Autoethnography: A Second Life Tourist

I understood virtual tourism before as “visiting” a place through pictures, video, narrative and factual information through an electronic medium. Exploring a virtual world in and of itself never really crossed my mind. Using Hayle’s dialectics of presence/absence and body/embodiment and my own experiences as both an SL and RL traveler, I’d like to explore my SL experiences through the lens of a virtual tourist.

When I began my exploration of Second Life, one of the first things I thought was, “I’m going to be a tourist again.” I say again because I had just recently returned from a backpacking trip through Southeast Asia, and so the self-lens was still fresh in my mind. Travel being one of the things I enjoy most in this life, it was an exciting lens with which to view my experiences in SL, but it was also somewhat practical, as I was an outsider exploring a new culture and environment for the first time (or as I like to put it, I was a wanderer in a strange new land). Having been in Second Life several times since, I still view myself (and my avatar) through this lens. Interestingly enough, the netnography research article we read for class had its own definition of virtual tourists – and I paraphrase, members of a virtual community that lack deep interest/investment and strong social ties. While I wouldn’t say I lack deep interest, I don’t really have an investment in SL outside of curiosity and research and I definitely wouldn’t say I have any strong social ties, so in this way as well, I could count myself as a tourist.

In RL, tourism is one of the fastest growing industries. Thanks to technological folds in space and time (and thus, globalization), we are able to traverse the physical world like never before. The RL tourism industry has vast implications, from fueling economies to environmental and cultural effects. Virtual world tourism on the other hand seems to leave the physical world of RL, for the most part, untouched. Also, instead of folding space and time, you need technologies to more or less create space and time, that is, the medium is the environment.

My first venture into SL was much like my first venture in an RL environment. I felt a bit uncomfortable, disoriented and unused to my surroundings, not exactly sure where to go or what to do, how to get there, etc. It was a learn-as-you-go kind of thing. I wandered around until I got an invitation to go to Orientation Island. I likened this to finding a sign that pointed in the direction of the visitor’s information center. I immediately met someone who was able to identify me as a tourist (or a “newbie”) because I had not yet developed my avatar. I stood out basically, which pretty much parallels my experiences of being an RL tourist. I was excited and nervous, but the feelings were shallow in comparison to my RL experiences.

Exploring a new physical environment is always engaging for me, and I was surprised that exploring SL was for the most part as engaging as exploring an RL environment. There was a lot to see, and because it was a spatial representation (as opposed to the type of virtual tourism mentioned above) I really felt like I was wandering around. Both the limits of RL and SL were brought to my attention as I explored. For one, my mode of transportation in SL was incredibly liberating. Flying and teleporting allowed for a completely open-ended and unrestricted mode of travel; as I wrote in my SL journal, “there are no physical constraints requiring me to have a destination in mind, nor a plan how to get there and back out again.” So, in a sense, I could truly wander aimlessly without any worries.

In RL travel, time and distance are of the essence and really dictate your agenda; a lot of RL travel consists of in-transit time, which means (if you are on a backpacker budget as I always am) unexpected delays, ungodly hours, crowds, uncomfortable/unsanitary accommodations, body aches, an absence of toilet paper, irritability and exhaustion, dealing with other travelers who are irritable and exhausted, dealing with locals who are irritable, exhausted and wary of tourists, and on and on and on. This is completely absent from the SL transit experience, where space has subordinated time as Shaviro might paraphrase Castells. There is no imminent danger of physical harm, whether it be from criminals, a lack of hygienic standards, a lack of safety standards, or reckless, fearless motorbike drivers. If you did for some reason feel danger (I recall another SL journal I read where someone was in a club, an avatar pulled out a gun, and fearing for their SL life they simply teleported away), “home” is just a teleport away. Being an SL tourist means being superhuman, without having to try to be superhuman (in the face of demanding circumstances), if that makes sense.

One of the things that delighted me about being an SL tourist was the lack of an ecological footprint; every time I travel in RL, I seem to make a big one. The guilt that stems from the environmental effects of the tourism industry is a guilt that many regular travelers have to deal with. Besides making an ecological footprint, you are constantly wondering about how your presence is changing things for the local communities that you interact with, and whether those changes are positive or not. My only experience in SL in which I worried that my tourism might be negatively affecting the community was when I visited a virtual sex den. Here, even though I participated in the community, my investment was purely surface level curiosity and amusement. When I was finally seriously engaged by a person of the community, I began to worry about the ethical issues and possible consequences of my presence. From my journal: “At this point, I felt guilty for being there, like I was disturbing the environment by being a curious observer and not a “real” participant. It was confusing though – on the one hand, I did technically participate despite the fact I wasn’t engaged in it the way the context of the environment suggested I should be. I was participating virtually through the actions of my avatar, and realistically by clicking with my mouse. Was I violating some sort of code of ethics? Could other avatars tell I was just a curious tourist?” In this sense, having a presence, whether in a virtual or RL context, means having influence.

I must admit, I have not done too much socializing in my exploration of SL so far. In some ways this is appropriate, because in RL I am often traveling independently and sometimes you won’t socialize with anyone for a couple of days. It can get really lonely sometimes, but I’ve found in SL, I don’t really get lonely at all. From the little I’ve gathered, the social dynamics are very similar – there is an unspoken code of conduct (as in respect), many are willing to help and many will just ignore you. There are language barriers and cultural barriers. It’s not quite the same as being an RL tourist; once you’ve developed your avatar more, you basically blend in as much as everyone else, as in, there isn’t a metaphorical tattoo on your forehead that says tourist, as is very often the case in RL.

Another thing that delighted me about SL tourism: no baggage. Physical baggage, that is. The only material object you need to explore SL is a computer, and even then, it isn’t something you have to carry around. You don’t even have to carry a camera; it’s built into the interface. On the downside, there isn’t a picture you can take without yourself in it, at least in an SL context. In fact, control of your camera, period, is extremely limited, which was something I found problematic. A large part of my RL travel experience is using my camera as a personal documentary tool; having control over the composition, depth of field, angle, aperture, etc. (essentially, my control over the photo-narrative) is an important part of documenting the experience for me, and I am rarely ever in the photographs – so this was an adjustment for me as an SL tourist. As for the landscapes and physical environments, they were quite often beautiful and different and interesting, just like in RL. The only difference was my feeling of “presence” in the environment. It had less to do with the fact that they were virtual environments, and more to do with the fact that that I was seeing them on a 2D surface, without any sensory perception other than the visual. Watching a virtual sunset just can’t compare to an RL sunset, even if it is far more beautiful (vividly, unnaturally beautiful), because my bodily senses are not engaged. This is really the biggest difference between SL and RL tourism in general. Sensory perception is limited, and when you are traveling you are not just experiencing things by socializing and looking around, but by hearing, tasting, smelling, touching, etc. Embodiment is augmented by the body, and vice versa. In the end, an SL journey can’t quite compete with…certainly can’t replace…an RL journey, for this reason.