“The Closing of the Alt Frontier” is going to be a discussion of sex, lies, identity, social media and trust. But,the juicy bits are going to come at the end of a road, one that begins with one of the most famous speeches in the history of American History. I promise few of you will die of dysentery along the way, so, yeehaw, let’s ride!

SL, The Final Frontier

In 1893 a young scholar named Frederick Jackson Turner delivered a speech that historians of America have engaged with – approvingly, critically, mockingly, tiredly, repeatedly – ever since. Turner said,

“The peculiarity of American institutions is the fact that they have been compelled to adapt themselves to the changes of an expanding people – to the changes involved in crossing a continent, in winning a wilderness, and in developing at each are of this progress out of the primitive economic and political conditions of the frontier into the complexity of city life… Thus American development has exhibited not merely advance along a single line, but a return to primitive conditions on a continually advancing frontier line, and a new development for that area…. This perennial rebirth, this fluidity of American life, this expansion westward with its new opportunities, its continuous touch with the simplicity of primitive society, furnish the forces dominating the American character.”

There’s no more quintessential expression of that American character than Second Life, from its very name. It’s been a place to reinvent oneself, to find and manifest one’s true nature free of the constraints of life back in the metropolis, to start fresh – all the things that the communities of the Western frontier provided migrants of centuries past.

In 2008, Mitch Kapor, chairman of the board of Linden Lab, owners of Second Life, declared its frontier closed. He’s someone who knows a thing or two about the concept, having founded the Electronic Frontier Foundation back when the Internet was still an open frontier space.

Just as Turner’s declaration came long before the last traces of frontier life vanished from America (with the continuing exception of the Arizona state legislature), Kapor’s came before the closing of the frontier became an inescapable social reality. That time may be at hand now.

Trust Systems: The Frontier and the Metropolis

Here’s what we all learned in class the other day, myself as much as the students – there’s nothing like a discussion with 25 bright, engaged people from diverse backgrounds for honing ideas.

Trust issues are not tremendously complicated within communities, especially frontier communities. In them, trust is largely a product of personal behavior broadly known – of reputation from direct dealings. While it can be damaged by “identity theft” and other means, it’s not terribly complicated or controversial.

Trust systems in the metropolis – the big, sophisticated world that frontier pioneers have fled – are also fairly straightforward. They’re designed to achieve the same ends as the systems of the frontier: holding people accountable for their actions, determining if someone will do what they say they can do, ensuring consistency of outcomes in dealings. But instead of being reputation-based, they’re document-based. They use third parties, not personal experience.

In short, on the frontier, I am who I say I am. If you want to know whether I will do what I say I’m going to, ask the people around who I’ve dealt with. In the metropolis, I am who my identity card says I am, whatever I may think about the matter. If you want to know whether I’m going to do what I said I’ll do, look to my degrees, my certifications, my credit report. Personal reputation still matters at the margins, but personal contact is often used to verify the authenticity of documents, not to learn about the person.

Both systems work pretty well. Problems come when you try to establish trust across communities using these different systems, or communities holding different values.

This happens in SL all the time. However, it’s often treated as a special case, drawing on the academic concept of “the magic circle,” which is actually utterly irrelevant, I think. Clashes stem from the failure of negotiation of reputation and identity across two communities, RL and SL.

Many SL “Residents” consider the valid culture for reputation and identity to be SL itself, the frontier town. In frontier values, nobody cares whether you were prince or pauper in the Old Country, only how you act and what you do on the frontier.

Many, however, don’t, and want to use metropolitan tools for measuring reputation and identity: documents, certificates, credentials, the tools of a mass, not a frontier, culture.

Much of the social history of SL from 2005 to 2008 came from that conflict of reputational tools.

Next up: “Part 2 – Passing or Clashing?” and “Part 3 – if code is law, code monkeys are rewriting our constitution!”

Dear Student:

No, you’re not any one of my students in particular: this song isn’t about you. But you are a composite. You’ve asked me a set of questions about virtual worlds, ones that I haven’t been able to answer satisfactorily for either of us. I’m going to try again here, and see if a day’s reflection and consultation can make a difference.

You’ve made some observations and asked some questions that I think sum up as, you’re not readily connecting with the space and don’t see why you should learn it. I think what underlies your (very legitimate) questions is, you’re in the Trough of Noobery, and it sucks to be there.

I said in the first class that there are three reasons for studying governance of virtual worlds: as a model, a small-scale online reproduction of larger and more complex offline phenomena; as a convenient nexus of offline political, economic, legal and cultural forces, all interesting in their own right; and as a potential source for innovations that might transform offline institutions.

Let’s talk about the model. What I’m having you do is model an experience many of you will have in your professional lives, not least of all those of you who want to practice law: entering into a new field, leaning what it’s about and what’s important, earning respect among the people in that field, and being able to make meaning within it.

We all do this throughout our lives, from starting at a new school or job, moving to a new town, picking up a craft or hobby. Those things are either inevitable or freely chosen: your parents got relocated, and you were dragged along, or you decided you really want to spend your evenings learning luge, or Thai cooking. In both cases, theory and methodology really don’t help: you’re either fine, or stuck, without them. Desperation or desire will propel you out of the Trough of Noobery sooner or later.

But the professional case, the one we’re modeling in this class, is an intermediate: somewhere between compulsion and desire, tools come in handy for navigating your way down the the road to Leetville.

So far, you’ve read insiders’ views and outsiders’ views, academic articles, works of in-depth journalism, newspaper articles and blogs. You’ve gotten a bit of political science, anthropology, economics and law.  These intellectual tools, we think, are good and useful, but mostly for people who’re already out of the Trough of Noobery and rolling down the road to Leetville. You’re not there yet, and telling the political scientists and economists to get out and push isn’t getting you the momentum to get out of the Trough.

You have to do that.

You have to be a noob, and you have to keep going through that till you reach comfort and fluency on the road to Leetville.

We haven’t stressed this enough in class, in part because we’re really not sure how to approach it (and pretty sure, from keeping up with the field, that nobody’s really sure), but what we want you to be able to do by the end of the semester is to be able to make meaning convincingly and coherently, at a graduate-appropriate level, in a game world and a social world.

That’s why we’re suggesting alternatives to the traditional seminar paper: we’re confident you know how to make meaning in school. You’ve had a lot of practice at that. What we want you to do is enter into a new field, figure it out, and “read” (understand what people are saying, and what they mean by it) and “write” (create something that people in the space consider meaningful and useful) in it.

Much of legal practice is built around this skill set. A client comes to you with a problem. You need to understand what it is they do well enough to understand the problem in their terms. Then you have to sort through your knowledge of the law, figure out what applies and what doesn’t, and then (ideally) translate that in terms that the client can understand, so they know what the law expects of them. Then, you have to explain the situation, to a judge (who doesn’t know anything about the client’s business or situation), a jury (who doesn’t know anything about either the law or the client’s situation), or a potential investor (who understands finance, but not the law or the client).

That’s some very sophisticated “reading” and “writing” across a range of very different, mutually ignorant, communities.

That’s the skill set we’re hoping to train you in, in this class. We’re not here to get you to develop a hobby, or to share our hobbies. We don’t much care if you like either world we’re using, or if you like virtual worlds at all, at this point. We do care that we do a good job teaching you, and you do a good job learning, how to enter into a technologically-bounded space and become literate within it.

So what can you do to get past noob-hood and come out literate?

My PhD program faces the same sets of issues: how to take a bunch of lazy noobs and get them making meaning in their academic field. One of the things they’ve done is to create a mandatory 1-credit course, in which we have to attend an on-campus academic talk every week, like it or not.  It sucks, and I whine, but it works.

We’re not going to mandate time inworld, or that you attend one event a week. We didn’t establish those ground rules, and we’re not going to change the rules in mid-game. But if you want to do well, if you want to achieve literacy, try this:

This week:

  • Go to one of the freebie stores on the notecard we gave you. Get some clothes and change into them.
  • Go to one of the events on the weekly recommendations. No, go to two, one academic/professional and one social, like a live music event.
  • Talk to strangers until you’ve found someone you’d like to add to your friends list.

That’s the advice for SL. The advice for WoW is much the same: level to 15 or so, and join a pickup group to fight (not get run though, fight), Ragefire Chasm. Or click the PvP button and join a battleground. Or join a pickup group to quest for a couple hours. Buy and sell a green item in the Auction House. Raise your professions and at least one of cooking, fishing or first aid to equal your defense level.

Do that, and you’ll be out of the Trough of Noobery and well on your way to Leetville – and to success in the class.

We’ve had our first session of LAW 791/EDT 791, Governance of Virtual Worlds, and run an orientation session in each of Second Life and World of Warcraft. As so many people in this space discover, a lot of our expectations were off. Here’s some preliminary observations.

One of the great surprises of the course so far is how technologically sophisticated the bulk of our students are. From graduate classes in the games/virtual worlds field, I’d been led to expect a lot of unfamiliarity and discomfort with the basics. We’d prepared detailed manuals on software installation and account creation, set aside time to work with students individually to get them set up – and didn’t need to at all. Only one student so far (out of 27) has asked for help with account setup – and he encountered a strange bug.

A majority of the students had played WoW before, and a substantial minority identified themselves as longtime gamers. None had significant SL experience. Only a few are entirely new to games/virtual worlds.

And that raises some interesting teaching challenges: we’d designed the class on the expectation of the bell-curve distribution of graduate classes: a very few veterans, a great many new but engaged people, and a few who end up not liking or connecting with the spaces. Particularly in a class where one of the major projects is to create and maintain an online community (here a WoW guild), the level of expertise really changes the dynamic.

Rather than encouraging people to explore in the deep end, it’s entirely possible we’ll have a core with such firm expectations of how things are done, that getting them to examine and question common practices may well be our biggest challenge.

On the SL side, I worked on Friday with three students, two brand new to the space. We went to the IBM Research sandbox, where thanks to the kindness and generosity of IBM, and IBM’s Zha Ewry in particular, we have build rights for the semester. I showed them the first steps of building – object rezzing, transformation, texturing – and they were all over it, rapidly catching on and playing with advanced transformations. One student discovered scripting for himself, and had his glowing orange donut talking smack at us, while another flew around on his tractor. They ended the session positive and engaged, and I ended with a list of much more advanced opportunities to line up for them.

When I spoke at the SmarterTechnologies discussion series a few weeks ago, one of the questions was, “It seems that law schools and law students are much more open to VWs – is that the case, and if so, why?”

It does seem to me to be the case, and to extend to technology usage in general. I was shocked to find that students in my science and technology studies classes didn’t use – and didn’t particularly like – computing and communications tech, while it was universal among law students. Grad students in my VW courses have seemed, overall, more unfamiliar and uncomfortable with the spaces and tools.

An attorney friend suggested that one dynamic in this class may be that law students are less willing to risk taking classes far outside their area of knowledge and interest, while grad students are much more willing to do so. So, we have a large core of law students who know the games/VW space fairly well, and some grad students who’re going out on a limb to learn something new. Could be.

Another possibility is, the students who are least comfortable haven’t sought us out in our early orientation sessions. We’ll see what next week brings there. In the meantime, I’m looking to line up SL building tutors and watching as students bring over their raiding alts. It’s not going to be a dry or predictable semester….

Yesterday I gave my first academic/professional talk in Second Life.

I’d been invited to participate in the Smarter Technology Virtual Conference Center series, a Ziff-Davis Publishing enterprise sole-sponsored by IBM. I’ve been a frequent attendee at the Smarter Technology events: they’re unfailingly first-rate in speaker quality and technical execution (which is often a problem for events managers in SL). For my money, the Smarter Technology series is vastly superior to the better-known, and more self-hyped, Metanomics series. So, I was deeply honored to be invited to speak.

I had just about exactly a day to prepare a talk and slide deck entitled “Virtual World Governance,” on both the concept  and on the upcoming course I’ll be co-teaching on the subject. In adapting to the medium, my PowerPoint presentation had fewer slides and fewer images than I’d use for a physical-world presentation, and used black text on white for easier visibility inworld, rather than the light text on dark that I prefer to cut projector glare. [EDIT: here's the slide set]

I wasn’t nervous – I’ve been doing public speaking regularly, sometimes daily, for over 30 years, and I was headed to a familiar venue, audience and moderator. I was hugely preoccupied by some work stuff, but a good friend came over to amuse and distract me beforehand, so I was all primed and ready to go.

Except, I’ve had constant ongoing issues with plugging my USB headphones into my laptop: often Vista thinks they’re there and in use, but my mic doesn’t actually work, and my laptop speakers are still engaged. Of course, that happened, and it took a couple reboots, and then some fiddling with voice in SL before everything was working. Thankfully, we got sorted right at the top of the hour, and from there everything went smoothly.

Doing the event in voice was a *lot* less immersive than using text chat. I found it was much more like doing a radio interview: I was mostly mentally “present” in my home office space, gesticulating, moving around, grabbing books for reference, at one point leaving my wireless mouse across the room. Rather than swimming in the sea of backchannel audience text chat, I found myself dipping in to try to catch up at pauses. The backchannel chatlog runs 15 pages of single-spaced 10-point type, and I caught about 15% of it. I was able to pull comments and questions from chat and respond, though, so in all there was a pretty decent conversation involving the audience.

In all, though, “speaker in voice, attendees in text” really is the best way to do an event like this: it’s really not possible to do a coherent presentation in text chat, when you’re just one voice coequal with everybody else’s, whose comments are interspersed among yours. The hybrid form still allows a clear delivery of the speaker’s message, while enabling an open conversation much more than physical-world events can.

I’d timed my material just right, which was a bit of good fortune, to deliver a full hour of presentation and great conversation. I met some terrifically interesting new people, who I’m eager to follow up with.

Special thanks to friends and colleagues Sinnyo Wirefly, Bo Geddins, Zha Ewry, Rose Springvale and Chimera Cosmos for their presence and encouragement!

We’ve been invited back for an update on the class later in the semester, with the suggestion to bring a few of our students along. That should make for a fascinating event, and I’m looking forward to it.

(photo of me by Dewey Jung – thank you!)

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