Tag: Exploring SL Archives

We were drawn to The Island That Is Not There simply because of the region’s name. A Homestead designed by Franz Markstein, it presents a rugged island setting with a mix of influences that give the region a strangely eclectic, but flowing look and feel.

Second star to the right and straight on till morning, this is the way to the island that is not there.

– Franz Markstein, describing The Island That Is Not There

It is a place without obvious paths and no roads, but with a definite east-west orientation, the eastern side a high table of rock, backed in part by a natural curtain wall. The ruins of a once great chapel sit here, and before them, a mix of shop, houses and cabins sitting on the first rocky steps that descend down to the western beaches.

More houses are scattered around, most with a Mediterranean slant, although the setting doesn’t have the usual trappings of a Mediterranean location, but projects something of a feel for a rugged Scottish isle. A bubbling brook splashes down from the eastern uplands to the western coast. It rises without warning at the head of a gully – presumably there is a underground wellspring – and bounces and splashes its way between rocks and over rapids, gurgling as it goes, until it passes under a hump-backed bridge to drop to the sea alongside a small beach.

Boats sit offshore, mainly of the sailing or rowing varieties. Some of the latter offer places to sit and pose, while the former – surprisingly – are also open for people to sit and stand aboard, offering unusual (for a public setting) opportunities for photographs – as does the biplane passing overhead.

One of the rowing boats is not merely for posing in, however. It forms a rezzer and a way to reach the outlying islands. One of these offering a little summerhouse / getaway, with seating, art and a distressed piano that can also be found within the walls of the ruined chapel (amidst other bric-a-brac). The second island is set aside of events, with a DJ station and grassy dance area which, during my return visit for photos, was hosting a set. Sadly, there are no rezzrs for a return row to the main island, so flying is the order of the day.

Building on so rugged a setting can cause one or two issues. While mesh can easily be moulded into uneven rocky forms, it’s not so easy to shape when it comes to grasses and flowers. This can result in expanses of grass appearing to float in the air when the rock in which it was placed drops away. It also means that buildings without deep footings can end up with gaps between them and the ground beneath them. Some of this is evident here; one or two of the buildings and walls could perhaps do with settling a little more, or have “foundations” set beneath them.

There are also one or two elements of the landscape – notably along the western beach and the waterfalls of the brook – that perhaps need tidying up and gaps eliminated, but really none of these issues spoil exploration or photography. For the latter, adjusting the sun position or changing your local windlight can overcome the odd awkward gap or strangely-placed shadow. This is fortunate, because there really is much to appreciate about the overall design.

Finished with a rich sound scape, and with plenty to see, The Island That Is Not There makes for a pleasing visit. Should people wish to tarry, there are enough places to sit without feeling crowded. Ideal under a range of windlight settings, it also offers plenty of opportunities for landscape and avatar photography.

SLurl and Links

• The Island That Is Not There (Serena Wonderland)
• Exploring Second Life
• Exploring Second Life (2019)

I make no apologies for returning to Hotel California, the homestead region held by Schmexysbuddy just a month after my last visit (see: A touch of HollyWeird in Second Life); the designs he creates each month are amongst the most imaginative and eye-catching within Second Life, consistently offering environments that straddle the line between landscape and art.

For September, Schmexysbuddy present Dancing in the Moonlight, which is – for me – captivating in the rich juxtaposition of ideas and content, bringing together as it does art, sci-fi, a sense of dark humour, fantasy, dream and nightmare, all with what might be a very subtle underscore of an ecological warning. It is born out of suggestions from his partner, Racey, that served as the fertile ground on which the design grew. It’s also a place in which you can actually become a part of the setting and art.

This is a place that is genuinely hard to describe and which my images fail to do justice. Caught under a sky heavy with cloud that appears to form a roiling inverted sea-scape as it rolls overhead, the land is a uniform grey and pockmarked with impact craters, many of which are scudded and partially filled with wind-blown dust. Together they present the first enigma of the setting: are we on a Earth or on the Moon?

This quandry is added to by the bay that cuts into the land, the foamed see passing under a great wrought iron bridge under which a submarine is passing, its twin grounded on the shores of the bay close by. This suggests a place on Earth – or at least a world with air and water. Yet, space suited figures can be seen near the shoreline of the bay. A further enigma comes in the form of a metal galleon drifting overhead, sails unfurled and stubby wings extended from its hull…

And that’s just the start of things. To the east of the region sits the brooding bulk of some form of structure that looks like it would be perfectly at home on the Moon or crouched on an asteroid (even with the advertising boards rising from its roof). It sets something of a tone in keeping with the space-suited figures and more such figures, these in red suits – albeit  without their support back packs gathered close by.

Also close by is a network of pipe-like corridors snake over the ground and into the air, some fully enclosing the walkways within, others are open to the environment. All can be explored as they twist and turn, while further elements hang suspended in the sky or partially buried below. In this, the network offers something of a faint and static echo of A Petrovsky Flux (long since sadly gone of SL, but which you can read about here and here (2014) and here (2016)).  However, it is not the most obvious nod towards artistic expression in the region.

This comes in the form of the many sculptures by Mistero Hifeng that are scattered across and over the landscape. These are hard to miss, a fair number of them having been greatly scaled up. The manner in which these sculptures are mixed with the rest of the setting gives Dancing in the Moonlight something of a dream-like feeling. By this, I mean not so much that it is a dream (although it might well be), but rather it is a tapestry of imagines that are left at the edges of consciousness upon waking from a sleep marked by dreams; the kind of mental flashes we get when trying to recall the dreams. And if you are seeking the dreamer of these dreams, perhaps a look up at the flying galleon might yield a clue…

But the dreams are perhaps not all pleasant; there is a hint of nightmare here as well. When examined, the NASA astronauts are revealed to be dead; their helmet visors smashed and their skulls devoid of flesh, tissue or muscle. Their cosmonaut colleagues across the bay are no better off, and the nightmare’s edge is increased with them by the presence something loosely resembling the space jockey from the Alien franchise – except where its chest should lie burst open, it instead offers a bed…

It is with the astronaut figures that the ecological message might creep into the setting. This is a place with an atmosphere, with all the familiarities of Earth So why would the people here be confined to space suits? Could it be the dream formed a warning of what could come of humanity’s excesses, with the statues standing as monuments to humanity’s lost creativity? I leave that to visitors to ruminate.

What is without doubt is the sheer striking uniqueness of Dancing in the Moonlight, a place that is gloriously imagined, marvellously photogenic and quit mystifying in its presentation. It is absolutely not something to be missed. Oh, and that being a part of the scene I mentioned? Just accept the request to animate your avatar on arrival – and make sure your AO is turned off (you can move around while the animations play).

SLurl Details

• Dancing in the Moonlight (Hotel California, rated Adult)

Late in August we visited – on the recommendation of Miro Collas – Iniquity Constantine’s Homestead region of Summerland. At the time of our visit, Ini described the region as “an idyllic garden where the spirit may rest and rejuvenate,” offering a mix of “pagan, ritual, mythology, mythic … magic, runes, druid, nature, elemental, [and] familiars” in its elements.

These elements are apparent as soon as visitors arrive in the region: the landing point sits within a barn converted into a Wiccan / pagan centre where psychic readings are on offer, and the trappings of Wiccan and magical supplies and symbols are much in evidence.

Outside, a deck extends over coastal waters under a late summer sky as seagulls wheel around in search of a fishy meal. The deck offers place to sit and appreciate the view across the rest of the region and the surrounding (off-sim) hills. This view reveals that the region forms a semi-circle of small islands that form a horseshoe around what is – given the foaming waters – a shallow bay sitting over a broad shelf of rock.

One its western end, this horseshoe bay is watched over by the tall red finger of a lighthouse; at its eastern extent, it is mirrored by a set of horseshoe waterfalls that tumble from the cliffs of the highest island in the curved chain. It is these falls, visible through the haze that draw visitors around the side of the landing point barn to where a wooden bridge offers the way to the next island in the series.

Here lie the first ruins with pagan / druid elements: ancient statues, a broken henge of shaped stones around a hewn alter and reach via a stone arch. Beyond it, a second bridge connects to the tall island, the exploration of which can be split into two parts. Just across the bridge, a set of stone steps climb up the grassy shoulder of the island, while just to the left, through a gap in a broken wooden fence, a ladder offers the first part of a way down to where a shingle beach sits at the base of the island, presenting a path to a little beach house sitting on another deck built out over the waters.

At the top of the stone steps, the upper plateau of the island presents a hazy mix of the pastoral and the pagan / ancient. Horses graze on the long grass, shaded by the island’s woodlands, trees that help hide and disguise the ruins scattered beneath their boughs. These take several forms, including those of a chapel and a much more recent glass-and-metal pavilion that has been turned into a place of meditation.

A path winds across the grassy table of the island, offering a means to see most of the sights whilst pointing the way to where a rocky route drops down to another bridge and also an almost-cave or cavern. As well as providing a means to reach the last two islands in the chain, the low-lying grassy headland provides the means to reach a modern and comfortable orangery – a further place for visitors to sit and rest during a visit to the region.

The two remaining islands offer a further mix of trees, ruins and places to sit and rest or in meditation, all within the region’s sound scape that is, perhaps a little too dominated by the thunder of waterfalls. There is also a little roughness to some of the landscaping with floating bushes and candles here and there, together with some slight alpha issues (sadly common and often unavoidable when combining foliage and off-sim elements), but nothing that excessively gets in the way of appreciating the beauty of the setting, and which certainly don’t interfere with opportunities for photography. Images captured may be shared through the region’s Flickr group.

SLurl Details

• Summerland (Margarita Island, rated: Adult)

Update, November 2019: Frogmore has relocated to a full region. The SLurls in this piece have therefore been updated to point to that location. A review of the new region location is available here: Frogmore: more Swedish memories in Second Life.

Frogmore – or to give it its full name, Frogmore Gamla Stan (“Frogmore Old Town”), is a homestead region designed by Terry Fotherington (of {PAPPADO} – read more here and Kekeland  – read more here – fame) on behalf of region holder Bengta. The region’s design serves a very specific purpose, as Bengta explains:

Frogmore Gamla Stan is a memory of life as a child in Öregrund, Sweden. The air is filled with the scent of the sea, old fishing boats, and smoked herring. A simple life filled with love and laughter.

A quick check on Öregrund reveals it to be a small town (population 1,500-ish in 2010), on the Baltic coast of Sweden’s Uppsala County. It’s apparently a place that was largely ignored by Sweden’s 19th century industrialisation; other than bar iron passing through the town’s harbour en route to places like England, the town itself largely remained centred on fishing, although in the late 19th century it did became popular as a spa resort.

It is that history as a fishing town, as Bengta notes, that Frogmore draws a part of its inspiration, together with the rugged beauty of the Scandinavian coast, to form a wonderful little fishing hamlet clinging to a rugged coastal region / group of islands. Given that it is only inspired by childhood memories as visualised through the eyes of another, direct parallels between Frogmore’s look and Öregrund perhaps shouldn’t be made.

Instead, it is better to simply wander along the single, cinder-topped road, passing between brightly-painted wooden places of business and cabins (none of which are furnished within, to allow the focus to be on the landscaping and overall setting, to where steps climb upwards and more inland. The waterfront cabins and buildings are literally that: right on, and sometimes over, the water, with steps and moorings for rowing boats, nets drying as they hang from walls, and sofas and benches set on raised porches.

More houses and places of business can be found on the stepped shoulders of rock rising on the landward side of the road, and with a little care and scrambling, you can make your way to where a primitive log bridge spans a narrow watery gorge separating the two largest islands. This is worth taking, as it leads the way past a superb little rocky stream that tumbles down from one pool to another which, presumably has an opening somewhere under the cold-looking waters to allow the flow to continue on its way. Created using one of Alex Bader’s new Animated River Building Packs (see here and here), it really shows what can be achieved with what is  – to me – the best mesh river system available in SL.

Exploring the region can be both fun and a little frustrating. Fun, as there are little cinder trails to be found here and there, offering the way between rocks to cabins or down to little beaches and coves. Frustrating, because although there are a couple of paddle boat rezzers to be found on the different islands, the lie of the land means you can’t actually use them to get from the little town to the other islands or vice-versa, leaving flying the only alternative.

The other peculiarity I had with a visit was that on our first (exploratory) time in Frogmore, the region was backed by off-sim mountains. On my return for photos, these steadfastly refused to render (and I tried 3 different viewers and various tricks to try to force them to render). Hence why some of the shoots accompanying this article may be different to those of Frogmore you may have seen elsewhere. Chatting to a couple of other people on the region, I learned they were having similar issues between visits – sometimes the mountains would render, sometimes not.

But, mountains or no mountains, there is no doubting Frogmore’s beauty or its uniqueness among public regions, not just because of its appearance, but because of its founding inspiration and the “third-party”, so to speak, interpretation of that inspiration by the designer.

SLurl Details

• Frogmore (Frogmore, rated Adut)

Shawn Shakespeare suggested we make a further return visit to Lam Erin’s Cherishville over the weekend, noting it had been redesigned in readiness for autumn’s arrival in the northern hemisphere. So we hopped on the Second Life express and alighted at St. Bronxton Railway Station, a quaint little end-of-the-line station that is one of Cherishville’s many new features to capture the eye and the lens.

The region is now centred on a channel that cuts it neatly in two from east to north-west. With the stone-built banks topped by paved footpaths and spanned by a single bridge, the channel is bordered on either side by an assortment of buildings; so much so, that despite facing open water at either end, it has the look and feel of being the mouth of a small but navigable river, and the buildings on either side are the result of a estuary township, the people drawn here for the open seas and the opportunities for fishing and coastal commerce.

This little township is distinctly of two halves. The west bank of the river, which includes the landing point and the aforementioned railway station (set back from the river’s edge) has – to me at least – a very English feel to it. With the buildings crowding the waterfront, I was immediately put in mind of a small river estuary in Cornwall or Devon; the stone-built houses and shops speaking of a place that had in the past grown up as a result of commerce along the coast. In fact, such is the look to that side of the river, I wouldn’t have been surprised if during our visits, Aram Khachaturian’s Adagio from Spartacus welled up in the background as the Charlotte Rhodes hove into view, James Onedin at the helm (Yes, a (possibly obscure) British TV series reference thrown in as well!).

Across the stone bridge, the east side of the river has a more American look and feel to it: posters advertise Connecticut and New England lobster, Martha’s Vineyard gets a mention and the fuel prices are in USD. Even the wooden buildings have the look and feel of rural Americana.

But no matter what influences have been drawn into the design, both sides of the river have one thing in common – something also common to both sides of the Atlantic in the autumn: rain. To say this is coming down in buckets would be an understatement; for those so inclined, brollies, coats and wellies are the order of the day for a visit! Although truth be told, the rain (mesh elements places along the line of the river) add considerable atmosphere to the setting. It pounds the footpaths and board walks, given both a sheen that reflects lights (if you have ALM enabled!), while puddles set golden, red, orange and yellow leaves drifting under the influence of a gentle, rainy breeze.

Beyond the river and town, the land undulates in low, wooded hills or spread in flower-rich ground before dropping away to the water once more. A lighthouse raises a finger into the sky to the north-east, adding to the feel of this side of the river being  more American in setting, whilst on the west side, the land is cut in part by the tracks curving out from Bronxton Railway Station, whilst also easing its way to a shingle ribbon of coast looking south and out towards two smaller islands, each topped  by  a cabin.

These cabins appear to be open to the public – at the time of our visit, the larger was unfurnished as well. However, as there are no obvious means to reach either of them save by swimming / flying, we didn’t venture any closer than the beach to find out, as we didn’t want to invade any privacy should either be for private use.

Not that any visit really is necessary: there is more than enough to see and photograph around the river front town and immediately behind its rows of buildings without every need to cross the water to the smaller islands. There are also plenty of spots scattered around when sitting and passing the time can be enjoyed – particularly along that southern ribbon of beach.

There are admittedly one or two rough elements in the design. Some of these are somewhat down to the nature of the mesh beast – it’s possible in places to find yourself walking in raindrop splashes hovering at waist level. Others may well be because Lam is still tweaking the design – on my return run for photographs, he was shuffling buildings, sorting out hovering trees and carrying out some general furnishing.  Certainly, none of the is enough to completely spoil the setting or the autumnal feeling it imbues whilst wandering and exploring.

All told, another classic design from Lam, very different from its summer iteration (read here for more), but well in keeping with the upcoming seasonal change in the northern hemisphere (climate change allowing!), and very much worth the time to visit – as always, and photos welcome at the region’s Flickr group.

SLurl Details

• Cherishville (Villa Baldeney, rated: Moderate)

Shawn Shakespeare suggested we drop into {PAPPADO}, a 1/4 Full region parcel offering a waterfront design suggestive of somewhere along one of Europe’s Mediterranean coastlines.

Unlike most 1/4 region parcels, which tend to make up a square within a region, this one looks to be two 1/8th parcels that have been joined end-to-end to present a ribbon-like setting that runs entirely across the north side of the host region, east to west ,that in turn makes for an ideal coastal build.

On arrival, I was somewhat put in mind of two places we’ve vitised in the last year in SL – Little Havana, which we dropped into in December 2018, and Keleland, which we last visited a year ago, in August 2018. The resemblance to either is somewhat superficial – {PAPPADO} has a personality all its own – but in the case of Kekeland, it is perhaps understandable given the parcel’s principal designer is Terry Fotherington, who designed Kekeland alongside of Bridget Genna.

The landing point sits at the eastern end of the parcel, on an aged stone terrace bookended by the sea to one side and an old chapel-like building on the other. Both terrace and chapel share their stonework with an arched gateway that backs the terrace, all three suggesting that are all that remains of a large structure that once stood here – although the walls running from either side of the gateway are of a much more recent design, and the gates themselves suggest they are perhaps not the originals.

Beyond the gates is an old slipway; what it may have been used for is unclear, but the hulk of an fishing boat lies canted over on the sands close by, and another, seaworthy trawler sits just off-shore – the first hints that this is as much a working destination s vacation spot.

Running westwards away from the landing point is the broad ruler of a road sitting between sandy beach and seafront properties that would appear to cater to those on vacation – there’s a motel, a cinema, a little ice cream parlour and a cake shop. Arches and alleyway provide access to a cobbled street paralleling the beach-front road and which offers a mix of possible residential houses and smaller commercial units.

Mid-way down the road sits a further set of arched gates that slice across it and standing in defiance of any four-wheeled motor vehicles that might happen down the street. While the road does continue beyond the wrought-iron gates, the surroundings take on a far more businesslike look. The beach is replaced by wharves, the sand by rocks and shingle. Signs indicate this is a place were fishing is the order of the day – although given the rocks in the sea, I would not like to try to bring a fishing boat alongside the wharves!

The buildings here also appear a lot more careworn than those to the east, again perhaps an indication that enticing tourists or holidaymakers is not their primary goal. Beyond them, where the road meets its end, a path and little bridge cross a busy brook to provide access to another small beach area backed by a modern-style house (apparently open to the public), offering little spots on the sand for folks to enjoy at this end of the parcel.

Quite where in the world this might be is anyone’s guess. The gay colours of the buildings at the eastern end of the setting put one in mind of places like Havana, but the preponderance of Vespa scooters suggest somewhere on the Italian coast. However, and wherever you chose to see it, {PAPPADO} offers a pleasing diversion (although one or two of the props could perhaps benefit from some adjustment – a corner café has a few floating chairs, as does the beach!).

SLurl Details

• {PAPPADO} (Duat, rated Moderate)