Amazing Secret?” One that will let me “Put People Under Your Control Quickly & Easily … and Get Them to Do Anything You Want?” Well, who doesn’t? This arcane knowledge can be mine for only $197, thanks to the amazing generosity of master hypnotist Igor Ledochowski.

Actually, what Igor is peddling is not particularly new, drawing as it does on the work of the fairly well-known American psychiatrist Milton Erickson, pioneer of hypnotherapy back in the ’50’s. Erikson had a somewhat idiosyncratic concept of the unconscious as an entity whose therapeutic power could be tapped by entering into a hypnotic trance, which he famously could induce in a subject using only his secret handshake. Erikson’s ideas were always on the fringe of respectability, and his modern-day followers, most notably practitioners of Neuro-linguistic programming, which draws heavily on his work, are largely confined to the life-coaching and self-improvement industries.

Igor may not have much clinical credibility, but he does show some appreciation of modern business trends. He used to charge thousands of dollars for his seminars (he says), but there was a physical limit on how many of these he could do, and also a small pool of potential customers, for whose attention he had to compete with all the other gurus out there. With the advent of digital distribution channels he has been able to benefit from a new, and much more lucrative, revenue model – mass circulation and (relatively) micro-payment.

All this came to mind today when I read about the travails of the Second Life music scene. Apparently musicians and venue owners are struggling to get audiences to pay anything at all for their live music experience. Mankind Tracer, alter-ego of musician Seth Regan, is proposing that venues start charging a cover, and he feels that L$500 would be about right for one of his performances, though comments on the thread suggest that people think this would be too much for the market to bear.

My first thought was that if punters won’t pay US$2 to see your band then you probably need to practice a bit more. I’m not out much these days, but back when I was an avid gig-goer I would regularly pay US$10 or more to get into a club without even knowing who was playing. I guess the difference is that in real life even if the band sucks you can still have a good time, because you are in a bar, with your friends, but in SL if the act is no good then the night is a washout.

Even if we take the stinginess of virtual audiences as a given, it should still be possible to make good money if you put on show that is good enough to draw a big crowd. If you played to ten thousand people you’d still do OK even if 90% of them paid nothing at all and the rest coughed up a dollar apiece, and even better if you dropped the suggested tip to 25c and half of them put their hands in their pockets.

The problem is that this mass-audience/micro-payment plan requires a scalability that Second Life currently does not provide. Full sims can theoretically support up to 100 avatars, though on the rare occasions when I’ve been somewhere with more than a couple of dozen or so other people (which have all been music events, interestingly) the experience has not been particularly enjoyable. So even if your band could pull in a five-figure crowd (which is not entirely unrealistic, given the potential world-wide reach), the sim would crash long before you started making money.

Blue Mars, which has (finally) gone into public beta this month, promises the capacity that could make this model work. If that turns out to be true, virtual musicians on that platform might get the rewards they deserve.

There are certainly some bands I’d pay L$500 to virtually see…

Flogging a dead zombie

I know; enough already with the zombie shtick. But I was thinking that we hadn’t done a Second Life-themed post for a while, and it would be nice to round off our undead week with a look at ghoul culture on the grid.

Many people would say that, with their awkward posture, lumbering gait and blank expressions, regular SL avatars are zombie-like enough for most purposes, but if you really want to get into the living-dead lifestyle, a quick search for “zombie” at Xstreet brings up a range of avatars, skins and AO’s for the full “reanimated corpse” effect.

Cheap bastard that I am I went for a free skin from Bloody Hell, though I did pay L$100 for the t-shirt (from CC’s), and L$190 for the zombie walk (from Azumi):

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There are dozens of zombie role-playing sims, so I chose Zombie Valley at random, and teleported in to lurch around for a spell:

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I was rather hoping that some Buffy-style chick would leap out of the shadows to rough me up a bit, but, this being Second Life, the place was entirely deserted. I tried the Zombie Crypt, and Zombie Island, but they were devoid of the living too, so my putrefying body remained unmolested.

I decided to try a different tack, and headed over to a reliably busy place, the Fermi Sandbox, to see if my unhealthy pallor would elicit any concern there. No one seemed particularly alarmed by my appearance though; certainly no one felt moved to destroy my brain, which, as we all know, is the recommended course of action when faced with the living dead. While this bodes ill for SL‘s chances in the event of a full-scale zombie invasion, it does say something about the tolerant nature of the average resident that he or she doesn’t let a little decomposition get in the way of social discourse.

I eventually started just teleporting around at random, to see if I could find a place I felt at home. I was right into the zombie mindset by now, and it felt strangely relaxing to shuffle around the mostly empty suburbs and shopping malls, gaping mindlessly at the virtual recreation of our consumer culture.

Perhaps I’ve been too quick to dismiss our undead brethren as mere senseless flesh-eaters. Maybe we can learn something from their unhurried attitude, and delight in the simple pleasures of living death, like groaning incoherently or snacking on fresh brains. I’m just grateful that Second Life has given me the chance to embrace my inner zombie.