Help Island
So, I get to Help Island. I got to decide whether I wanted to be able to hear music and watch videos. Little question marks rotate here and there and when you click on them it tells you how to do things. I learned how to sit down and why I should have a posing stand.
I learned about prims (relating to "primary") which are objects that you create in Second Life. Anything you can create in real life you can create in Second Life but, like in real life, you need talent to do so. I made a box.
They make a big deal out of prims because whatever you create you own...legally...for real. It is intellectual property. You can sell it for real money if you can find a buyer, which many folks can. Over a million real US dollars changes hands in Second Life each day. Not that my box is going to allow me to retire, but still, it is mine. I know it, and if I put it on the ground, anyone who clicks on it can see who made it and whether the creator allows others to copy it, alter it, take it, or whatever. I put it down on the ground.
Then I explored other places. There was a game area on Help Island where you could sit down and play chess, play hangman, Sudoku, pinball, and a variety of other games.
I learned to fly.
And then along came this short, fat woman who plowed right into me and pushed me around. I moved. She followed me. Wherever I went she followed, pushing me around and shouting "RARARAR." I was about to quit just to get away, but then I didn't see her any more. So perhaps the "help" removed her.
I found a dance floor. A floating question mark told me how to stop dancing. But I wasn't dancing yet and I didn't know how to start dancing. That remains to be discovered. There was a goth guy on the dance floor, too, but he wasn't dancing either.
I saw a couple other folks on Help Island, but no one named Linden was immediately apparent. Which was too bad. I had figured out how to put the torch away, but am still living with the big hair. Maybe it was the hair that set off the short, fat lady.
It was getting late, so I signed off. This morning I had e-mail from Second Life saying that they had found my box and put it in my lost and found folder!
I learned about prims (relating to "primary") which are objects that you create in Second Life. Anything you can create in real life you can create in Second Life but, like in real life, you need talent to do so. I made a box.
They make a big deal out of prims because whatever you create you own...legally...for real. It is intellectual property. You can sell it for real money if you can find a buyer, which many folks can. Over a million real US dollars changes hands in Second Life each day. Not that my box is going to allow me to retire, but still, it is mine. I know it, and if I put it on the ground, anyone who clicks on it can see who made it and whether the creator allows others to copy it, alter it, take it, or whatever. I put it down on the ground.
Then I explored other places. There was a game area on Help Island where you could sit down and play chess, play hangman, Sudoku, pinball, and a variety of other games.
I learned to fly.
And then along came this short, fat woman who plowed right into me and pushed me around. I moved. She followed me. Wherever I went she followed, pushing me around and shouting "RARARAR." I was about to quit just to get away, but then I didn't see her any more. So perhaps the "help" removed her.
I found a dance floor. A floating question mark told me how to stop dancing. But I wasn't dancing yet and I didn't know how to start dancing. That remains to be discovered. There was a goth guy on the dance floor, too, but he wasn't dancing either.
I saw a couple other folks on Help Island, but no one named Linden was immediately apparent. Which was too bad. I had figured out how to put the torch away, but am still living with the big hair. Maybe it was the hair that set off the short, fat lady.
It was getting late, so I signed off. This morning I had e-mail from Second Life saying that they had found my box and put it in my lost and found folder!
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