Warner Takes a Virtual-Reality Trip
Mark Warner is burning up the shoe leather—and the jet fuel—in his I’m-not-running-for-president-just-yet travels. By Garrett M. Graff
Comments () | Published October 1, 2006
September saw the former Virginia governor pass through Nevada, California, Arizona, New York, Iowa, Missouri, New Hampshire, and South Carolina. He’s also making side trips into a different reality.
Warner dipped his toe into the online world known as Second Life, which signed up its 600,000th user the day he made his appearance. The free-to-join digital universe, which has its own currency and laws of physics in which users create a character, or “avatar,” allows thousands of people to play together in a virtual world doing, well, things they do in the real world—chatting, exploring places, and buying property.
When Warner signed in to visit this virtual world, a Second Life “reporter” questioned him as a crowd of other players looked on. One Warner aide created her avatar as a slim, sexy brunette in a white pantsuit and black top exposing her taut midriff, while another appeared as a midget in Colonial garb.
The Washington Post’s Dana Milbank appeared as an amoebic man in a white dress and a shock of neon-purple hair; nearby, his colleague Chris Cillizza —appearing as a clean-cut young guy in jeans and a white T-shirt—seemed normal, except he was levitating over the crowd.
One nameless participant showed up as a large pile of tubes—a reference to how Alaska senator Ted Stevens recently described the Internet.
Warner dipped his toe into the online world known as Second Life, which signed up its 600,000th user the day he made his appearance. The free-to-join digital universe, which has its own currency and laws of physics in which users create a character, or “avatar,” allows thousands of people to play together in a virtual world doing, well, things they do in the real world—chatting, exploring places, and buying property.
When Warner signed in to visit this virtual world, a Second Life “reporter” questioned him as a crowd of other players looked on. One Warner aide created her avatar as a slim, sexy brunette in a white pantsuit and black top exposing her taut midriff, while another appeared as a midget in Colonial garb.
The Washington Post’s Dana Milbank appeared as an amoebic man in a white dress and a shock of neon-purple hair; nearby, his colleague Chris Cillizza —appearing as a clean-cut young guy in jeans and a white T-shirt—seemed normal, except he was levitating over the crowd.
One nameless participant showed up as a large pile of tubes—a reference to how Alaska senator Ted Stevens recently described the Internet.






