Monday 31 March 2008

A Visit to Gor

Well, I attended the dance competition in a Gorean sim at the end of last week. I had decided not to go with an observer tag, but to try to interact. I felt that was the way to a true feeling of the RP. I was very nervous when I arrived, I'm not very good at RP and did not want to spoil anyone else's enjoyment. It turned out that there was little interaction with folk around, but then again, they were concentrating on the competition, and I was suffering badly from lag.

So, what did I feel? Not withstanding that I was in a strange environment, though completely safe, I felt uncomfortable. There was a lot of emoting, and most of the speech was enclosed in quotes, basically like a book. To me, it seemed 'laboured', perhaps this is how RP is suppose to be. I enjoyed the dancing, they 'chant' or 'story tell' while they dance, which is interesting. There were 2 teams, I was unable to read the story from the first team, it was posted too quickly, but I was able to follow the story from the second team. The second teams story was about the capture of a women, the chase, collaring and chaining, and about how the women was 'glad' to be enslaved. The interesting thing about this dance was the music chosen, the theme from Last of the Mohicans, in which a women is captured, enslaved and fights back, the scene as she makes the ultimate sacrifice to deny her captor his prize is a very moving one for me, and is the very opposite to Gorean thinking. All I could think ,as the story unfolded, was that if a man tried to enslave me, he would have a wild cat on his hands, and ran a good chance of wearing his chain as a collar for the rest of his, rather shortened, life. Visiting a Gorean sim was something I had wanted to do, now I have done it, I don't think I will return except in a 'business' situation.

I feel I need to get on with exploring SL again, I've spent a lot of time involved in NCI, teaching, scripting, and socializing. Perhaps I should put some time aside to go get 'lost' each week.

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