- Aug 24, 2001
- 31,796
- 2
- 0
Link - Not as low as the dudes living with their Real Dolls but still pretty sad.
excerpt:
excerpt:
Oldest Profession Practiced Here
Amster-Dame, one of Second Life's red-light districts, can't decide what to wear. A patchwork of imported JPG porn and candy-coated graphics, it's the id-as-image series, a woody in kaleidoscopically shifting search of wank material. On one side of the canal-cleaved street, an adults-only cinema flashes real skin flicks free of charge for the horny or hard up. On the other, Blade Runner-esque boutiques vend mixable, matchable parts--pristine, tattooed, or pierced.
Taboo Heart (who'd rather CGW not reveal her real name) is on the job, along with the many other working women milling around here, making bedroom eyes at browsing passersby. "I enjoy standing on the corner, meeting people who might walk past," she confides. "I talk to them about anything, although I won't approach someone and ask them if they want my services. Other escorts do. When someone is interested, they normally send me an IM and request a price or my note card, which has relevant information about me on it." And what these won't tell you about Heart, her affiliation--inevitable and bizarre--will: "I'm in a group called 'Gender-Verified Female,' otherwise known as 'GV Female.' In order to become a member, you must first have a voice conversation with one of the group officers."
While Amster-Dame molls agree to ask a fee of no fewer than L$500 ($1.75) per 30-minute trick (to bar underbidding), they do compete for clients and coin with fingerprinted performances. "Language is an effective and essential tool," Heart says. "And when you combine talk with audiovisual cues, the possibilities are endless." Because Amster-Dame's player-made hotel and Kama-Sutra-swing-equipped penthouse are programmed to enable illicit behavior (with possible positions essentially coded into the game space), sought-after escorts design additional amusement. "I recorded myself masturbating and cropped that into bits I could bring into Second Life," Heart brags. "I even imported pictures of my own body to further personalize things."
Similarly, Khannea Suntzu, another B-girl, shuffles self-recorded sound bites while shifting through lurid, ready-made movements, "creating a flow to the encounter and establishing a sense of consistency. It's labor-intensive," she says, "like juggling, just like a magic show."
Jeroen DeGroot, an agog john who's blown L$12,000 ($44) on solicited sex in a single month, says good escorts "might include graphical effects when appropriate. Walking around in a virtual world matters. The girl you meet might take you to a sleazy motel or a scary dungeon, or maybe she'll show you someplace you haven't seen before--stuff you won't get on the phone. Nonetheless, language is cardinal; complex computer interfaces often become obstacles to satisfying cybersex."
Significantly, Second Life's world simulates more than mere erotica. Sex, it seems, is provocative--but also intimate--in a place where students complete coursework and artisans sideline as strippers. "People lead normal SL lives," DeGroot says, "with friends, homes, jobs, and the like, and it makes sex special. It's more gratifying than starting up some cheap sex game secretly by yourself. People identify with their avatars; they remember their pasts and plan for their futures--it makes these experiences more real and rewarding."
Plus, without some by-the-book SL livelihood, johns like DeGroot would end up fronting real cash for linden dollars (online resources such as LindeX or third-party currency exchanges let residents convert linden bucks to U.S. greenbacks and vice versa). It might happen, however. "Matter of fact," Suntzu says, "the medium's introducing a new mode of consumerism that, in a few years' time, will surpass TV. The SL sex industry's potential is massive. Imagine it: Make a better interface, and all the [people] who now use chat programs such as MSN or AIM will arrive by the millions overnight, endlessly masturbating like Energizer Bunnies."
Of course, the call girl's cut of the windfall, should the forbidden fruit really ripen, is bound to pale in comparison to that of the pimps, procurers, and captains of the cybersex trade. After toying with the idea, the virtual entrepreneurs behind Amster-Dame gentlemen's venue The Barbie Club turned down my invitation to talk, but Suntzu thinks she's sussed out the figures in their hush-hush books for herself. "They take a house cut of 20 percent for every trick turned, which, on average, would be about L$150," she says. "I see stuff every several minutes, so that would add up to about L$1,500 an hour, 24/7. You do the math, but my worst estimate says that that's several tens of thousands of U.S. dollars per year." $47,608, to be precise. And bona fide tycoons traffic in more than just brothels and strip joints. As Suntzu says, "All these clients need man parts and male animations to complete the package, and the cheapest cost L$1,500. It's like selling candy in a cinema."
