A true makeover requires more drastic steps. Botox and plastic surgery are too drastic, and they sound painful, but the idea of a pseudonym — a virtual makeover — appeals to me. Slip on a new persona and you can wander incognito in the world, observing and participating but ready to retreat into privacy at a moment’s notice.
Some people become world famous under an assumed name, like Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain), Amandine-Aurore-Lucile Dupin (George Sand), or William Bonney (Billy the Kid).
Worldwide acclaim defeats the purpose of having an alias, though. I’m just as glad that my only clandestine publication — a delightfully witty volume published under the name S. Mortis Rigueur — remains deep in the stacks of the Library of Congress. Some day I will reveal my identity to an adoring literary public, but for now I bask in obscurity.
Recently, I have discovered a new cloaking device that lets me be a world player at minimal cost and with nearly guaranteed anonymity. It’s Second Life, a popular virtual world in the realm of Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Games.
When a friend suggested it, I resisted at first. I had visions of being sucked into one of those computer simulations where teenage boys whack at each other with glowing swords. You see one evil knight, frankly, and you’ve seen them all.
Second Life, though, is different. Yes, you get to have an avatar, which is what they call the animated “person” who is your surrogate in the online world. A high percentage of the 6 million avatars in SL aren’t out to whack anybody, though. As a matter of fact, you can get thrown out of SL for unauthorized whacking, or even for abusive language.
In real life, residents are people like you and me: nurses, grocers, teachers and glassblowers. In SL, they manipulate a complex,
3-dimensional, imaginary world, doing adult stuff like building, buying and selling property, taking vacations in exotic places and creating artwork. Barely a third of SL residents are from the U.S., so your chances of rubbing elbows with someone from, say, Brazil or France are quite good.
Second Life is an ideal platform for learning to run a small business. If you have a skill like clothing or jewelry design, you can use SL as a trial marketing platform before you invest big money to capitalize a real world business. Several large corporations, like IBM, Toyota, and Sun Microsystems advertise and do business in SL, too. It’s cheaper than flying employees around the world for face-to-face meetings.
Not surprisingly, a growing number of colleges and universities, including the Minnesota State Colleges and Universities, have virtual campuses in SL. They offer seminars, link to real-world library resources and provide meeting places where visitors from across the globe can discuss events of the day.
There is a certain amount of role playing. You can change the appearance of your avatar daily if you wish, even to the extent of making yourself into a dragon or a furry beast. Most people settle for changing clothing and hair color, which is much easier and cheaper than in real life. I get to wear cool hats and look about 30 years younger.
Gartner Inc., the large IT advisory firm, recently predicted that by 2011 more than 80 percent of Internet access would involve some form of immersive environment. One-to-one e-mail communication is giving way to the type of conversations we experience every day in coffee shops and board rooms. Second Life is already there.
Artificial? Of course, and yet real enough to offer life lessons in how to work and play well with others. The possibilities in SL are fascinating. And it’s more fun than just having a pen name. Try it yourself, for free, at www.secondlife.com.
Steve Richardson enjoyed a long career in higher education and is now discovering new excitement in business with his wife at Touchstone Glass.
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