Real Worlds, Virtual Logic

Last week I focused on the glaring artificiality of virtual actors and environments. This week, I intend to reverse that focus in order to consider the confusing imbrications between virtual spaces and reality itself. Since we live in an age where highly customizable virtual representations and spaces are becoming increasingly sophisticated, it is important to consider the following question. What do our current interactions with manipulable simulacra already indicate and how might these interactions change if those simulacra were to lose any discernible mark of artificiality?

One possibility is that nothing would dramatically change. The fundamental desires that have always impelled these interactions would remain, only they would be more keenly felt and more morally questionable. In fact, these desires (for control, excessive manipulation and satisfied subversive urges) can be traced from our current forms of manipulable simulacra (i.e., puppeteering the virtual actors of Final Fantasy) to the less artificial game worlds we see in Gamer and eXistenZ. Those latter two films indicate that, even if the artificiality of our virtual creations were to be more or less purged, the baseline logic and motivations that compelled us to interact with those creations in the first place may become all the more pronounced and deplorable.

In the diegetic ‘game worlds’ that Gamer and eXistenZ establish, the mark of artificiality is subdued into something elusive or simply nonexistent. In Gamer‘s case, the blatantly synthetic quality of the virtual spaces we are used to (i.e., video-games, CGI-enhanced films, modern-day MUDs like Second Life) are eliminated but their capacity for control and manipulation is retained. Basically, Gamer‘s diegetic reality co-opts the rationale of our virtual spaces. Thus — real worlds, virtual logic. Moreover, by turning the manipulatable stimuli of our video-games into flesh and blood people, the Uncanny Valley suddenly becomes a moot issue. The downside? As one of the characters insists in the trailer for Stay Alive, “When you die in the game, you die for real!”

eXistenZ similarly refuses to foreground the artificiality of its game world (in terms of its diegetic universe). In “‘Still in the Game’: Cybertransformations of the ‘New Flesh’ in David Cronenberg’s eXistenZ“, Lia M. Hotchkiss notes the following:

“This melding of the technical and the natural appears in the matter-of-factness with which the games of transCendeZ and eXistenZ portray the use of neural webbing grown from fertilized amphibian eggs stuffed with synthetic DNA and the harvesting of mutated amphibians for, on the one hand, lively technical devices such as game pods and, on the other, a rather outré lunch. The cheerful fascination with which Gellar regards a two-headed salamander as a ‘sign of the times’ resonates on several levels” (25-26).

Moreover, the salamander “blends in seamlessly with the landscape as a new creature of the environment rather than a spectacular defiance of such physical fundamentals as gravity” which Hotchkiss views as a “philosophically thoughtful use of special effects to create a diegetic world that portrays the collapse of the nature/culture split that Canguilhem and Rabinhow are positing” (26). Thus, the salamander is not an incongruent augmentation, but an accepted component to an existence where the line between the ‘real’ and the synthetic is quite nebulous. The salamander isn’t there to function as an eyesore that gives the lie to the ‘real’ world of eXistenZ nor does it automatically guarantee those world(s) are synthetic. As Hotchkiss indicates, the film views the binary of the real and the virtual as being more problematic. Thus, the salamander becomes indicative of reality’s “ability to be superseded, embedded, arbitrary, and above all, determined by representation” (28). Moreover, it recalls the fact that the game worlds in the film refuse “to stabilize any frame of reference as definitively real” (24). eXistenZ thereby insists that the polarities of the real and the synthetic have become increasingly imbricated and permeable, and it has thereby become much harder to make a distinction between them. Transcendence is impossible. In its place lies a perpetual uncertainty as to what constitutes the real and the virtual.

However, it is this very distinction that allows people to vicariously direct their ostensibly subversive desires through virtual outlets. Thus, violence by proxy is made available through a game like Gears of War (or other more controversial ones) and The Sims grants players pseudo-omniscience and control over their subservient avatars (as Gas gleefully declares in eXistenZ, “God — the mechanic!”). In the scenarios that Gamer and eXistenZ propose, the virtual subjects and worlds that we submit to our vicarious whims have become indistinguishable from material reality. The perceptual consequences of such a scenario are both fascinating and troubling. For instance, recall how eXistenZ‘s Allegra Gellar (Jennifer Jason Leigh) blithely shoots down Kiri Vinokur (Ian Holm) near the end of the film. As Ted Pikul (Jude Law) reminds her, “What if we’re not in the game anymore?” (click here to rewatch this scene). Indeed, we certainly wouldn’t be able to shrug our shoulders at the concept of committing violence (among other things) via proxy and and people like Jack Thompson would likely end up feeling quite vindicated. But therein lies the assumption that these desires are okay so long as they are relegated to virtual realms (more on that later).

This recalls Lev Manovich’s consideration of augmented space. If you were to follow the exponential growth of augmented spaces to its worst (but perhaps logical) conclusion, the inviolable sanctity of the ‘natural’ world does become an increasingly dubious notion. Similar to eXistenZ‘s salamander, digital augmentations may irreversibly (and seamlessly) assume their place in the accommodating fabric of our phenomenological existence. Hotchkiss does a good job of exploring this very point:

“The more physical forms of cyborging, specifically, the technologization of biology and biologization of technology evident in eXistenZ and so many of Cronenberg’s other films, figure the breakdown of the nature/culture binarism that has led philospher of science George Canguilhem to argue that machines are ‘organs of the human species’ and that ‘technology is a universal biological phenomenon’ (55, 63). Not only has nature not been free from human manipulation for millennia and hence is irretrievable as a purely natural state, but also nature itself is ‘a blind bricoleur, an elementary logic of combinations, yielding an infinity of potential differences’ [Rabinow 249] rather than a strict teleology tending toward homeostasis. Once that view of nature is accepted, human manipulation becomes itself a part of the plurality and complexity of nature rather than interference with an otherwise freestanding entity. As Allegra tells Ted, ‘It’s the future—you’ll see how natural it feels’ (25).”

eXistenZ compliments this view by approaching the ostensibly real and the virtual without necessarily pronouncing the latter’s artifice. Instead, that ‘artifice’ can be understood as being part of a new conception of reality where the virtual and the real are more muddled. With all of our current technology and essential portable devices, the proliferation of augmented space may result in a similarly ambiguous scenario. As I mentioned in my blog post on augmented space, “Some may be justifiably worried that the world we know and love will slowly change — turning itself into some sort of digital palimpsest where the once familair vestiges of reality become hazier and hazier”. Taking this new view of nature that Hotchkiss refers to, the elements of augmented space may no longer be understood as incongruent additions but organic components. Moreover, as the battle against the Uncanny Valley rages on, the markers of artificiality will eventually become harder and harder to spot. Thus, our current examples of augmented space and films like Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within might one day be understood as having been prototypes for an age where the virtual and the real are no longer so easily demarcated.

However, if the augmented spaces Manovich discussed are going to deliver us to an eXistenZ-esque world, where the virtual and the real are confused and imbricated, then that’s more reason to sincerely consider the desires already bound up with our virtual worlds. While there may be a danger in following Gamer’s projected scenario to its ostensibly alarmist conclusions, the film nonetheless does a decent job of interrogating some of the questionable reasons people flock to and/or create virtual characters and spaces. For instance: the tenacious obsession with technological advancement, the vicarious pleasures (sexual urges, violent urges, subversive urges, etc.) facilitated via virtual surrogates, and the battle against the Uncanny Valley (which culminates by opting out of the process altogether by just using real people, apparently). While these factors may be more or less acceptable in terms of modern MUDs like World of Warcraft, they become a lot more questionable once brought into the so-called material world. Gamer also touches on what I’d call the puppeteer impulse. We began with inanimate objects dangling off marionette strings, followed long after by gaudily fashioned Sims on computer screen and then, if we are to take Gamer at all seriously…

This aspect of the film definitely recalls one of this blog’s apparently inescapable themes, insatiability. Perhaps when we get bored of Second Life and the thousandth incarnation of The Sims, we’ll turn to this. Full control, full clemency and real world stakes. However, even if a real-world equivalent to Gamer‘s more satirical “Society” may never happen, its inclusion in the film at least encourages us to scrutinize the more questionable ways our already virtual spaces can be used. Consider the following quote taken from a Wired article entitled, “Virtual Rape Is Traumatic, but Is It a Crime?”:

“Last month, two Belgian publications reported that the Brussels police have begun an investigation into a citizen’s allegations of rape — in Second Life [...] If it is a criminal offense to sexually abuse a child on the internet, how can we say it is not possible to rape an adult online? But I have a hard time calling it ‘rape,’ or believing it’s a matter for the police. No matter how disturbed you are by a brutal sexual attack online, you cannot equate it to shivering in a hospital with an assailant’s sweat or other excretions still damp on your body“

There are two ways Gamer can be said to respond to this imbrication of real world emotions/vulnerabilities with virtual spaces. First, the film may confirm the idea that our virtual activities (barring a few obvious examples) are kind of insignificant so long as they do not forcefully impact our physical world. Second, the film is using a hypberolic scenario in order to hint at the notion that what happens in virtual spaces already matters quite a bit. While I think it’s obvious that Angie’s (Amber Valletta) experience would not have been as devastating had her virtual avatar (rather than her physical body) been controlled by some random stranger, I still think the second point holds some credence as well. In fact, this issue points toward a new way of looking at the reality/virtual imbrication explored by this week’s course materials. We should not be solely concerned with the idea of virtual logic being imposed onto reality (or something indistinguishable from it) but also attend to the fact that we are already bringing our own ‘natural’ logic and emotions into virtual spaces. In other words — virtual worlds, real logic. This still emphasizes the idea that nature may not be a “freestanding entity” (Hotchkiss, 25) that exists apart from man’s technological manipulations. There is too much dialogue and rampant interaction between those two poles. As the author of that Wired article eventually admits:

“That’s not to say I dismiss the trauma a person suffers after being raped online. Virtual rape is not just a prank, one the target needs to get over or expect as part of a role-playing world. (And if you are inclined to pooh-pooh this, first read author Julian Dibble’s chapter about a rape that occurred in a text-only MOO in the early ’90s.) [...] If you’ve never immersed yourself in online life, you might not realize the emotional availability it takes to be a regular member of an internet community. The psychological aspects of relating are magnified because the physical aspects are (mostly) removed.“

What I find particularly interesting about issues like these is that people always seem so initially uncertain about how to respond to it. There is something about the concept of certain virtual crimes that sets off moral and epistemological uncertainties. If transcendence is impossible and bodies are perpetually moored to their seats, then the assumption is that we’re at a safe remove from any of our virtual worlds. This makes me wonder about the individuals actually committing the contestable crimes themselves. Should they be ignored in favour of the notion that the idea of virtual rape is silly?

I’m inclined to disagree. The sophistication and prevalence of modern-day MUDs comes with a significant propensity for customizable identities, new types of interpersonal relationships, and hours (and hours) of commitment. It’s factors like these that make it harder to believe that we become imperviously aloof and leave our emotions and feelings at the door whenever we dive into a virtual space. It may be that we are more inclined to question the deplorability of these crimes when they enter the real (or live-action) space of flesh and blood human-beings. For instance, touching on the puppeteer impulse long before Gamer, Being John Malkovich had Craig (John Cusack) not only burrow his way into John Malkovich’s mind but learn how to control him, too:

This disturbing (yet somewhat hilarious) example joins Gamer‘s own deplorable instance of dropping outdated Sims for real live human beings. But I don’t think we should rush to view these examples as a legitimate portent of some dystopia where we’ll actually be plugging into each other’s minds through holes in office walls or remote control access. Instead, the real-world applicability of both these films comes down to those baseline desires for control and realized subversive urges that already inflect our current interactions with virtual spaces/avatars. And, of course, that all too common desire for disembodiment, wherein the limitations, reputation, and stigma attached to your own body can be cast off for the tabula rasa of a new flesh. This reminds me of Hotchkin’s thoughts on Dave’s role in The Thirteenth Floor:

“As David’s particular thrill suggests, however, cyberspace is also posited as an environment that creates problems as well, for not until he discovered his love of killing through being able to carry it out with impunity did he become a corrupt and abusive person. Virtual reality both gives him license and shields him from legal, if not moral, consequences, and a great deal of the film’s energy goes into rather tediously and sanctimoniously mulling over the ethical consequences of playing God by creating simulations in one’s own image and then possessing—in both senses of the term—by appropriating their bodies and lives on a whim or to serve one’s own ends” (21).

As Gamer‘s requisite corpulent slob and Being John Malkovich‘s flesh avatar use emphasizes, anonymity tends to elide questions of morality. As that disturbing scene in the elevator from Gamer indicates, virtual spaces and avatars open new opportunities to become aware of latent desires that would have otherwise remained latent had the right technology not come along. This recalls the question of whether technology is best understood as a pernicious force in and of itself or if its users are more to blame. I’m inclined to agree with the latter. Pointing a finger at the technology itself seems silly, even if you were to note that that its capacity for facilitating malicious deeds/thoughts exists independently from human-beings. Which it doesn’t, since human beings designed their technology to hold such capacities in the first place. Moreover, it’s always the human-being who is bringing his own independent choices and desires and choosing to express them through technological means.

Thus, I would say that the very opportunity and possibilities that virtual spaces and avatars present have made it easier to explore certain desires. If you open the virtual floodgates, people will inevitably gravitate toward the possibilities therein. While the strictures of society may force subversive desires to their latent positions, the virtual anonymity of games and the internet offer a potent loophole. However, in an age where Amazon has to ban a virtual rape videogame from its website, there’s obviously reason to be concerned about the kinds of desires and urges being made available through this anonymity (especially if the boundaries between the real and virtual break down but the desires remain the same). If we are to buy the idea that an allegation of virtual rape within an virtual world should be responded to with appropriate gravity, this would necessitate a rethinking of the boundary that separates flesh and blood feelings/vulnerabilities from their virtual spaces. Even before videogame logic intrudes onto reality in a Gamer-esque scenario, it is imperative to consider the possibility that the perks of virtual spaces ([insert desire here] by proxy) are not being played out in abstract and inconsequential environments with no bearing on our real lives.