Inara Pey: Living in a Modemworld

The Getaway – Nutmeg is a homestead region designed by Jacky Macpherson, and towards which we were steered by Shawn Shakespeare.

It’s a wonderfully simple design that is delightful in its attractive minimalism; the kind of place where description is superfluous, simply because its allure is entirely self-evident on arrival.

Two islands, split by a narrow, meandering channel and with shorelines partially formed by low-lying rocks, gently rise out of the surrounding waters. One rises just a few metres above the misty seas, the other somewhat – but not much – higher, thanks to its single, humped hill. Simple plank bridges cross the channel between them, as if stapling them together in an attempt to keep them from going their separate ways as they drift on the tide.

The larger of the two islands is home to the landing point and a single, open-plan cabin with deep-set verandahs. Cosily furnished and open to the public, the cabin has a fence for its neighbour, one that runs across the island as if cutting it into two and keeping the cabin separated from the only other man-made structure of significant substance to be found here: a sun-faded barn that is apparently home to a flea market, and which is also open to public visits, despite the fence.

The landing point sits between two fences that run – for a short distance at least – north-to-south, pointing the way both towards the  cabin and to the northern headland over which gulls wheel. A similar pair of fences curl in part around the hill of the second island, marking a routine around its northern flank, while the hill itself is crowned by a sunken tree that raises its boughs in scrub-like abandonment, and a comfortable looking hammock.

Covered in the coarse hair of wild grass and studded with silver birch and a few mountain pine, The Getaway – Nutmeg sits under a windlight sky and over a white sea that are both perfect for photography – as is the setting as a whole. Exploring is easy on the eye, as is the subtle richness of detail, with lots of little touches awaiting discovery.

But as I noted, lengthy descriptions of the region are superfluous, it speaks loudly, clearly and attractively for itself, making a visit more than worth the time taken to drop in and explore.

SLurl Details

• The Getaway – Nutmeg (The Getaway, rated Moderate)

In October 2013, a 7.2-magnitude earthquake struck the province of Bohol, Philippines, inducing about 1m land subsidence to some of its small island communities. Now, the islands of Batasan, Pangapasan, Ubay and Bilangbilangan of the Municipality of Tubigon experience partial or complete flooding even during normal spring tides. Coming face-to-face with a hundred years’ worth of sea level rise, the island communities show that they are far more resilient than we think.

This is the introduction to Racing the King Tide, a film and website looking at the impact of the 2013 Philippines earthquake that was centred on the island district of Bohol had on the people and islands close to its epicentre. One of these islands – perhaps the most deeply affect of them all – is tiny Ubay, which is the central inspiration for Serene Footman’s latest region design in Second Life, and which opened to the public on March 3rd.

Called, appropriately enough, Ubay Island, the setting offers a marvellous reproduction of little Ubay – which is less than 4 acres in size – perhaps as seen in the the time period immediately after the earthquake had struck the region. As is always his way, Serene has provided a comprehensive blog post to accompany the build, and I cannot recommend enough that it should be read alongside any visit to Ubay in-world, as it really puts the build into perspective. Through his writing, Serene provides not only a lens through which to view the build, but also wider context on on the earthquake, its impact on the peoples of Ubay Batasan, Pangapasan and Bilangbilangan.

The build presents Ubay as it appears for around 130-140 days a year: flooded to a typical depth of some 45cm (1.5 ft) – although tidal ranges can make the actual waters deeper. The flooding is a combined result of both rising sea level de to climate change – and which ultimately threaten Ubay’s future – and the fact that the 2013 ‘quake saw a mean decrease in elevation of a metre (3ft) within the area where Ubay is located (an collapse that also gave rise to The Great Wall of Bohol on Bohol island itself), leaving the island’s maximum elevation when dry at just 2.32 m (7.2 ft) above the surrounding sea level.

Under the default windlight the water is a dirty, brackish grey / brown – a reminder, perhaps that flood waters can carry with them dirt, mud, animal manure and human wastes which can be hazardous to health – with wooden walk ways partially winding through the village streets in an effort to keep passing feet dry. In this, the setting has the feel of depicting Ubay not long after the earthquake struck; more recently, much has been done (starting with an imitative by the islanders themselves before they received external support), to raise the village footpaths above the average level of the flood waters.

The landing point sits within the local school playground, a location which is both touching and somewhat ironic. Touching, as Serene has captured the graffiti marking one of the playground walls that reminds us of the lives the adults and children of the island face: This Is Where We Play. The irony is that on the actual island of Ubay, the playground was supposed to be the evacuation assembly point should the island be at risk of flooding – but in 2013, it was one of the first places to be submerged.

You might think that given the state of the island, it would have been long deserted – and you’d be wrong. Despite the earthquake, despite the continued and very real threat of rising sea levels as a result of climate change, the people of Ubay steadfastly hold on to their homes and way of life, up to and including the annual threat of typhoons wiping the village off the face of the planet.

This might sound like a case of local hubris, but it’s not. With some 74% of the population living below the national poverty line even before the 2013 earthquake, there is simply nowhere else in the Philippines where the peoples of Ubay and its neighbours can survive. This was proven in the period following the 2013 ‘quake when the 300-ish Ubay islanders were made to evacuate to the “mainland”, and almost all of them quietly moved back to island as it was the only place they could survive as fisher folk. In doing so, they have given Ubay its ray of hope.

Serene has tried to capture this sense of life as well: fishing boats lie in the waters around the village, chairs are set out on raised “porches”, ribbons festoon some of the village paths, clothes are set out to dry in the sun and breeze even as the waters pass under the lines on which they are hung, and so on. Someone has even enterprisingly set-up a stage for a music concert while boat repair yards are still in business. True, one or two liberties may have been taken (for example, the  Racing the Tide website, for example, infers that the half-submerged house that’s included in the build may be at Bilangbilangan Island rather than Ubay), but none of this spoils the setting in any way – rather, they enhance it.

Set as it is under a heavy sky, with its muddied waters and the ruins of buildings pulled down by the earthquake, and its shanty-like corrugated metal walls and roof tops, you might think that Ubay is a bit of a dismal place in SL to visit, but this simply isn’t so. Serene offers something that is once again captivating, poignant and with a depth of story behind it that should not be missed.

Related Links

• Ubay Island (Arcole, rated General)
• Serene’s blog post on Ubay Island
• Racing the King Tide website
• Racing the King Tide video

We’re all familiar with the news of regions that disappear from Second Life – I’ve reported on a few that have announced closure myself. These disappearances can often be high-profile, leading too public upset and, and times, a reason for some pundits to blog about how they are further signs of SL’s “demise”.

What often goes unnoticed, however, are the regions that endure, sitting quietly tucked away, offering a place for people to visit year-on-year, unsullied by time. They remain a constant in the face of change over the passing of time, but can so easily pass notice by bloggers as we rush to seek the latest or new region design or setting.

Take Wizardhat Studios, for example. I made my first visit to it almost seven-and-a-half years ago, in October 2012 (see: Wizardhat: dance, explore, contemplate, admire). At that point in time the region was already entering its fourth year, and it became a place I tended to jump back to semi-frequently over the next few years – although I confess that other than that one 2012 blog post, I’ve never actually written about it again in detail.

This fact had been playing on my mind over the course of the last week or so, a nagging feeling that as it’s been about 4 years since I last dropped, I should pop over and take another look. It’s a thought that was reinforced when reader and friend Miro Collas poked me via Twitter about the region. So, off I hopped.

Designed by Karencreek Melson as the home of artist Wizardhat Mornington, the region is an atmospheric mix of reality, and fantasy, making excellent use of region surrounds and off-sim elements to create a great sense of depth. The default Windlight is perhaps a little bleak – I again found myself flicking to one of my preferred custom presets, but that’s about the only “complaint” I have with the region.

This is a place of coastal castles – one a home to Wizardhat’s photography and art, the other set as a home (but open to the public), where rough-faced cliffs climb to one side, water tumbling from them in places. This cliffs form a semi-circle enclosing the lowlands, their waterfalls forming streams that split the land with its mix of woods, flowers, and cart tracks, as the waters make their way to the sea.

It’s also a place of whimsy: a steampunkian flying submarine floats alongside one of the castles, its interior perhaps triggering thoughts of Captain Nemo’s Nautilus and its vast undersea voyages. Not far away, polar bears take a moment in the sun, stretched out on the western beach; apparently the benefactors of a lottery win. Other animals roam free in the form of scripted agents, some of whom I recall from past visits, such as Happy Camper, others of which may well be new – or at least, relatively new. They wander about the lowlands and / or frolic in greeting while birds wheel overhead.

The animals are not the only perambulating occupants of the region. As you explore, you may notice that a couple of the trees appear to be locating themselves. Wait long enough, and you’ll see this is precisely the case, as one or another of the pair calmly uproots itself and goes for a wander, both of them again being scripted agents. It’s clear that these arboreal wanders are an accepted part of the landscape, as an owl is content to sit in the boughs of one as it takes to its roots and scurries across the land.

What is particularly attractive with this region is that while it retains almost all of its original looks (for those of us familiar it from past excursions), it is also home to subtle changes that both maintain its look and appeal whilst also in part renewing it and making it worthy of return visits. Take the hillside turret to the north; once it looked out towards a storm that seemed to be approaching, now it faces stern-faced faced mass of rock sitting just off-sim.

Eclectic, rich in detail, with lots of opportunities for exploration, photography and dance, Wizardhat Studios remains an engaging visit, one given the added fact it is a place now into its 13th year in Second Life.

SLurl Details

• Wizardhat Studios (Rated Moderate)