Icarus Studios News

(Continued from Part 2)

The word “avatar” has some pretty heavy connotations—the term definitely comes with plenty of baggage. Once upon a time, an avatar literally meant “an embodiment (as of a concept or philosophy) often in a person.” These days, it’s the term for “an electronic image that represents and is manipulated by a computer user.” The power of the word sort of implies that every programmable or visible change the user makes while in a digitized environment is a psychological (or philosophical) representation of themselves, no matter what their intentions might have actually been. Is the cursor I'm using to write this post a psychological representation of me? I'm using it to express something, but the cursor itself says nothing about my identity. I can write a story which explores aspects of a character whose traits I don’t happen to share. But as soon as that character turns into an avatar, which I am controlling via a tangible device, suddenly people expect that I am responsible for and represented by my avatar—as if we’re tainted by association or painted with the same brush. No matter how often I may say, “This isn’t me; it’s just a character!” most people will still believe that my avatar is an extension of some part of myself. Users are often held responsible for their online identities, even in role-play or hypothetical debate, when the same is not as often true of an author who pens particularly shocking fiction.

Because the decisions for the avatar’s movements and game-play choices are typically made in real time by the user, it seems rational to ascribe to the notion that the avatar is the user. However, instructions sent to an avatar are often very limited and repetitious. Interaction with the world often hinges on an unrealistic, exaggerated system of rewards. Many times, the game is pointedly dissimilar from reality and seeks to promote itself as a completely separate space, beyond the constraints and expectations of real life. While relaxing, cathartic, and amusing, these aspects don’t really serve a very exploratory, expressive, or character-driven experience. (Single-player worlds in particular can offer fascinating glimpses into rich environments, but interactions within the world operate under strict boundaries. Single-players are focused on the correct ways to solve technical problems, rather than on the larger questions of identity and relation.)

Do these limitations make video games undesirable as experiences? No. Not at all, but I’d assert that our current games shouldn't be treated as if they are outlets for unlimited self-expression, no matter how “massive” the social element, and that doing so might be a disservice to the product. (Often for business and technical reasons, single-player games do offer more tools for a player to explore larger issues, but even those options are severely restricted and witnessed only by that one player, so the expression cannot be quantified, validated, and completed). I’d also assert that expression, while sometimes defining the self, doesn't always have to be about identity. If you want to explore all possible traits, appearances, and behaviors of various characters for the purpose of defining and expressing yourself, then creating a fictional book or movie will give you the most freedom and control. In a virtual world—especially a massive multiplayer game where you could end up interacting with thousands of other players at any given time, all of whom have their own missions, ethics, and preferences—sure, there’s a little bit of fun in being able to control your virtual appearance or adopt a new persona, but the real payoff lies in the external experience.

-Miri Funderburk, Virtual Worlds Team