001: Meet Roflcopter

At the ripe young age of 21, it seems as though I should not be entitled to use the phrase “back in my day.” It seems as though this expression is reserved for only the grey of hair – for those who have had the tribulations of life written on their faces and have lived to tell the tale. I, however, will use the phrase having had a mere two decades under my belt. Times are changing, indeed.

Back in my day, I blocked all use of the telephone every time I wanted to go online. I ran ten feet of wire from where my shiny new Gateway Pentium II PC was to the nearest telephone jack and proceeded to ardently defend my right to use the telephone against my parents.

Back in my day, I was impressed when I could only sort of tell how many polygons a graphic consisted of. As the son of a computer consultant, I was a gamer – and one of proper breeding, I believe. My pedigree included such classics as Descent, Doom, Hexen, and Quake. During the time I owned a P2, Blizzard Entertainment could have told me that what I really wanted out of life was to own a pink elephant (or marry Zerg Kerrigan), and I would have attempted to find one.

When it comes to technology, people might as well add seven to their actual age. Fast forward just a few short years, and what was once the joyous beeping and booping of a 56K modem connecting to the Internet had deteriorated into a coughing and sputtering more akin to some long-nailed teacher scratching a chalk board. Broadband had exploded onto the scene, and I wanted everything to do with it.

Out of this innovation, a whole new world opened up. I became giddy at the thought of my parents uttering my most detested phrase while I was growing up, “Go look it up in the dictionary.” I defied them by finding the word instantly. Eventually, the library started to look like a place filled with arcane treasures that few stopped to enjoy. Classrooms became computer labs, and I learned to type from the pressures of instant messaging despite Super Mario’s best efforts at showing me home row.

In the computer era, it seems as if experience rather than age is the more predominant indicator of how old an individual is (of course, my parents used the same argument to prevent me from driving until I was 18). Today, I have seen many of my peers fumble with their cell phones while muttering epithets against technology. Blasphemy in my opinion, but to each his own. As the children of technology, my peers and I have lived through one of the most exciting eras in terms of functional innovation. Right now, we sit precariously on the very cusp of what could turn out to be the next big thing. The Internet allows us to do many things, such as shop, learn, and connect; however, the chief complaint is lack of the human touch. For those who are unfamiliar, Linden Lab’s Second Life is a vehicle of social interaction and commerce. It is not a game in the classical sense. Within its virtual world, users create their own personas and proceed to perform all of the social customs that make us human.

I must admit, I had once attempted to “play” Second Life. Frustrated and confused at the lack of action, let me say the experience lasted about as long as it took to download the latest World of Warcraft patch. As fate would have it, Professor Bloomfield, known as Beyers Sellers to the SL community, gave a talk about Metanomics and SL in one of my classes (AEM 322!). Initially intrigued by the prospect of finding fortune in my favorite pastime, I signed on to work as a research assistant. I quickly learned that, if anything, Second Life can only be played like the game of life itself.

I hope in the coming posts, you will let me share with you a student’s perspective of working in and with Second Life and its community. If you are interested in the discussion of virtual worlds or perhaps participating in virtual skydiving…I’ll be here.

AJ Tan is a senior at Cornell University majoring in Applied Economics and Management.
He can be contacted at ant27@cornell.edu or in Second Life as “Roflcopter Robonaught.”