Inside Second Life

After studying physics at the University of California at San Diego, Rosedale created a video compression technology which was bought by RealNetworks, the powerhouse in digital media delivery, in 1996. He became Real's chief technology officer, and would make enough millions to retire, but he didn't leave his dream of a simulated world behind. One day, Rosedale preached his grand vision to Jaron Lanier, the dreadlocked Berkeley professor credited with coining the term "virtual reality." Lanier says he gets approached weekly by entrepreneurs looking to cash in on virtual reality, but Rosedale's ambition and drive stood out. "It's similar to the talent of great military warriors," Lanier says, "who are incredible persistent and have the ability to deal with bizarre stuff, and be a sweet talker. He has all those qualities."

But Rosedale's adrenal riffs on data gloves and virtual reality bodysuits raised eyebrows even among the seasoned digerati at Real. "He had some ideas that were out there, and some that were way out there," says Rob Glaser, CEO and chairman of Real. Rosedale could get explosively frustrated when people didn't see eye-to-eye. One night in 1999, he and some buddies from Real went to see the Matrix. After the flick, the guys hit up a bar, tossing back drinks as they effused over the film's vivid depiction of a virtual reality. Everyone, that was, except for Rosedale, who sat at the table sulking about the film's dystopian view. When one of the guys asked him why was being such a buzzkill, Rosedale grabbed him by the shoulders like a mad scientist and barked, "I'm going to build that! And it's not going to turn out that way!"

Rosedale took his millions and split. A pivotal stop was Burning Man, the orgiastic festival in the Black Rock Desert of Nevada. A self-described introvert, Rosedale got turned in a major way by the togetherness and expressiveness of the scene. "I would just walk up to you and be like 'Dude, nice outfit,' " he says, "I wasn't high. I was just walking around and just felt that way." There was something about being stuck in the desert with a group of strangers, and forming what he calls this "magical social construct" that spoke to him deeply. And, though he's only been to the festival once , he says it remains a profound influence for the alternate society he's building.

"Burning Man is wondrously purposeless," he says. "It asks you not to have a reason to be there. You're brought together by hostility of the environment. You think you could die out there, and you could die. It gets cold, the wind comes up on you. You're brought together by a need to protect each other in the harsh environment. Second Life is a new scary, difficult environment. People are brought together by their desire to help each other through it at the beginning?Burning Man is Second Life."

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With 3-D video technology for computers and networking hitting the tipping point in 2000, Rosedale knew the time was ripe to build the code. Back in San Francisco, down an alley called Linden Street, he began bringing his own virtual Burning Man world to life. He started by soldering together a Lawnmower Man-like contraption he called the Rig. The Rig now occupies a cluttered backroom at Linden Lab, and Rosedale eagerly showed it to me during my visit. It's a hunk of steel hooked up to a computer with a headrest attached. You lower hear head against the rail, and put your hands flat against a board so that you are immobilized. Computer monitors surround you. Though you can't move, tiny strain gauges pick up the slightest twitch in your hands and head, and translate this information into movement on screen.