Joe Essid directs the Writing Center at the University of Richmond, where he teaches courses in writing and literature. He is a Richmond native who attended the University of Virginia and earned a Master's and PhD at Indiana University. His research interests include technology in the classroom and Southern literary humor. His academic writing has appeared in Computers and Humanities, The Writing Lab Newsletter, and anthologies about technology and writing. He is a contributor to Style Weekly and has appeared in Eighty One and RVA. Ignatius Onomatopoeia is the "avatar" who represents Joe in the game-world Second Life. Ignatius will be wandering the virtual terrain of Second Life while his creator writes here about what may be either "the next big thing" for the Internet or the latest darling of the cyber-hip... the reader can decide.
E-mail contact: jessid@mac.com | Web address: writing2.richmond.edu/jessid

Location: Sandbox Island

A house just fell on me.  Then cars started to rain out of the sky.  I am buried by the word “HELLO!“ in letters the size of garage-doors.

Public Sandboxes permit items to be made and modified.  I did not know, however, that in a Sandbox I’d be attacked by players with the power, and immaturity, of newly minted gods.  I only wanted to make a little content of my own. . .creating items makes SL a unique gaming experience.  Early on, Linden Labs decided that the players would be the world-creators.

I was also hoping to drive a white moon-buggy that I’d found in a “Free Stuff” store on Orientation Island.  I drove to a group of avatars waving their arms and making things—big things—out of thin air.  A house tumbled by. . .tossed between two avatars like a baseball.

“Tsunami!“ a female avatar typed.  The big wave washed over me, without sweeping me away.  “Cruise Ship!“ she next yelled, dropping a gigantic boat on me.  I had to crawl out from underneath; my buggy was stuck.

Was she flirting? I stood up and typed in her direction.

“Duck?“  I have always wanted someone to yell it, so I could ask “Where?“

She replied “No duck. Buffalo!“ and in a cloud of dust, a stampede was upon me.

When the dust cleared, I hopped on a free motorcycle and roared off, pursued by Linden knows what.  A woman like that is dangerous. . .

Location: Memory Bazaar, Mainland

Once newbies arrive on the Mainland, many of them head straight to the shopping malls or casinos.  This type of commerce may be so popular because most players do not have the skills, interest, or creativity to make their own items in designated “Sandboxes” where the game’s powerful creation tools can be used freely. 

It took me about 15 minutes to sweat out a free pair of sunglasses that way.

To buy anything, an avatar needs Lindens, the in-world currency purchased, like poker chips, with the real thing. On the day I arrived from Orientation Island, over one million real dollars had been spent to purchase just under 300 million Lindens.

Some poor avatars eke out a living of sorts by dancing or even standing on predetermined spots in clubs. This “activity” brings in other customers, the logic goes. . .I tried it and made no money at all.

In my inventory, I already have my sunglasses and these free items: three cars, one motorcycle, two houses, a tuxedo, some furniture, and a cup of coffee.  Oh, and the Prince-Charming outfit, but we won’t talk about that one now. . .it looks as creepy as a certain royal-themed fast-food mascot.

Location: Memory Bazaar, Mainland

I teleported into Second Life’s mainland and right away ran into a party store selling a to-scale pyramid and sphinx and another shop selling racy outfits for avatars.  Newcomers are popping in all around me; a few have the first name “Swedish Ambassador.“ For a moment I think it could be a real title.  Sweden was the first nation to open a virtual embassy in Second Life.

Then I see that one “ambassador” is wearing a red sports-car around his waist, like a belt.  He has a punk’s spiked hair and his legs come through the bottom of the car: this is Salvador Dali’s interpretation of Fred Flintstone.

Newbie: he found a free car in one of the Sandboxes (this concept merits its own entry) and has not figured out how to drive it yet.

Oh, yeah. I’m going to love this place.  I have found my first free item (more on this later, too): a cup of coffee. Time to sip and walk around with the Anime ninjas, fuzzy animals, Goth lords and ladies, and bland, bone-stock avatars just off Orientation Island.