The three of us spent the wee hours of Saturday night, or
Sunday morning, depending on your disposition, exploring the wonderful dork
Jackson Jacks looked like some massive Viking of questionable sexuality. Seriously, it was creepy, and as evidenced by this picture, he wasn’t afraid to show it off. And, of course, CK, never one to shy away from a little bare midriff, well, you know, showed a little, uh, skin.
We were all three very much newbies, and between CK typing anywhere but where she was supposed to, Jacks' unfortunate Mohawk, and my lack of virtual motor skills, we wore our minimal expertise on our sleeves.
It does strike me as comparable to an advanced version of the Sims, but with real people. Or really virtual people. I’m not sure if my first life allows too much extra time to begin a second one, but it clearly has marketing implications all over it. There’s no question that we don’t connect so linearly as we once did. Geographic boundaries don’t necessarily provide relationship boxes like ten year olds on the same cul-de-sac.
But, it’s still hard to put your finger on. It’s clear that just because this life is virtual, doesn’t mean that SL citizens care any less about them. If we treat second life like we’ve already treated the original one, one of two things will happen; there will be no more Second Life, or no more us in Second Life, one or the other.
So, at this point, I’ll just enjoy perusing the Crayon offices a bit more, and figuring out what’s what with my new favorite “sort of” real people, CK Emoto and Jackson Jacks. If you’d like to find me, this is Dallas Dibou, and I’ve officially blogged about Second Life, which makes me just a little dorkier and just a little smarter. And I’m good with both.