I just recently started playing Second Life, a massive online world in which the players themselves create most of the content. It’s amazingly addictive, and brings to mind happy memories of playing a character in the text-based online world, LambdaMOO.
One of the issues that often comes up in online worlds is that of gender. An online environment places no restriction on the gender portrayed in-world, so players are free to play the opposite gender. On his journalistic blog about Second Life, Wagner James Au posted some insights on sex and race that he received from another player, and that posting sparked a lively conversation in the blog’s comments section.
I’ve been playing female avatars in online games for years, from the early days of text-only character descriptions to the current crop of modern, 3D-rendered avatars. It started out as a social experiment; given no information about a person’s gender other than what I supplied in the avatar’s description, how would I be treated? And though I suspected it might be the case, I was shocked at how differently I was treated in-game when presenting a female avatar than when I wore a male guise. I’ve since discussed my experiences many times with female friends, who sadly relate that much of the harassment I received from overly-amorous males in game is not much different from their experiences in the real world.
There are those playing online games who have a hard time letting go of their real-world identity; they can’t make the logical jump that an online environment is fantasy, and that it is merely an extension of the real world. I suspect that many players with this problem lack maturity; this is most likely due to young age, common in many combat-oriented online games, like EverQuest or City of Heroes. Second Life enforces an over 18 age policy, so the couple of times I’ve encountered this lack of maturity it’s likely to be simple personality defect, or perhaps someone using daddy’s credit card (or Second Life account) to log on.
There is great power in being able to discard the baggage associated with one’s real-world gender, ethnicity, age, nationality, sexual preference, economic status, social class, occupation, or any other major attribute we use to categorize other human beings. Playing in a game where the people you meet are defined entirely by what they reveal in-game is a mind-expanding experience; it really makes you think long and hard about how little we pay attention to each other as individuals, and more as members of certain categories. Perhaps if more people were to experience an environment in which true equality is possible, they would be less likely to dehumanize people, treating others as individuals rather than stereotypes.
Aside from the social experiment aspect of playing a female character, I also find it an interesting challenge. I’ve enjoyed roleplaying games for years, and I like to think that I’m not half bad at defining the parameters of a character and acting within that role. It’s very rewarding for me to maintain the illusion of femininity in-game, simply for the difficulty I must overcome in watching every word I say and every action I perform to make sure they’re in-character. It’s no different than the difficulty I’d have playing an orc, a blind martial artist, or a man who can fly and throw lightning from his fingertips (all roles that I’ve played at one point or another).
The key to convincingly playing a role (cross-gender or otherwise) is finding those parts of yourself that you can extend into the performance. There’s always some aspect of me in each character, sometimes a part of myself that I wouldn’t even be aware of if I weren’t trying to act out a role. Those bits that aren’t present within you (green skin, blind fighting prowess, superpowers) can then be built on top of a template that contains elements you are familiar with. It’s both self-expression and introspection at the same time.
Second Life has picked up where text-based online worlds left off, providing a fantastic environment for deep roleplaying. I realize that not everyone is interested in putting in the effort required, and I don’t mind that many people come to online worlds simply to chat while wearing an avatar. I’ve learned over the years to politely refuse the requests for real-world gender and age. Typically, people who are obsessed about these attributes of my real life aren’t much fun to interact with in-game, anyhow; many lack imagination, and more often than not, want to use the game as some kind of dating service. But those other players who are willing to set aside their real-world persona, even for a little while, make it all worthwhile to me.
