Torley Lives

But yeah, seriously, if any newcomers ask me, "Where can I ride a train in Second Life?" I'll have to point out Media. It's an exciting, compelling use of the platform. Who doesn't like trains? Or motion? In a high-tech, totally kickass cyberpunk city?

All I was missing were the people. Because see, for any good action scene in a city atmosphere, you have to have panicking bystanders. I'm just waiting to see how long it is until some machinima buffs inquire with TESC to film an epic battle within. Wait until we get mo' physical avatars.

When I was growing up, there was some bastardized derivation of BattleTech on my Commodore 64 which I couldn't play because it required a "dongle". One thing I always remember was the steepled, angular boldness of that city. And having a certain "scene memory", I felt the same thing being invoked in me for the first time today when I zoomed in on the center of Media's mechaumbrella, and camscammed way out. You know how Andreas Johnson sings his sustained, sweeping lines in the Hybrid cut-up of "Glorious"? It's like ramen and beef balls. You have these enticing, flowing noodles, and then these chunky blobs of flesh. It's completely absurd.

Super details. It makes me wonder, okay, with the influx of talent coming inworld, I'm surprised not to see more of this. How long is it before the Keep Adding guys come in here?

I'll never say enough thankyous for being able to use World menu > Force Sun. (Remember it was in Debug?) Gosh, I turned it to midnight and dropped more lights. That's one suggestion I have: more lights at midnight. Because as you can see, hardware lighting rulez (and is underused to great aesthetic effect). All cyberpunkery, neon, flickering signs. Maybe even space hookers. Wait, scratch that. Maybe not. But at least a cheap cruddy stand in the middle of the industrial forte, with some circumspect dude selling "illegal mods". A total, glorious cliche.

Over time, I've seen all sorts of wack (meant as a compliment) types in the Welcome Area. From homeless avatars (Orhalla Zander) to derelicts outta Hellraiser (Grey Mars), to some who chose to blend in and be some sorta sculpture, like those living mannequins in stores.

So, next request: I'd like to see someone with drool sliding down their chins, eyes glazed, maybe not even much of a pulse. But they're jacked in somewhere, and on their visual peripheral display is a twisted image of Media after the war. Following the Golden Age, past the dark time, and maybe that'd also fulfil my other (one of many, actually) longstanding wish to see a rave warehouse. Maybe Media could get bombed, and the soon-to-be-refugees get into lifepods and head for another planet.

But they'll come back. This is home, after all.

Say there was something worth a lot—not a specified cash value, but of great price nonetheless—and you saw a lot of other people passing it by, not filtering it in against the noisy din of everyday life. But you see something special. You know what it's really worth. If you were in the possession of such intuitive abilities, what would you do? Consider that for a moment.

I see a lot of great up-and-coming artists in Second Life, perhaps some who don't really even have much previous experience. They work in the medium of prims, primitive building blocks. Like Legos, snap (link) enough of them together, texture and alter numerous properties, and you may have something truely special. Heck, some don't own land—they're on free accounts! Or, just not enough land to hold their many-primmed creations. So they plunk them down in public sandboxes, perhaps day after day, and may even scoot away because they're introverted.

Along comes the art collectors, recognizing not just the potential but having a very clear mental picture of what could transpire if this work was shown to the right people. Not just for the glitz of fame and fortune, but connecting someone who appreciates the art with its creator. What's so special in Second Life is you can get in touch with the people who make your fave stuff! (Being a living artist has a certain advantage.) I do it all the time. I come across some watermelony variation of furniture out in the boonies, and I send out a personal message—or at least make a mental note to later if my hands are hurting too much. Of course, it's not just about watermelons, but my senses to connect with a piece, created by someone thousands of miles away and shared through me through this computer screen, and I feedback.