by Margaret Moser
The
wedding was, as
weddings go, just lovely. In the medieval chapel, the seductive Warrior
Princess was outfitted in a white velvet, 15th-century-style gown. The groom,
ShadowSlayerX, was a demon knight of untold strength and powers. The minister,
an Irish bard, had been tippling beforehand and lurched unsteadily to the
pulpit. The mermaid of honor, Nyad DeLaMer, led the procession down the aisle
escorted by a cyberpunk groomsman. They were followed by a languid vampire
named Maharet of Cairo on the arm of a Viking warlord, and a mortal named
Gwynnafaire with her knight, Lord Evenheart.
Gwynnafaire inhaled her fragrant bridesmaid bouquet and straightened the
wreath on her head. She dimpled flirtatiously at Evenheart as he stood rigidly
across from her, resplendent in Cavalier uniform. The minister cleared his
throat as the wedding party took their places, and began the ceremony.
Glancing around, Gwynn looked for familiar faces, and smiled at her ex-lover
Bronzewolf80, present in half-man/half-wolf form. As a barkeep at Thee Tavern
where the couple had met, she knew most of the guests, generally a well-behaved
lot. Not threatening, like the shape-shifters or the warriors from the third
dimension who sometimes frequented the tavern. Or like that mercenary
BaronZDaemon, who had let his baby dragon loose to wreak havoc the week before.
Sometimes full-scale intergalactic and time-warp warfare erupted in front of
her very eyes.
Lord Evenheart was not quite as happy at the festivities. There was a
persistent rumor that the Dark Force Assassins had put a price upon the head of
his lady love, Gwynn, that she was to be abducted and taken to the blighted
marshes of the assassins’ homeland to dwell in misery as the bride of the evil
Overlord Krakon. Evenheart frowned: not as long as he was alive.
Evenheart assessed his strengths, dexterities, and skills, making a mental note
to talk to BronzeWolf80 and his fellow warriors, perhaps challenging the
assassins on Gwynn’s honor.
But even the rumbles of war couldn’t dampen the joyous reception at the
banquet hall. Outside, intergalactic vehicles were parked away from the coaches
to keep from frightening the horses and unicorns, who were already spooked by
the dragons. Inside, the guests mingled space helmet to armored visor,
lightsword to scimitar, as a sorceror was doing magick by the fireplace. Sir
Evenheart conjured two glasses of champagne from thin air, toasted the
newlyweds, then whispered that they should slip out to the Rose Garden. Gwynn
smiled and nodded yes, as several in the crowd noticed the barkeep slipping
outside with her dashing lord. Medieval life is never dull in 21st Century
Cyberia.
In cyber-
space, stepping into another character (or even gender) is an everyday
occurrence. In real life, the wedding described above meant that about 23
people across America logged onto a computer at a specific time with the intent
of participating in the invitation-only ceremony as a kind of unscripted,
living play. There were people representing the bride, groom, minister, three
groomsmen, three bridesmaids, and the guests. The wedding was conducted like
any non-denominational wedding, and the reception was as spirited as those
events are wont to be.
What’s so fascinating is that each of these participants, who have never met
each other, had created screen personas and related to each other as if they
were genuine family and friends. They were regulars at Thee Tavern in America
Online’s People Connection forum, and had developed a rapport that so mimicked
everyday life, even petty jealousies and rivalries make themselves evident. The
relationships were as complex as if the events were real. At any given moment,
there are romances and flirtations, seduction and deceit, duels and battles —
and the online occasions of weddings and funerals are attended by the magic of
imagination.
Online role-playing is the natural progression from an actual game like Dungeons & Dragons and re-enactment organizations such as the Society
for Creative Anachronisms. Whether doing strict role-play gaming, adapting an
SCA character (see glossary sidebar for expanded definitions of all acronyms)
to the screen, employing the GURPS method, entering the Internet’s MUDs, or
simply creating another identity, role-playing has a new dimension, and it’s
definitely not just for nerds anymore.
Role-playing in the Net and through computer services such as CompuServe and
especially America Online is one of the fastest-growing forms of online
entertainment: Cyberia, it seems, is next to heaven. The Internet’s MUDs —
multi-user domains (or dungeons, as they were first associated with
D&D players) provide endless themes for character development with
the added bonus of three-dimensional graphic capacity. But the most compelling
aspect of it comes not through graphics but as typed text that creates an
ongoing dialogue between characters, best demonstrated by America Online and
its People Connection.
In the People Connection, the computer screen shows a constant scroll of
dialogue in any given room, but its Instant Message (IM) capacity allows two
people to speak to each other privately if they choose, even while interacting
publicly. Public “rooms” called the Red Dragon Inn are a kind of online Star
Wars Cantina, providing interaction between space travelers, wild west
heroes, renaissance knights, cyberpunks, super heroes, and otherworldly
characters. The RDI is a “public” room created by AOL, and its popularity is
such that it may “exist” four or five times more online, depending on demand.
But Thee Tavern (not its actual online name) is a “member” room, meaning that
it is created and run by AOL subscribers. Likewise, other member-created rooms
like Magic: The Gathering offers players of that card game an interactive
forum, as The Masquerade does the same for players of Vampire: The
Masquerade, and the Wolf’s Lodge does for Werewolf: The Apocalypse.
Although gamers enter Thee Tavern, it is largely an online social setting for
role-playing.
Actual role-play games on AOL offer a myriad of ways for characters to express
themselves in its RPG forum. Advanced Dungeon & Dragons, Call of
Cthulhu, Cyberpunk 2020, D.C. Heroes, Dungeons & Dragons, Mage: The
Ascension, Marvel Super Heroes, Middle Earth, Star Wars, Toon, Underground,
Vampire: The Masquerade, and Werewolf: The Apocalypse are a few of
the scheduled games available to be joined. But many prefer to incorporate the
GURPS approach developed by Austin’s Steve Jackson Games. (Considering that the
GURPS series was designed merely to give common ground to as many games as
possible, it is impressively adaptable to the screen.) Some visitors to these
rooms simply customize rules from games like AD&D and WTA,
while some have merely assumed an identity and character based on books read or
a popular character from history — witness the numerous Lestats and
Lancelots.
If this sounds time-consuming, it is. This is the game that moves as you play
out scenarios that are improvised on the spot. People spend hours online
perfecting their characters, acting with one another, and yes, familiarity
breeds everything from enmity to love. In Thee Tavern, hearts are wooed and
broken on a regular basis, and the per-hour rate can start to add up. That’s
one reason more people are turning to local Internet access services. While a
service like America Online charges a monthly rate and a per-hour rate on top
of that, a local Internet access can offer a flat per-month rate with unlimited
access.
Is absorption in character
role-playing healthy? The possibilities for creative outlet via role-playing
are numerous and may be used positively for personal transformation, says MIT
sociologist Sherry Turkle. She examines this phenomenon of cyberlife in a book
called Life on the Screen: Identity in the Age of the Internet. Life
on the Screen reaches beyond the conventional wisdom that computers revived
the art of correspondence via e-mail and to the notion that screen identities
as a social outlet are neither unnatural or unhealthy. Ten years ago, Turkle
examined the deepening relationship between people and their computers in
The Second Self: Computers and the Human Spirit. In Life on the
Screen, she explores that phenomenon 10 years after its publication, with
attendant evolution in the context of creating screen personas.
To Turkle, the adoption of screen identities is simply an extension of self in
the cyberworld, and (bearing in mind anything can be taken to extreme) a
perfectly healthy one. Although her research was based more on the Internet
than AOL, her conclusions are positive and enlightening: The computer is not
the cold, unfeeling beast it is often portrayed to be. At a time when many
people feel trapped in their environments — afraid of the streets at night, in
dorm rooms or in a medical facility, limited by physical capacity or merely
socially inept — the light of a computer screen is as warm and familiar as a
fireplace or television.
Beyond Turkle’s academic analysis of this phenomenon, though, is the desire
within each of us to be seen for more than what our physical selves represent.
The computer’s capacity for offering this outlet is as legitimate as any
traditional outlet, as hobbies go, and is only limited by imagination. That’s
why I leave an enormously gratifying and creative IRL job, and rush home to
lace my bodice and bartend online at night. Why wait for Halloween to don a
mask? In Cyberia, it is simple to create another world, another place, and
another time, with just a keystroke.
Back at Thee Tavern, life goes on. The newlyweds are expecting, the Dark
Forces have been silent, and Gwynnafaire broke up with Evenheart to go back
with Bronzewolf80. When the computer screen goes dark, one thing is still
virtually clear: Online, you are who you pretend to be. n
This article appears in December 15 • 1995 and December 15 • 1995 (Cover).