The Alphaville Herald

New Crimes, New Punishments

by Alphaville Herald on 19/05/06 at 6:47 pm

The New Scientist is running an article in its May 20th edition all about crime and punishment in the virtual world — one of the Herald’s favorite subjects. In fact, most of the piece could have been ripped from the Herald headlines — and probably was. Of course, it features yet another interview with mafia don and media hound Marsellus Wallace, but don’t let that stop you. Mars even outs his gf in this one!

Relevant portions excerpted below for your discussion:

Between October and December last year, a group of residents in a game called Second Life – who cannot be named for legal reasons – experimented with attacks on the fabric of the Second Life universe itself. They constructed self-replicating objects which copied themselves over and over until the whole universe became overcrowded and the game’s servers crashed. One group even created an object resembling a block of virtual Semtex. Just like a real bomb, when it exploded, the servers running that section of the universe went down, destroying the realm and everything in it.

Linden Lab, which runs Second Life, says the attacks cost the company time and money and were a clear violation of US Code Title 18, section 1030 – which outlaws “denial-of-service” attacks. The law says, in effect, that if you knowingly transmit information to a computer involved in communication beyond the boundaries of the state that results in $5000 or more of damage, you face a hefty fine and up to 10 years’ imprisonment. Linden Lab called in the FBI, in what is probably the first criminal investigation of activities that originated inside a virtual world. “These attacks affect the ability of our servers to provide a service for which people are paying us money,” says Ginsu Yoon, Linden Lab’s counsel. In Linden Lab’s eyes, at least, planting a virtual bomb should be considered a real crime.
“The FBI was called in, in what is probably the first criminal investigation of activities that originated in the virtual world”

It’s not only the games companies that say in-game crimes have real consequences. The player who owned Mirial spent a large amount of time and effort amassing her virtual wealth. Its theft and her character’s murder was a tangible loss. Cases like these only serve to emphasise that the issue of in-game justice is becoming a serious concern.

To date, the absence of law enforcement inside these games has led to players setting up their own alternatives. Jeremy Chase, a customer service manager and IT specialist based in Sacramento, California, formed the Sim Mafia within the game Sims Online. Players could hire Chase and his virtual employees to perform all the services you might expect from a bona fide crime family.

As the popularity of Sims Online waned, Chase moved his crime family to another game run by Linden Lab, a free-form universe called Second Life, where he renamed himself Marsellus Wallace. Now, for the right amount of virtual currency, Chase’s family will “sort out” any problems you have with another Second Life resident. They will blackmail, bribe or collect debts from your virtual enemies. And if they don’t cooperate, Wallace can arrange a hit, which consists of a barrage of pestering instant messages and bad ratings that can affect a character’s reputation and credit – or can even murder them ( www.thesimmafia.com).

I logged on to Second Life to meet Wallace in his marble-floored mansion. “At the moment I have a consigliore, an under-boss, three capos and several soldiers,” he says. Wallace’s reputation in the game is such that an interior designer, eager to curry favour, furnished his mansion for free. Sitting in one of his favourite leather chairs, he told me about his latest strong-arm operation. An associate called Drax Lumiex, who owned a Second Life establishment called the Red Dragon Casino, had asked Wallace if he wanted to go into business with him. The two made a deal and Lumiex even acted as best man at Wallace’s virtual wedding – to Mackenzie Draper, another Second Life character, played by Chase’s real-world girlfriend. The casino seemed to be doing well and the men planned to split the profits, but whenever Wallace asked, Lumiex insisted the casino was running at a loss. Wallace was suspicious.

Lumiex’s casino was famous in Second Life for its unique facade: a huge sculpted red dragon, with the entrance through the mouth. For months, Wallace worked to earn Lumiex’s trust, and finally Lumiex made him a casino partner and gave him permission to modify objects inside. In revenge for being cut out of the profits, Wallace did the virtual equivalent of torching the place. He deleted the red dragon.

Chase likes to think of Wallace as a virtual John Gotti – the reviled and admired New York mafia boss imprisoned in 1992. “He fought the law, like I do. Sure, he was violent and ruthless. But with the bad, there is always some good.”

In the real world, Chase’s mafia activities would pit him against the law. Online, Wallace is well known to Linden Lab and has become a minor celebrity within the game. For now he continues to act with impunity.
Laying down the virtual law

But slowly, things are changing. For many people, online gaming is now a major part of life – a third of Second Life players spend more time in the game than in the real world. So companies are starting to accept that some sort of policing is necessary. As a rule, the medieval approach prevails – those who break the rules are suspended, or exiled from the virtual world. Linden Lab now runs a points system: the more frequently you misbehave and the worse the transgression, the more negative points you get. The higher the rate at which you accrue points, the more severe the punishment. “Violations that target other characters or make Second Life feel unsafe or unwelcoming are dealt with more aggressively,” says Linden Lab’s Daniel Huebner.

Banishment is a blunt tool, however, as players can simply creep back into the game under another name and identity. And in any case, the issue of punishment per se throws up a tough question for games companies: isn’t the point of the virtual worlds to escape the restrictions of the real one?
“For many people, online gaming is now a major part of life. A third of Second Life players spend more time in the game than in the real world”

So Linden Lab is testing an alternative approach of rehabilitating offenders. In January, Second Life resident Nimrod Yaffle reverse engineered some computer code to help him steal another player’s virtual property. He was reported and became the first resident to be sent to a new area of the game, The Cornfield – a kind of virtual prison. Every time he logged on all he could do was ride a virtual tractor and watch an educational film about a boy who drifts into a life of crime.

Other games are also trying to keep punishments in tune with their setting. For example, Cynewulf, played by an electrical engineer from Flint, Michigan, is perhaps the only American alive who has some experience of crucifixion. He is a resident of a new game called Roma Victor, which is based in Roman Britain, and a barbarian. In April he spent seven days nailed to a cross for ruthlessly killing new players as soon as they entered the game.

The punishment had an effect. “It was surprisingly agonising for just being a game,” Cynewulf says. “Being jeered at by the Romans while immobilised is not much fun. Particularly since they are all weaklings who deserve to die by my sword.”

Acts like Cynewulf’s virtual murders can usually be clearly labelled as crimes. But what about more subtle forms of disagreement? What if your neighbour builds a huge tower block that blocks the light to your virtual garden? Who can you turn to? Last year, two law students, known in Second Life as Judge Mason and Judge Churchill, decided to solve this problem by opening the Second Life Superior Court. Residents could take their arguments, large or small, to the in-world courtroom. With reference to the Second Life rules, and their own knowledge of real-world law, the judges would resolve disputes.

Predictably, not all Second Life residents liked the idea. “What a mind-numbingly futile exercise,” Tony Walsh wrote on a Second Life bulletin board. “So now we have yet another level of tedious bureaucracy to Second Life.” Others wondered whether the court would have any teeth to back up a judgement, or even what would happen if a Linden (a character played by an employee of Linden Lab) was the target of a case. To clarify their non-involvement, Linden Lab requested that the court change its name. It is now the Metaverse Superior Court. With its teeth removed, the court fell into disuse. The idea isn’t totally dead: there is one small community in Second Life, called New Altonburg, that successfully polices itself. Linden Lab would like more communities to handle their own disputes, and its wish may not be that far-fetched.

If crime in the online community continues to flourish, expect the laws and regulations of the real world to eventually catch up with residents of Second Life and other virtual worlds. When that happens, you can bet it won’t be long before they start wishing for a third life to escape to.