Virtual Reality as Dream and as Technology

A summary of:
Ryan, M.-L. (2001). Narrative as Virtual Reality: Immersion and Interactivity in Literature and Electronic Media. The Johns Hopkins University Press: Baltimore.
Chapter 2 – Virtual Reality as Dream and as Technology

Aldous Huxley wrote of the potential perils of multisensory art in his Brave New World, where characters experience The Feely, “that offered visual, auditive, olfactory, and tactile stimuli. The spectators could feel every hair of the rug on which the protagonists were making love, every jolt in the crash of a helicopter, and they were so fully absorbed in these sensations that they paid no attention to the silliness of the plot” (55). We can relate to this – it does seem like the logical extension of the VR dream, resulting in the death of the mind. But Ryan says, “Despite Huxley’s warning that multisensory art would extinguish critical sense and render the imagination obsolete, the idea has retained a powerful hold on the modern mind” (55).

So it is not the multisensory nature of VR that we should be wary of. To some degree, a good novel evokes sensations of touch, smell, etc.. But there is something we may want to consider in more depth: Ryan writes a lot in this chapter about the goal of virtual reality is to erase the medium while multiplying it – i.e. making the medium invisible (56): “The ‘virtual reality effect’ is the denial of the role of hardware and software (bits, pixels, and binary code) in the production of what the user experiences as unmediated presence” (57). In a sense, this is not unique to VR; for example, it is clearly the goal of interface design. As Ryan says, “‘Virtual reality’ is not just the ultimate medium, it is the ultimate interface metaphor” (58).

The question for me is, Are we duping ourselves out of a spiritual experience? This seems illusory and manipulative; and in erasing the medium, we make it more readily acceptable, thus the technology can increasingly creep into where it might otherwise have been objectionable. In a nutshell, this insidiousness is what irks me about Ubiquitous Computing (Mark Weiser’s vision of it, anyway). Before we know it, we may find that our hitherto spiritual spaces are being corrupted by the intrusion of technology cloaked in the invisibility of the perfect erasure of its medium-ness.

I was intrigued to learn that there have been people in the past who have considered the possibility for more spiritual representation within our communication. For example, “The mystics of ages past – such as Swedenborg, the esoteric philosopher of the eighteenth century – had a term for this radically antisemiotic mode of communication. They called it the ‘language of the angels’” (59); and, “Pierre Lévy… believes that the expressive potential of the computer will be better served by a graphic language that he calls ‘dynamic ideography’ than by alphanumeric symbols” (60). I agree in principle with this approach; i.e. I think that if one wants to design a spiritual object, technology, or experience, one needs to evaluate the ways in which the foundation of that object/technology/experience represent the essential spiritual principles one wishes to be present in the final product. But I think in terms of the Internet, we are far past the point of (what Lanier would call) “lock in,” and there is no way to change the symbols that we use to communicate in that space. The remaining options for us have to do with structural changes, meaning how that communication occurs, rather than its encryption.

Bearing this in mind, I found this quote particularly fascinating and poignant: “This VR relation to space is totally different from what we experience in the ‘cyberspace’ of the Internet. Cyberspace projects not a continuous territory but a relatively loose net made of links and nodes, of routes and destinations, with nothing in between. The destinations, or sites, may be centers of interest, but the connecting routes are not. Travel from site to site is not a voyage through a developing landscape but an instantaneous jump that negates the body, since material bodies can move through space only by traversing it one point at a time. The standard metaphor for cyberspace travel, surfing, gives a false impression of continuity” (73)…. In the nonspace of cyberspace, travel time is wasted time, since there is nothing to see between the nodes” (74).

This design embodies and in turn promotes a value set whereby speed, efficiency, and by extension profit, are at the top of the hierarchy. I think – though perhaps I’m not qualified to say so – that engagement with technology that emanates these values slowly and subconsciously affects our ability to appreciate alternative values. In other words, the more we engage with technology where the journey is a distraction and a hindrance, is it getting harder for us to enjoy the journey in other areas of our lives? My point is, there must be a more spiritual design alternative that could promote a difference set of values. How can we make it look like this – Ryan’s – vision?: “It would not matter where we ended; the pleasure would be the ride itself, the experience of being carried away by a smooth but mighty force” (74).