A hostage crisis envelopes Second Life, and madness ensues! (Well, in a very small part of it, anyway.)

Bob Bunderfeld (see Tuesday's entry) lives with his in-world girlfriend Crissy in their cabin (they've been together in-world about four months now), but Bob was already building his dream home, before they met. Originally she purchased one of Bob's pre-fab homes, and they got to know each other as he did custom work on it for her.

"Then one day she was saying how she really didn't like the area she was in," Bob tells me, "so I invited her to move out here. At first she placed her house next to the cabin. After a couple of weeks, we realized we were really close to each other, so I invited her to share the cabin with me."

I ask him if she said Yes immediately.

"No," says Bob, "actually she didn't. She knew that her living here might give off the wrong idea to some people." He had the same concerns, actually: "Crissy knows I have a strong faith," says Bob, "and therefore, am not someone that would 'shack up' like you see a lot of in real life." So their spiritual convictions led them into a rather unique conversation: While they considered pre-marital cohabitation sinful, what exactly was the sin quotient involved with living together in an online world?

"We talked about the idea of her living here in the cabin," says Bob. "When it came down to it, we decided it would be OK, because quite frankly, we aren't doing anything like sleeping together. She calls this her home, and so do I. But we aren't physically intimate with one another, although we are growing closer and closer together. So, whenever people make comments like 'so you guys are getting it on' or something to that effect, we gently let them know that we don't believe in that sort of thing."

"Interesting moral dilemma," I say.

"We discussed just where the lines would be drawn," he says, "what would and wouldn't be acceptable behavior. Now, we will hug and even kiss, but if we were together in real life, we would do that. I tell everyone that I talk to [in-world] about this. Who you see in SL is the same person you would see in RL."

So their online relationship is built on a more substantial basis. (And it's only online: she lives in California, while he lives in Missouri.) "She's a wonderful person. She will come to where I'm building a structure for someone else, and just sit and talk with me as I work. And even though she would want me to be here with her, she will tell me to leave if she knows I've been here too long." Bob has a neurological condition that can leave him in agony. "Sitting for long periods makes my pain go sky high… back, neck, shoulder. She's a nurse in real life, and has been a great help."

"It makes me even more glad that I'm a nurse and can talk to him about what is happening in his medical care," says Crissy later, when she joins us. "But he is a very informed health consumer, and keeps his doctors up to date on the latest info." Soon, Bob says, he'll undergo brain surgery that should ameliorate almost all of this pain-- and Crissy, one expects, will be in here to help him endure what yet remains.

Bhodi Silverman knew full well that Jessie was Second Life's combat-enabled "war zone", when she decided to create the Bhodi Tree Gallery in its North-Easternmost corner. It might not sound like the ideal place to create an art gallery, but in fact, says Bhodi, "that's why we chose to locate here. We adhere to Breton's idea that 'Beauty should be convulsive, or not at all', and think conflict breeds creativity." In a Forum topic, she offers another reason: "[C]ivilians play a big part in wars fought on their home territory. Aid groups, for instance, often inadvertently determine the outcome of wars in Africa through the economics of food distribution… I believe that having civilian presences adds to the depth of the sim and, in the end, will be good for it."

Bhodi isn't an artist herself, but calls herself a collector of Outsider Art, including "transgressive folk art, elaborate protest signs, or folk art relics from the Civil Rights Movement." Originally from rural Appalachia, one of the poorest regions of the United States, Bhodi ended up working as a Manhattan advertising executive at the height of the dot com boom. "I spent all day thinking of ways to sell things like computers and office supplies on the Web-- and it was depressing to watch so much money going into things that are so trivial when I come from a place with so many real problems."

The grind of commerce took its toll. "After a while, I didn't like myself as an NY Ad Girl. I quit just before the crash, but I didn't sell my stock because I'm a financial idiot." She returned to Appalachia, where she now works as a civil rights advocate for the disabled. "So, now I'm poor but honest!"

Her New York experiences left her jaded about the creative potential of the Internet, but being in here "has renewed my sense of wonder and potential… I came to Second Life on a lark, really. But once I got here, I was struck by the already rich history and depth of the conversation happening."

Another Jessie resident and I watch her erect a propaganda poster of Che Guevara, which makes me wonder about the relationship between art and political violence, especially in here. I'm about to ask her something like this, but she has to log off. "I hate to leave such wonderful company," says Bhodi, "but I have a city council meeting to get to. I need to yell about a lack of sidewalk ramps in a new part of town!" I tell her to fight the good fight, and she leaves her heavily armed patrons in a puff of pixels.

The luxurious redwood home of Bob Bunderfeld and Crissy Crossing is nestled along Slate's river, and represents the gold standard of secluded living in style. A roaring fireplace, an art-deco pool table, an opulently apportioned bathroom, and everywhere you look, breathtaking views of the water, the forest, and the hills beyond. The bedroom is on a raised platform above the rest of the house, adding even more to the grand sense of space made possible by the vaulted ceilings.

In Second Life, some events require you to get all spiffy and high society, while others just need you suitably attired to watch the world go up in flames. And sometimes, you'll want to be prepared for both extremes simultaneously -- so you've got to improvise. A couple weeks ago, for example, two events were both kicking off at 5pm and the host to each was expecting me to attend. After a period of relative peace in Jessie, following months of strife, Jack Orlowski was trying to revive the region's violent era with a multiplayer battle royale. At the same time, event planner Baccara Rose wanted me to attend her grand fashion show for the fall line of famed designer Fey Brightwillow.

My solution was to show up at Jessie in my Hunter S. Thompson-inspired avatar, armed with whiskey and a Taurus Raging Bull .454 Casull six-shooter, thoughtfully provided by Jack for the occasion. Twenty or so combatants are already there, and before Jack could even get his chopper airborne random frags are breaking out everywhere. Within minutes, Jessie was literally raging in fireballs and bloodshed. At times like this, my HST avatar comes most in handy; it's the perfect persona to shoot off random Magnum rounds, and hold up a bottle of Jim Beam, to greet the gathering flames like a wild man.

Having made my cameo there, I quickly slip back into my white suit and Hamlet Linden avatar, then fly double-time to Tan, where the fashion show is already in full, elegant swing. Dozens of residents are in the audience, formally dressed and applauding, as Fey acts as emcee, and glamorous models sashay down the runway, to the imported audio of Broadway show tunes and old jazz classics.

The whole event is lovely, and since I'm not being shot at any more, it's the ideal time to sit back and think about how bizarre this beat of mine can be. It's sort of like being the paper's war correspondent and its society columnist. (And its art critic, and financial columnist, and cultural commentator.)

With some help from Mark Linden, I've set my Hamlet Linden account to forward any Instant Messages I receive while I'm not in-world to magically bounce to my hamlet@secondlife.com account. That way, residents can contact me from within the world at all times, and be sure I'll get the message ASAP. (I almost always check my e-mail at least every 30 minutes.) It's the perfect way to let me know about breaking news stories.

Thanks to James Grimmelmann for his recent article on the recent tax revolt in Second Life for Law Meme, a technology-and-jurisprudence blog on the Yale Law School site. His finely reported story generated provocative conversation on that site's message board (including a post by SL resident and revolutionary leader Fleabite Beach), then generated even more conversation on Slashdot when the famed News for Nerds site linked it.

For those who want to read up on the NWN entries that Grimmelmann based his article on, they're here, here, and here.