Second Life: Second thoughts

My first experience of Second Life should have been set to uplifting, beautiful arias "" it was as much fun as stepping into a Disney movie, and as unreal. When the popular virtual world first threw its doors open in 2003, entering Second Life was like jumping headfirst into a role-playing game minus the swords, dragons and spaceships. The hook dangled in front of us was that this would be a game of you: you were free to create your kind of virtual reality and be the star of your own life.

Despite initial glitches and the perennial Third World versus First World bandwidth problem, Second Life was fun. It was nice to be able to customise your avatar so that it looked like you instead of Xena, warrior princess (you could, of course, look like Xena if you chose, but it's surprising how often people prefer to be themselves). It was fun to do something mundane like visit an art gallery or wander around a realistic simulacrum of Times Square, instead of being restricted to fantasy worlds.

Second Life could be exciting "" users could build any world they wanted to "" or boring, given that you could spend your time there figuring out the virtual property market. As 9/11 memorials, coffee shops, transit lounges for newcomers and offices came up, it seemed apparent that Second Life would work better than most virtual worlds because it was endearingly real.

Like many citizens of the web, I have a short attention span. I liked Second Life, but bandwidth and the minor inconvenience of having a demanding, avatar-free real life meant that I never became a plugged-in citizen. I was playing elsewhere on the web when Second Life grew up.

In the last few months, I revisited Second Life as a newbie all over again. The experience is different "" and not a little daunting. Most newbies start at The Shelter, or one of its variants "" this is no longer a world where you can fly in penniless and naked and find a comfortable niche for yourself.

Second Life is a lot more like the real world, with corporations from Microsoft to Penguin setting up offices, with houses and communities straight out of suburbia, and with a rougher feel to it.

Even for those used to the harsh rules of some online games, it is disconcerting, and even humiliating, to arrive with a clunky avatar, mother naked, and have to beg for a few clothes or a patch of land. The upside to Second Life is that if you're willing to invest the time, the skills and the money, you could love being part of a virtual world that mirrors and often intensifies your own real-world experience.

For niche groups, this is a great place. Wheelies, the world's first online nightclub for the physically disabled, does roaring business. Scholars and students are excited about the possibility of "resurrecting", say, a Goethe or a Socrates in SL avatars, and so am I, even if a cynical part of my mind wonders whether it would be wise to resurrect a Hitler or a Caligula. The dark side is there, too: recently, a paedophile group was discovered operating in a low-life part of SL, a virtual playground called Wonderland.

In the first generation of newbie Second Lifers, you could still be a player. Now, if you arrive in this virtual world without marketable skills "" it's increasingly difficult with competition to sell your own line of clothes, prims or what-have-you "" Linden dollars (the standard currency used in SL) or the capacity to buy either money or land, you're basically an immigrant fresh off the boat armed with only a cardboard suitcase.

I had hoped that virtual worlds would become places on the web where you had all the advantages of the real world, but with the unpleasant bits "" the muggers, the rapists, the drug-dealers "" edited out. But instead of being a kinder, gentler world, as Second Life becomes more efficient and more popular, the bar to entry for random visitors and "tourists" is that much higher. It's a great place to do business in, but it's increasingly unsafe, and challenging "" just like the real world.

(nilanjanasroy@gmail.com)