On Virtual Travel

Why would a denizen of a virtual world want to cross over into another virtual world, especially if she couldn’t bring her special powers, skills, or goods into that other world?  This was the question asked in a comment the other day:  http://weblawg.costinmedia.com/wp/legal-explorations/laws-for-the-virtual-universe/comment-page-1/#comment-3604

There are many examples of the attachment a player feels for his character in a role playing game, and there are also analogies in meatspace that are helpful.  There are two questions being asked above.  One is, why would a player want a character to cross between worlds?  Implicit within this is the question of whether the player wishes bi-directional movement between worlds.  The second question is, which of the character’s unique details in one world is the player willing to forego for the privilege of crossing over?

I’m using the word “player” to refer both to game players and users of non-game virtual worlds, by the way.  Players feel a connection to the characters they create, and this connection is related to the investment they put into the persona development of that character.  I’ll start by looking at character development in games not mediated by computers.  Let’s compare Monopoly and Dungeons & Dragons.  In Monopoly, if the game unexpectedly ends, the greatest loss you’re likely to feel is related to how much time, work, and luck went into acquiring your virtual property.  You didn’t create a unique character; you didn’t develop a persona for the wheelbarrow different from other wheelbarrow personae created by other players who’ve represented themselves by that playing piece.

By contrast, many players of role-playing games such as Dungeons & Dragons will create variations on a character in several different games.  It’s not about the spells your character can cast, the swords your character carries, or the amount of gold your character hoards.  Though these are aspects of a given campaign, which can last years of game play, it is the development of the persona that is the player’s real investment.  Why else would a given player consider playing several versions of the same character in different games?  My evidence for this is of course anecdotal, but statistical significance is not relevant.  What is relevant is that in an open game – one that is loosely scripted if there is any script at all – the player cares about the psychological creation of the character.  It is, in a sense, an offspring-like creation of him- or herself.

This carries over into computer-mediated games.  If you’re playing a highly scripted game like Halo, your connection to the game is through the attainment of levels and acquisition of in-game goods.  There is no character development as we all play Master Chief.  On the other hand, if you create a character named “Abexus” in World of Warcraft who is one of a limited number of classes, it doesn’t matter the limit on the number of available character classes or the loose scripts of the game, it is the character himself who matters to you.  As long as Abexus is alive in the game, he matters to you.  Even if he loses everything and has much to start again, he has a personal history, which you – the player – have created for him.  Master Chief is a tool through which you achieve set goals in Halo; Abexus is a character through whom you express a creative impulse.

But there is no doubt that part of the attachment to the character is the accomplishment of the character.  The character acquires skills, virtual goods, points, levels, status, etc., within the game space.  Why leave that behind to switch to another world?  Does the persona matter that much?

People leave countries all the time, in search of a different life.  It is not always a case of being a refugee, or even a permanent change.  A wealthy lawyer in France may choose to move, even temporarily, to San Francisco to become a software developer.  She may not bring her wealth out of France, due to French laws.  She may not practise law in California, due to California laws.  If she is not yet a software developer, she will begin there at the lowest level.  But she may choose to regardless.  After a while, she may return to France, or may choose to spend half the year in each place, living two lives but with a single personality.  Though such adventure is beyond most of us, it need not be in virtual spaces.  For the same reason players create characters for virtual spaces that are beyond scripted games, which is the opportunity to explore a different, perhaps more exciting, life, they may want to then take those developed virtual personae and travel with them.

The possibility of travel between virtual worlds need not be limited to the ability of a player to create multiple characters – even if they are similar – for multiple worlds.  The personal history created for a particular character is as portable as that character’s persona, and could be even richer if other characters’ histories that are intertwined also travel between worlds.  That travel then becomes part of the history.  Anyone who has lived significant parts of their lives in different places knows that those two lives are only connected in his or her mind, until others from one life become part of the other as well.  The narrative of that travel is expressed through a shared lexicon of experiences, and externalized.  And are not narrative and persona(l) development among the chief reasons for open-concept virtual worlds?