I just spent half an hour in a room full of people without any pants. I didn't wear any, either. I thought I might need pants because we were going sledding, but turns out they're not essential.
No, it was not the real world. It was the Metaverse, the Facebook-built online world you visit with your virtual reality headset. I got one for Christmas, and I'm here to report what it's like in this exciting new world of bumping into furniture and talking to pantless strangers.
There was art appreciation. I went to the National Gallery in London. You find yourself floating in the room, about 3 feet off the floor, so it accurately reproduces the actual experience of going to the museum with large helium balloons tied to your body. You cannot walk around the galleries, though. You point and click and are hurled across the room to land in front of a painting. You cannot read the little placards, so you miss out on things like this:
"The Scouring of St. Ajax. 1673, Raphaelonini the Lesser. In this depiction of the saint's martyrdom, the artist has set his subject in a Renaissance palace, where the artist's patron, Giovanni Di Micodi, is seen looking out at the viewer, as if to say 'Hey, it's in the Bible. Not like I can do anything about it.' On loan from the Fritz Foundation, although we think they forgot about it because no one's said anything in, like, decades."
Also, everything was slightly blurry, so it's like saying, "Hold on, before we go to the museum I want to find the glasses I wore five years ago."
There were games. The first thing I did was play something that helps you conquer your fear of heights. I don't actually have a fear of heights, unless I'm standing on a yard-wide space on top of an 80-story building and the wind is blowing. Unfortunately, this game puts you on a yard-wide space on top of an 80-story building, and the wind is blowing.
I froze. I did not want to conquer my fear of heights because fear seemed an eminently reasonable reaction to this experience. I stabbed the EXIT button, my virtual home reassembled around me and I was safe. I sat down in my chair; or, at least, attempted to sit. I missed the chair and hit the floor, which made me think there's probably a game for getting over your fear of slipping on the sidewalk and shooting shards of your coccyx up your esophagus. Have to check out that one.
There was a social aspect. The Metaverse is touted as a place where people can gather and chat, or visit concerts and other performances together. First, you beam into a room where you check your appearance in a mirror. I had constructed a digital self that looked exactly like me, right down to the tall, muscular build and robust head of hair. (Cough)
