As someone who has frequented cyberspace and consciously absconded from the traditional laws of psychology, the notion of "the erosion or transformation of the traditional conception of the autonomous, self-controlled integral and embodied self" came as something of a surprise when it first entered our class discussions, for to me it was an accepted state of affairs and hardly noteworthy of academic attention. I felt akin to how I suspect many indigenous people feel when they become the subjects of sociological study: "Why is this interesting? Haven't things always been this way?" Evidently, things haven't always been this way, which is why they've become a topic of conversation; the incipient fragmentation of the Internet user does seem to warrant attention. I shall attempt, then, to give the "insider's view" -- the perspective of someone who has been frequently fragmented and never considered it an issue until recently.
My own experience with this fragmentation comes from playing a computer game called Bolo. Bolo is a networked tank game that can be played over the Internet from a Macintosh computer. It can accommodate up to 16 players in a real-time graphical interface, and it was, in fact, the first Internet game able to do so. Bolo is ostensibly a tank-based shoot-'em-up, but an experienced player will elaborate on the intricate and discrete elements of strategy that become apparent after one plays the game for a few weeks. The best Bolo players win through a combination of hand-eye coordination (as expressed with subtle manipulations of the keyboard) and good tactical decisions.[1] There are perhaps 100 or so active Bolo players in the world, as well as 100 or so more who play occasionally. Several thousand have played since the game was created. There are numerous "name players," those players who have somehow created a reputation for themselves, be it through skill alone or with distinctive usage of the message-sending capabilities of the game.
When you join a Bolo game, you choose what name (called a handle) to give yourself. Within the game you can send messages to the other players at any time. By choosing a handle and sending a particular set or kind of messages, you can alter perceptions of what kind of player (and subsequently what kind of person) you are. The messages usually encompass social conversations (saying hello to a player you have played many times) as well as technical game discussions (arranging maneuvers with your allies in the game) and "shit talk" (insulting other players, usually based on their lack of skill, sometimes as a strategic move because you know the messages will disrupt their playing ability). The style, frequency, scatological content, grammatical and linguistic construction, and topic of the messages you send will determine your "personality" in the game, and combined with the skill with which you maneuver your tank, and the handle you choose, will create your Bolo identity.
Case Study #1. My personal account is vaguely interesting, though not so much as the ones that will follow. I began playing the game over three years ago, during my senior year in high school, under the handle Squishy Boy. After a few months I changed my handle to Hillbilly Bob&tm;. I made no attempt to alter my "identity" per se -- I didn't send a different set of messages, or change the style with which I played my tank -- and as I was not a name player there were no repercussions from other players after I changed my handle (i.e., no one else noticed). Through my first two years at Swarthmore I played consistently under the handle Hillbilly Bob&tm; (often abbreviated as HB). By the end of my sophomore year I had acquired well-recognized name status. For a while I enjoyed the "fame" that accompanied a handle holding that status (if "fame" is what you can call reputation within the bounds of such a limited population), but eventually I tired of it. My handle had a noticeable effect on people; almost every player had some sort of opinion towards me, and it was impossible for me to play a game without "social baggage" attached -- the anonymous aspect of the game had dissipated with my inflated recognition. So during my junior year I began to alter the handle I played under, choosing a new one every few games, which I have done until recently. My most recent change in handle is detailed in the third case study.
My own case is not one of the extreme, as I did not alter anything other than my handle. I still sent the same sort of messages and played in the same style, and there were players who, based on the way I play and the messages I send, could recognize me as "Hillbilly Bob&tm;" (the handle that acquired a reputation and the one that I am identified with -- as to whether I really am Hillbilly Bob&tm;, that's another question). The only players who can make such identifications are those that I have played many, many times and whom I "know," though, so that doesn't bother me. I didn't attempt to change my "identity," only the most obvious representation of that (my handle) that would eliminate most of the more apparent effects of my reputation.
Case Study #2. Mike Scott is a senior economics major at Swarthmore College. He has played Bolo since his freshman year. He began playing as SSol (which he pronounced "sol"), maintained that identity for a short while, then quickly began to generate new identities. He did more than just change his handle; he created entirely new personalities for each character. "Pink Ranger" is a female Bryn Mawr student, while "Pokey" is a senior engineering major at Swat. Mike has used a plethora of these identities over the years, each for a few months before retiring it, perhaps to recall it later when he feels like assuming a particular role. The style of play within the game was the same for most of the characters, but the messages (the key indicator of Bolo "personality") changed with each handle. There are specific catch phrases possessed by each identity, as well as variations in all of the aspects of messaging that I previously mentioned: style, frequency, scatological content, grammatical and linguistic construction, and topic.
I interviewed Mike (via e-mail, which seemed the most appropriate medium) as to his motivation for changing his identity thus.
There are probably several reasons. First, when I am in different moods I like my net identity to reflect that. If I feel like joking around or just chatting I might use a lighter, happy-go-lucky nickname. If I feel like getting down to business immediately I'll use a more no-nonsense nickname.
Second, I would rather know more about other people than they know about me. Using different identities is like the one-way mirrors they use in line-ups at the police station. If someone else is using a consistent identity, then I know something about them. It's important to remember what I'm doing here also -- I'm playing a game of strategy against an opponent. I think maybe your paper is about more deep, psychological issues or something -- like I want to hide my true feelings because my cat was run over as a child or something. The reason I want to know more about other people than they know about me is because it gives me an advantage in the game -- I know their style and they don't know mine.
Third, it's fun. Acting out different roles and pretending to be different people is just a fun way to let off steam now and then. This might be the least meaningful reason... but it's an important one just the same.
Mike's use of personalities is almost a textbook definition of the fragmented self, but his motivations for doing so are hardly indicative of multiple personalities. The personalities are integrated beneath the umbrella of his "real, core self," as indicated by the conscious effort he makes to adopt an identity. I asked Mike several other questions about the personalities he uses:
Does your use of different identities reflect on your "real life" self or state of mind? Do the multiple identities cross over into non-net life?
Nope. The different personalities are strictly a net thing. I have different moods, like I said before. But everyone has different moods -- they only become different personalities on the net.
Do you feel that the different identities are extensions of your "real" self, or actual multiple identities?
They just reflect how I am feeling at the time. They are not "real" multiple identities in any way.
Are there other areas of life (other than Bolo) where you have used separate identities?
Well does Halloween count? Probably not. The net is the only environment I've found where it is practical to do.
Do you feel your conception of your self has changed since you began using separate identities in Bolo?
No. Maybe it's made me a better actor. Maybe I've become better at putting on a front. But it hasn't made me think of myself any differently.
Must you make an active effort to remain "in character", or is it easy to slip into a personality?
For me it takes effort. Maybe if you're a really gifted actor it doesn't... I don't know. For me I usually have to think about it the whole time. The one way in which it does come naturally is when I am in a certain mood. When I am feeling happy and crazy then playing a personality that is happy and crazy is relatively easier to joke around with.
From these responses I have extracted three primary considerations of using multiple identities in Bolo: the ease of doing so (little effort is involved), the ensconcing of the net identities within the "real" self, and the active effort required to create a net personality. There is also my own desire for anonymity. I will examine these reasons in more depth in pages to come. Before that, however, I must detail one more case study.
Case Study #3. In what is probably worthy of far more examination, four of Swarthmore's Bolo players (me, Mike, Justin Herring, and Franklin Rubinstein) have decided this year to adopt a single identity in all of our Bolo games. The handle for that identity is "bitch." The four of us play our usual styles of play, and there are a very few players who can distinguish us based on that. But given our conscious effort to maintain similar handles and messaging styles, creating an identical personality no matter who is playing, we have constructed what we call "the collective bitch," one personality governed by four distinct people. Almost all other Bolo players are incapable of distinguishing which of us is really behind the bitch that joins their games. A prescribed regimen of stock messages (such as calling the other players "bitch," using the phrase "yeah daddy" whenever one of us pulls off an impressive move, and so on) serves to unite us in the perception of others, regardless of who is playing the part.
Motivations for this choice will vary according to which of the four bitches you ask. My own reason is primarily the desire for anonymity, which I enjoy. I covet this nameless status because it allows me to play Bolo, and only play Bolo, and not have to interact on any level other than Bolo -- which is difficult when you are recognized, as that introduces a more social aspect to the game. In that sense I suppose I am different from many net archetypes, in that I try my best to avoid the social implications of the Internet. Mike's reasoning is explained above. I will not attempt to read into Justin and Franklin's justifications.
Amalgamating the Whole. The traditional conception of an autonomous, self-contained, integral, and embodied self is not quite so threatened by we Bolo-playing maniacs as it would seem at first glance. The most intriguing aspect of watching someone play Bolo is to observe how the player can carry on a real life conversation as whoever he normally is, while simultaneously maintaining a different role in the Bolo game. For both Mike and I, it takes thought and foresight to maintain the personalities we create on the net. In other words, there is a "super-self," our "real self," that controls the subordinate personalities. They come from this core self and are controlled by it, only to be relegated back to the void of non-existence when we quit our Bolo games and turn off our computers. The traditional conception of the self as self-contained and integral remains intact: it is more like a hierarchical tree, with the real life self at the top and the Bolo personalities below, than a collection of multiple selves on the same level of consciousness.
I think the most important consideration in the issue is that of practical ease. We all adopt subtly different personalities at different times in real life: when we meet our girlfriend's parents, when we apply for a loan from the bank, when we get interviewed for college, or when we go out to get drunk with the guys. On the Internet, however, it is much easier to change even greater portions of our identities. A conscious projection of what you want to be takes nothing more than a few seconds of thought, and can be changed with the delete key if necessary -- unlike real life, where you have to change your physical appearance and you cannot erase an unintended faux pas.
I maintain that the expression of the self evident in Bolo, and which I take to be evident in much of interaction over computers, is not so much a changing of the self but a different medium for expression of the same self. However, it is important to remember that traditional conception of the self and the actual self are different things. Certainly the traditional conception of the self is being challenged. But as far as the accuracy of the traditional conception of the self is concerned, perhaps it was wrong all along: due to the labor required to express the self in real life, alterations of the real self simply didn't appear quite so often in real life. With the introduction of computer mediated conversation, we see that the self already contains many more fragments and facets than previously suspected, which appear to varying degrees as the context of a situation allows. As long as the ease of expression continues to increase, more variegated selves will appear.
Unfortunately, the limits of this paper are fast approaching, and even with Times text and extended margins, I am past the assigned page range. I think this subject warrants more attention, for I am convinced that the self itself has not changed with the introduction of computer mediated conversation -- only the conception of the self has changed. This is a subtle distinction which I am sure is thoroughly unprovable, but it is still an intriguing subject. The personalities seen in Bolo are indeed different from those seen in real life, but the question looms large as to whether they are distinct personalities, or representations of what has always been there.
Joseph Goodman -- Psychology 48
[1] More information on the game can be found at http://www.lgm.com/bolo/ .