A philosophical debate on the nature of reality, in Second Life, and a ride on a roller coaster shaped like a giant bong. (Or is that the same entry?)

At this point, the tax revolt has reached a peaceful conclusion, cumulating in a series of thematic events, early in September, from debates on taxation to musket building to Burr-versus-Hamilton-style dueling -- all announced on an era-appropriate board. Bluecoat and Redcoat costumes were fashioned for the Revolutionaries and the Linden loyalists, while Nephilaine Protagonist even designed an Enlightenment-era scribe's costume for me, so I could cover the story in proper attire.

While the revolt has evolved from protest to party, much of the original anger over the high tax rates was genuine. So as it winds down, I asked Second Life community director Peter Linden to provide an official response to those concerns, and the dissent that followed.

"Virtual economies are really hard to do right," he says. "We've analyzed the economies of several online worlds, read Ed Castronovas' analyses over and over, and had various economic professionals examine our economic system.

"We just made some announcements about the enhancements to the economic system, and we can promise that these won't be the only enhancements. The large issue with economies is that they must have both a faucet and a drain. Otherwise they stagnate, and everyone gets bored very quickly."

The challenge, says Peter, is to find that balance, while doing it in a way that keeps the level of object-building at a rate that doesn't bog down the servers. "We are looking at the economy daily," he says, "and mostly, we are trying to find a long-term solution that will help alleviate the problem while still addressing the 'real life' issue of server resource limitation."

As to the Linden view of the protest itself, far as the tea crates and insurrectionist midgets and so on, Peter says, "We love the protests! Since Linden Lab is located in San Francisco, we have seen our fair share of protests, civil disobedience, and some of us are huge believers in Critical Mass. Protests are not only a good way of getting the attention of lots of people, but they also inspire a level of creativity that is rarely seen, and easily shelved by people once the protests are over.

"In Second Life, protests tend to be much more interesting as people can dress as they wish. One day we hope to see a pack of monkeys protesting the banana tax. (What color do we want it? Yellow! When do we want it? NOW!)"

Last week, Sinclair Valen began building a memorial to the victims of 9/11's terror attacks in Blue, the "Americana" simulator. He says it was based on the beams of light, that mark the World Trade Center's absence, a real-world design by Dr. Jining Qi, and suggestions by fellow Americana member Alexis Fairchild. He put it there after some debate, on whether it was appropriate to have a 9/11 memorial in Second Life, at all. A vote was taken, and the majority said Yes. Valen says he's still completing the shrine, which stands alongside Blue's Washington monument.

"I hope that it provides a place of quiet remembrance within the SL structure," he says. "It is a means by which I and others can share what we feel through creativity, and in so doing, help in my own way those others who visit and choose to remember, and from those memories grow resolve and be healed." And though Valen knew no one who died in the attacks, the event has a resonance, for him personally. It's "not only the (long-predicted) day that America was first dealt a serious blow by international terrorists, but also a kind of bellwether between several changes in my life... I often perceive 'life before' and 'life after' September 2001 as radically different in many ways, and remembering 9/11 also makes me remember and reflect on those differences and how my life was altered then."

Later I ask "Michael Mason" what he plans to do on 9/11.

"Well, as most New Yorkers will probably be doing," he says, "I will be taking a moment of silence at the exact moment the first plane stuck. Then, I will be going about my day as normal."

As frequent NWN readers might remember, Michael lost a relative at the World Trade Center. And while he's used Second Life to help him recover from his own shock and grief, he's not sure what he'll do in-world, on this second anniversary.

"I really do hope that someone here in SL holds some sort of memorial event," says Michael. "Something where the residents of Second Life gather, talk about how 9/11 affected them, and then have a moment of silence."

When I tell Nephilaine Protagonist that I'm writing something for the anniversary, she mentions that she'll be lighting a candle in the church she built, on that day. Her cathedral sits on the plateau of Kissling, and it's an elegant edifice, lovingly detailed in every way.

"I set up some candles at the altar," she says, "so that if anyone has anything on their heart, they can copy a candle, name it with the prayer request, and place it on the shelf. I actually do spend time in prayer for the candles that are placed, it's not a sham." We're sitting next to each other in a pew by the altar, but for some reason, I prefer to keep talking with her via Instant Message. It doesn't seem right to "chat" in a church.

She asks me to light a candle, and since it's still days away from 9/11, when I visit, I light a blue candle in honor of Ahmed Shah Massoud the first victim of the terror attacks, by my lights -- though his sacrifice and his heroism are almost forgotten now, in the West. Bin Laden assassinated the Afghan freedom fighter on September 9th, 2001, I tell Nephilaine, to remove America's greatest potential ally in the region, before Mohammed Atta went ahead with his hate-crazed designs.

"In the patch of Afghanistan that Massoud protected from the Taliban against all odds," I tell Nephilaine, "women could work, and people could listen to music." She solemnly promises to keep it safe. I'll light another one for the others lost, on the anniversary of their passing.

Nephilaine tells me about the candle she plans to light herself, on the 11th. "I am going to dedicate it to those who had no one to miss their absence. That's always the thought that breaks my heart. It's all heartbreaking of course, but I don't know why...that aspect is just so very sad to me."

"I'm sure everyone had someone that missed them at least a little," I say.

"I read an article in Newsweek about a lady who lost her husband on 9/11," says Nephilaine, "then her father in that plane wreck that happened over New York a couple weeks later. I'm going to light one for her too." There's a pause in her IM stream, and then she says, "Ooh, I gotta stop. I'm going to cry."

At least there's more shelf space, at Nephilaine Protagonist's church, for more candles.

On Saturday night, August 30th, Burning Life's effigy was set ablaze before a large crowd of residents, with Philip Linden on hand to thank them for attending. By the next day, the Mauve simulator had just disappeared, taking all traces of the weekend with it, replaced by the sea.

And now the discussion turns to how it went, overall, and how it could be better, next year.

"I like the concept but it needs some development," says Eggy Lippmann, who believes the creative energy tapered off, after the first few days. "People built something, had their fun, and then it was mostly static, except for a few late builders."

"[T]o better replicate the atmosphere of the actual event," says David Cartier, who attended the genuine Black Rock event, recently, "there should be more time for planning of team efforts, and we should have a clear theme to work within." Still, he marvels at some of the best projects, saying "I wish the organizers of the real Burning Man could see [it] for themselves."

"I think it is the essence of Second Life distilled and compressed," says Madox Kobayashi. "The audience knew where the artists were, and the artists knew where the audience was gonna be."

And same time next year, with any luck, that will be even more so.

(Photographs of the bonfire provided by Lyra Muse.)

Sex and avatar nudity are pretty much permitted, in a Mature-rated sim -- as long as it's kept behind closed doors. (To prevent its viewing from a neighboring PG-rated sim.) It's why the exterior of the Burning Life temple built by Bel Muse revealed nothing about the… shrine, inside.

I paid my respects to the shrine, accompanied by my friend Nephaline Protagonist, who was appropriately tricked out in some of her sexiest goth finery. Bel had created a couple statues, and had scripted them to keep bowing, again and again to the… shrine, inside.

The screenshots here don't quite reveal what the shrine is, even with Nephaline sitting on its, um, base. And that's how it needs to be. Because Bel calls it "The Penis of Grief", and it's actually a satirical comment on Second Life's checkered history with phalli. (Is that the plural form?)

Once upon a time, Bel explains to me later, one player discovered that someone had built a giant penis next to their building, in a PG-rated simulator, no less. "The Lindens promptly removed it, but the player continued to complain on the forums. Finally people started to hijack the [discussion] thread with funny remarks about how they wanted to see the penis, to experience the grief as well. And thus was born the PoG...Penis of Grief.

"So from time to time, whenever someone actually makes a giant penis or even a building that looks vaguely like a penis, we call it a PoG. And 'cause we are silly, we claim that the PoG appears from time to time around SL. And though it is struck down [by the Lindens], reappears in a new form through its magical powers -- or influences a player to build it, that it may grief once again.

"I guess I'm just saying there's a place for penii, as well, and that they aren't scary or instruments of grief. When I started building it, I was feeling repressed by people getting offended over every little thing, and I feel better now for having built it. And even if it has to be housed and hidden away it's still there! Big as I could make it."

Another religious icon loomed even larger over the event. CrowCatcher Valen's crucifix was erected above the torch-bearing goddess, and just about everything else. Given the pagan theme to Burning Man (and to a great extent, Burning Life) I assumed it was meant to be an ironic or even critical commentary on Christianity. Quite the opposite, says Valen, who describes himself "a big fan" of Christ. "I had always planned on making it. My decision to put it there [in Burning Life], however, did have to do with the surrounding builds, to be honest. I felt like some balance was needed.

"I was expecting a backlash of sorts," he says, "especially considering the devil stars, anti-Judeo-Christian imagery, and homage to hedonism that surrounded the plot of land that I had, but my expectation was misplaced. Everyone who has mentioned it, has said they were impressed and liked it, and they were all really complimentary. Good to know that freedom of speech goes both ways in SL. Whether people share the same beliefs and morals as you or not, it seems we become more tolerant of each other every day."

"I tend to look at the world through rose-colored glasses," says Catherine Cotton, "but I try even harder to find balance in life." On opposite sides of her site is what looks like a pair of giant glasses. The trick to her work -- and it's hard to describe with just text and screenshots, but here goes -- is that the interior of the opposite wall is visible only while looking at it directly. So when you look through the glasses, on one side, you see images of hell, fire, and evil, on the opposite wall. But when you look through the glasses on the other side, you see classic religious imagery, on the other side. So if you're on the "Hell" side of the building, you only see heaven, and if you're on the "Heaven" side, you only see hell.

Catherine says her intent wasn't necessarily religious, in nature. "I've been all over the world and experienced many religions, but the exhibit is more based on looking at life the way I wish to see it -- rather than how it really is."

Then again, many visitors did come away with a spiritual take. "Maggie Miller told me she had told someone she found God there," she says.

"I call it, 'Death of a Primitive Horse'," says Yuki Sunshine, laughing. Her sculpture actually reminded me a bit of the famous Duchamp painting, "Nude Descending a Staircase No.2" -- but, you know, with a horsie.

"I got the idea by looking at my little pose-able drawing model," continues Yuki, "you know, one of those wooden ones, used to help artists with poses? It sits above my computer. I was playing with it, and was quite surprised at how much emotive body language you can portray with such simple structures.

"I was trying to get a sense of motion, and giving a sense of the horse being an animal, and by the end, it's [turned into] a pile of prims. Things. That's the reason it fades from a solid color to the default plywood.

"It's one of the few things that's turned out almost exactly how I pictured it. For me, that's proof that Second Life is a real artistic tool."

By the third day (August 28th) of Burning Life, just about all the land accorded to the event had been snatched up, and every available square inch seemingly converted into an instant nexus of creativity. (More was to come, as the weekend arrived, crowding onto a land already knee deep in deranged inventiveness.) At its heart was a cavernous nightclub, pumped full with colored light and throbbing electronica. The event was neighboring the "Americana" project of Blue, making for odd juxtapositions set against the horizon. And everywhere else you looked, there was something else that was big, strange, cool, or wonderful, or all of those things at once. Nothing fit together, no theme emerged -- but somehow, this wacky aggregate, this dreamlike cascade of 3D objects, worked.

Before it all culminated into oblivion, I had a chance to talk with some of the artists behind a few of Burning Life's best creations - their thoughts and reflections follow, in the next several entries.