The Alphaville Herald

Fear and Loathing in Second Life Part 8: the sordid history of the Big Brother fiasco part 2

by Alphaville Herald on 17/02/07 at 9:21 pm

Ah, yes it was so long ago — centuries by the high speed adrenaline rush passage of time that is Web 3.D, but we keep up as best we can, and you *do* want the skinny on what *really* happened in the Big Brother in SL hypervent don’t you? What if I told you it inolved all sorts of X-rated debauchery and our faithful correspondent Gideon Television was smack in the middle of it? Last week we published Gideon’s first report from the griefer-infested beginning of the contest. Today, he leads us throught the Sodom and Gomorrah that was Big Brother in SL. -Uri

I awake the next day, the machines buzzing in my head, as I stare at the droning ceiling fan. “Big Brother. My God, still Big Brother”.

While I was out, more pointless furniture had been installed and one contestant had been sent to the emergency ward. But none of that compared to the dawning realization that there’s was something different in the air, something…. sapphic.

It began with The Diva, a podcaster with an obsessive lust for attention, who knew exactly how to get it. Overnight, she’d begun with a strippers pole and ended up with Simone, her tiara a broken halo. Meanwhile in Room #3, Pannie and Princess Nina exchanged strategies and saliva. Real or play, it was nevertheless received with wild enthusiasm from the voting public. I realize that I need is some kind of entertainment strategy for the visiting punters.

They say that you make your bed and you lie on it. I’m usually not your domesticated Home Depot type, but I put together a brass bed frame, the kind that makes the most noise once you get going. It’d be a shame not to keep some of these broads awake at night. Taking my place in the window, I’m open for business. All that’s left is to persuade one of my supporting cast to hit their mark and play their part, and I’m back in the game.

It’s clear that Big Brother has all the downside of the state penitentiary, except that with 12 girls, a dude in a wheelchair, and a Gorean slavemaster, I’m less worried about bending down in the shower to pick up the soap. Just in case, I carry my Death Duck wherever I go, but realize that whoever gave a steaming Starbucks to a man with absolutely no motor-control has sabotaged him more effectively that I ever could.

Out on the beach, I ease into the steaming bath, and imagine the stench of 15 unwashed avatars evaporating away. I’m joined by Lorita, a tattoo artist from Norway, who’s skin wears a story I wouldn’t mind reading. One chapter a night, serialized, until I get to the big bang ending, preferably in braille.

Not wanting to miss the action, The Diva appears. This is a girl who knows what she wants and exactly how to get it, and amongst the sneaking, backbiting and sabotage going on in the house, I’m beginning to see that her “what you see is what you get” strategy is the most honest of all. And definitely the most picturesque.

In desperation of relieving the futility, I jump from the tub and streak through the house naked, conveniently forgetting to capture a snap. So here I am after, in my Chicken Gideon outfit. It’s a cheap tactic for cheap laughs, and maybe cheaper votes. I scream “I’m An Superstar™, Get me out of here!!” but Big Brother isn’t listening – he’s plotting the challenge that will make our lives hell in the hours to come.

[This previously appeared on Gideontelevision.com, but it's better here, don't you think?]