The SL Shakespeare Company is Second Life's premier professional theatrical production company. Its two flagship theatres are meticulously-constructed historic replicas of the Globe Theatre and the Blackfriars Theatre. It has produced theatre that has been considered “the best thing on SL,” and each production strives not only dazzle in the arena of beauty, but also in innovation. I am the founder and artistic director of the SL Shakespeare Company. Recently, I have taken over directing; our 2009 Shakespearean plays utilize Royal Shakespeare Company methods of scansion and analysis.


The SL Shakespeare Company is my spoiled and prodigal baby. But, my relation to it is perhaps stronger than that of a typical founder (or mother's) in that I'm not only vicariously living through this baby, but actually directly shaping its fate, personality, and image.

I started the SL Shakespeare Company in early 2007, when I was a floundering 22-year old, recovering from a rigorous and somewhat precocious education in science. At that point, it was just a fantasy that I toyed with each time I walked into the first model of the Globe Theatre I had built on Second Life, and opened to the public in May. People were generally amazed by my build; some found it inspiring. When I exhibited it at SL4B, I felt gallant enough to call it the SL Globe Theatre. That name has stuck. Though many people had mused about performing theatrical shows at the Globe, no one actually went ahead to do it. Finally, I figured someone had to do it. In August, I held my first auditions, and in September, we started rehearsals for a pilot machinima of a production using a bare stage of the Globe Theatre.

While I was the one who created the avatars (skin from scratch, shopped for clothing and hair from millions of possibilities), the filming, the editing, and the postwork—and pursuing the project from the “I can”-mindset of a DIY artist, I attempted to follow the advice from traditionists to expand its scope via staffing and applications for funding. The latter two administrative hassles would prove to be very difficult, but, in hindsight, I suppose it was good experience for me to try to work with impossible people! Consistent and reliable staffing in the arts on SL was always a difficult problem; while the fashion divisions have their natural glam and lull, resulting in (and from) indiginous funding, the two were naturally taken as mutually exclusive, to the extent where each party would boycott the other (arts avoid shopping, other than for freebies; fashion-types avoiding arts sim, citing unprofessional ugliness as an excuse). The Arts on SL were not only underfunded, but prior to the SL Shakespeare Company, the only sources of legitimate art were from hefty external grants. Even nowadays, despite the SLSC's reach in Second Life, there are many who would not bat an eye to even see a show because we are a virtual entity. So, from the start there was the prevalant prejudice that any art that results from within SL was necessarily kitsch and worthless. Because I had the excuse to immerse myself in the time-consuming and attention-filling tasks of creating the art, that didn't matter.

There have been several cases of coup, arising from what I have to admit, once again, my lack of social skills and my myopia in understanding real people. The first coup would occur between the machinima storyboard-preview production in October 2008 and that of the first live show in February 2008. This first insurrection was where I let my artistry and my “prissy sense of aesthetics,” take over a job I had tried assigning to someone, who was, perhaps, not the best for it. As much as I could, I had tried running the endeavor traditionally, i.e., delegating tasks to others. But, being that I started with no funds, I was stuck with working with volunteers. The worst kind, I think, are those who do it for the prestige instead of the art and love of it. (Although I had no funds, from my existing creations, I had already gained ample reputation property tied only to my avatar name.) These are the types who continuously attempt to manipulate endeavors in their own favor, attempting to get their friends cast in roles they would not be able to handle, and doing the minimal amount of work to pretend to hold a certain title (of course, minimal might be relative—there are those pitiful beings who consider doing even an hour's work as a volunteer to be arduous and something they should receive a gold medal for!). As an executive decision at the last moment, on the basis of cinematic appeal, I took over the clothing dept, and assembled my own wardrobe for the machinima production. While I had a sense of era style in mind, I made my decision based on well-baked and SL-optimized textures. The resulting machinima, which albeit labeled just a storyboard, became a piece that many would view just to see the rare instance of virtual clothing that looked both historical and good. Nevertheless, the breech here would lead to the establishment of another theatre group on SL, where many who can't stand me have found a haven in.

Despite the odds, I continued to endeavor in creating a professional establishment in both the traditional sense, and the theatrical sense. Although there was no external funding, I started by setting aside a portion of my own funds into paying stipends. By setting up several Campaigns, I managed to raise some amount of funding, but it would take over a year until our SOS Campaign would even raise enough funds to cover tier for four island sims. That endeavor was met with cynicism from those who believe that Second Life should only be used to raise funding for events whose purpose is only to create art within Second Life (albeit, ambitious enough to believe that real people would benefit from this). Moreover, there were the very few who knew me and what I did to both create and continue the SL Shakespeare Company, that thought it was ultimately wrong for me to continue to use the term “we”, when it was often just me, in the creational aspects.

For our first live show (MP1), we performed Hamlet: Act 1, Scene 1 Extended. Although there were already several full length productions shown on SL, they seemed hastily done, part-time projects lacking in both rehearsal times and artistry. We focused on a full-length single scene, with an extension of a passage from the Ghost's speech in Scene 5. The idea was to create a performance that captivated the audience, and exceeded their expectations for what was possible on SL. The actors were voice-directed by Enniv Zarf (whom I think might be perhaps better at voice directing than anything else he tries doing!), the scenic design was by Boondoggle Gruppman, and I worked on everything else in-between: assembing clothing and designing avatars and coherent skins from actor photos, playbill-making, scripting the various systems, admin and publicity. There was also the matter of blocking this virtual play, although I knew already that whatever blocking we practiced might not get implemented during show time, due to lag.

By this time, there were already many who wanted to recruit me to work on their projects, often pro bono or for little or no pay. They knew that I was working on my projects independently and in these extremely adverse conditions—and doing basically everything in it. They would attempt to get me to work on their projects (sometimes with underhanded NDA's that basically propel indentured servitude!), and when I refuse, there would be fights. It's amazing that if people know about how much it is that I do, they would attempt to try convincing me that I ought to work on their projects. To avoid cases like that, I continued “the trick in expanding the scope of credits to feign a large establishment” that I started in the credit spiel of the machinima. I cited the creators of outfits and random props we used (even ones that do not make it on stage), even though they were not directly involved in the project. Other than the actors, I used more of an ambiguous listing just to name names than to properly attribute roles. I created the ambiguous (though multifaceted) role of “visual director” for myself, though some might consider it an underestimation of what I did. The official credits listing for both productions of Hamlet are here.

On the other hand, there were many people who inquired to me for significant paying jobs, believing that I was doing this from a source of funding. Sadly, all of those who wanted several thousand US dollars' pay per month were basically beggars. I still tried, what I could, to implement the traditional setup, where a theatrical production is the result of a large team of contributing members. I tried hiring a beggar whom I had thought seemed smart, and was just down on his luck. I spent about a thousand US dollars (personal funds, but not from virtual worlds) hiring an effeminate man whom I mistakenly thought was both a friend and a programmer. He was dedicated enough to be there for every show in our first live production (MP1) in February, but it would only be later that he cites his hours spent there (none of which resulted in anything substantial—while he tried repeating things I already did, he never actually did what he was paid to do), as having taken up the funds I had paid him. I tried explaining to him that this was not right, but, he cited homeless poverty (sadly, one reason why I had paid him in the first place) as an excuse. It was a remarkable experience in learning about human nature, for me, as before this, I had fervently believed in the potential of an individual, despite their background. I had believed that if someone really wanted to do something, they could do it—even if their life had not given them the opportunity to do so in the past. Maybe I had wrongly understood what he really wanted to do. In hindsight, I would find that all professional complaints of him from many reputable people on Second Life were, in fact, valid.

That is not to say that I have not been blessed with the generous labor of friends who helped for genuine reasons. I again have to admit that I am a horrible judge of real people, in that I ended up exerting funds—which could have helped those who actually helped me—on paying those who are better at weezling funds than actually doing anything constructive.

. Nevertheless, I tried what I could to help that effeminate man, to the extent where I gave him credit he did not deserve on major playbills under the SL Shakespeare Company brand name. In our second miniproduction, he was not only never really available to help in anything, he started making it clear that—though he had yet to create the ActorBots whose idea and purpose I had outlined to him, and whom I paid him to create—he would not do anything without more funding. When I was direct enough to request a refund, and pressed on him for a reason why not, the situation ultimately turned sour, where he would blame me for his inability to pursue the task. Again, I have to try taking everything that happens to me as an educational experience. This is one of many cases, where what I took to be a gesture of generosity in helping someone achieve what I thought to be their potential turned into a case where the person I tried helping would end up trying to vilify me. Apparently, all the projects I did for free for him, which he could not do, but which he was paid to do—and which he needed the money, lest he would starve for—have only accumulated in him an envious and destructive hatred of me, for being able to do what he cannot.

At the same time, I was receiving input from people who thought that our expansion in bot technologies would destroy the virtual world. It was a complicated scenario. While any of our actor avatars could be museum displays, there was a general consensus that it would be considered wrong if AI were to log into the avatars, instead of real people. I fervently believed that the development of custom technology would help develop the nascent field of virtual theatre. While I do have a backgroud in programming, I also had to spend time on the art. And, gradually, I viewed the art as more important than the technology.

Thus, for our second miniproduction, though the usage of bots could have helped, we ended up using all real-people avatars. (Though a number of Elizabethan-era crowd-avatars were created, but I had entrusted the wrong effeminate man to make the AI work.) That is to speak, even our non-speaking roles were powered by real people. This might have helped publicity, a bit, as each person involved (even the “silent actors”) could tell their own circle of friends about it. Boondoggle Gruppman was, again, kind enough to help with scenic design, and Enniv Zarf, again, directed the voice actors. We had plenty of time to prepare—perhaps too much time. We had a special showing on April 23 along with the Shakespeare 24 event, and then a week that I had planned for reflection time, before we opened the show in May. However, during this week, all sorts of bashing occurred—from actors complaining about SL and the setup, to the personal theories of the international scholars we had consulted, to actors belittling other actors (albeit privately to me). While growing up as the oldest child in a first generation family, I had my own share of experience in mediating fights, and settling them. But, I regretably did not do much in trying to mediate these fights. Instead, I believed that constructive creation was more important than the team—I escaped into a creation frenzy, and I was actually glad that in the way I had thus pursued things, these bickering actors were expendable.

Between MP2 in April/May and SR1 in June/July, we would be receiving three rejections from three grants of different scales—the NEH, an informal unincorporated foundation based in Second Life, and the USC Network Culture Grant, sponsored by the MacArthur Foundation. For the first, I believe the difficulty was that they did not see the value of SL. In the latter two cases, I was told that my application was well-conceived. For the unincorporated foundation, there was a lot of behind-the-scenes political manipulation by people I had not-meaning-to gained the ire of; officially, I was accused of both something irrelevant and not actually valid. The only graceful move was for me to withdraw my application. It was a good lesson in human nature, again. I was becoming less and less innocent; I had started my projects believing that people were creative by nature, rather than destructive, but with each incident, I became less certain.

I thus pursued major endeavors to raise funding myself from completely inworld means. Many of the SL Shakespeare Company's devoted audience are those who live in the inner city, who cannot really afford to see live theatrical shows on their own in RL, though many of them were kind enough to expend all they could to try funding us. Others would rather spend their funds elsewhere. Raising funding directly for this would be limited to a small circle of friends and friends of friends—and that, itself, was limited, as well.

In the summer, bereft of any external funding, we tried a spontaneous-styled staged reading series of the full-length Twelfth Night (SR1). Enniv Zarf voice directed the actors, and I created a set of avatars who were distinctly grayscale to make it evident that this is not our vision—or our usual! They were to symbolize that our production, being staged readings, was devoid of the “color of motion”. We did an entire month of costumed staged readings on bare stage, pursuing a new scene per week, combining scenes 4 and 5 in the last. Unfortunately, some people who had only recently discovered us took these to be the limits of theatre on SL. But, we did manage to raise about L$225,000 in a large Hostage fundraiser at its grand finale event. This helped pay for tier.

I had been trying to get people to see that I am really better at directing the art, and thinking up plans, rather than being the only person to carry them out (though they do get carried out—and often because of the latter). In September (CP1), we performed our first modern play, as directed by an actor, who also happened to be an employee of Linden Lab, the makers of Second Life. I would have no idea this would eventually lead to an underhanded corporate intrigue, where this actor would attempt a coup after I refused to sign over my islands to him gratis, and so that he would do the thing I would not—which was to degrade an expansive four-simulator infrastructure into just one or two. His gesture was also to basically make worthless an existing wealth of content, which I created through toil and sweat from nothing—which those who have received millions of US dollars in grants could not achieve. Nevertheless, I had more administrative experience than they had—even counting from my real life only. Sadly, though he was politically adept enough to make the gesture seem altruistic, it was far from the case. Thus, when I rejected his offer, he reacted also with the ire of a man who had expected a large sum of money, and suddenly found it vanished. It was an experience in understanding human nature, again. While it really should have been a point of whether he would gain status in Linden Lab for being the undeserving and destructive heir to this enterprise, he made it seem as if it was me vs the actors. (What's interesting about him is that though whenever I would speak of the value of the enterprise, he would basically tell me there is no value in it—and yet, why would he react so fervently to the loss of something of no value?) Thus far, I had used up all my resources to fill in the gaps needed to make the endeavor run—I hadn't the time to be an actor... and I guess, that stageold tradition of actos vs the producer carried through.

But, before this incident, we would hold one more production with people-actors in 2008. This was AP1, our first performance of an entire unabridged act of a Shakespearean play (Twelfth Night, Act 1). It was done with our usual extravagance, new technologies, and all—except, at the end of the last few shows, I announced something startling. That, it would all end—for lack of funding. This was the thing that would eventually cause that final coup before I decided that the way to run things would be for me to direct the productions myself—and even necessarily understudy.

Basically, it meant that I'd have to do everything myself. Again, I was faced with the difficulty of running something that looked of enterprise-scale, with nothing... but myself. I use we, because I often like to give myself the illusion that there are others—but, in fact, it's just me. Sadly, the case has it that were there others, they would actually be less constructive in what I would do just by myself. It is simply the rare csae where you get to witness a project as created by a devoted individual with a varied load of skill and passion.

For Twelfth Night, I changed the credit listings slightly to distinguish between the designers (who have had no direct contact) with a separate listing in the wardrobe dept. For reasons as mentioned above, to not give myself too much of a spotlight on all the nitty gritty work I did, anyone who did any custom work (even if they just modified a hair or shape), would be deemed a member of the Wardrobe Dept.

The bulk of the reputation property of the SL Shakespeare Company currently does not rest on its lands, but the assets and brand image it has created. There has been a rise in the prevalance of well-created virtual items on Second Life since the founding of the SL Shakespeare Company. But, the SL Shakespeare Company continues to retain its brand name, as a mark of envious quality—that too many believe is the result of loads of funding and staff... when, in effect, the pursuit of even minimal funding to pay for land fees and staff have been deterrents against creativity. .

Below, I will attempt to document in (an inordinate amount of?) detail what I did for each production (and citing credit to others where appropriate).




I create each character, from scratch, from the skin, using a combination of 2d photo sources and artistry. The shape of the character is often largely for utility, i.e., to fit a hair without much adjustment of the hair, or to fit an outfit or pose. I usually have some clothing ideas in mind, as well as where to purchase them. The clothing is fit to the character, often based on conceptual sketches. Until late 2008, I used to spend about 3 hours a day just catching up to the latest fashions on blogs and shopping inworld. I also get the chance to create original costuming, when I have the time (or when a concept intrigues me enough to make me have to make it!) I am also responsible for creating all visual elements.

In reverse chronological order (See here for more info on production serial):

OEP1. Twelfth Night, Act 1: The Open-Ended Run Mug Shots
Press Release	While most characters are from AP1, the new casting meant some of the characters from the “Preview Season Production” did not fit the voice actor's voice. Orsino and Maria for this production look vastly different from the last. Andrew and Olivia also have new hair—Olivia with hair more fair, and Andrew with hair that looks like flax on a distaff! Finally, Toby looks more brash, and less young—more fitting with the traditional interpretation (and also due to the new casting). While Olivia retains the same skin I used in the AP1 production, I modified Olivia's eyebrows slightly to convey in her a look of “baleful uncertainty”, as well as her lips, which I imagine as thin to convey an appearance of authority (She has to remain lady of her house and her father and brother's estates). There are traces of tear-stained sadness in the shape of her slightly-swollen eyes. She had spent some time in seclusion, hence her more pale complexion. I made Andrew look more like the country-Lord that he's described to be. His hair also looks moppy like flax on a distaff. His eyes are slightly bigger (to emphasize on his childish innocence that adds to the comic nature of his character), and his face slightly more weighty, to account for an affluent background. Overall, he looks gullible, such that he might be wheedled into a certain Toby's person-based purse. Maria, in this production, looks young, with cunning eyes, and lips that might be taken as cruel, to foreshadow her machinnations in Act 2. She has a peasant's nose, and sharp facial features, otherwise. Hair tied up, as befitting a servant, and also out of convenience. While Olivia and Andrew are based on skins I created for earlier productions, I created a brand new skin to convey Maria in this form. Duke Orsino also looks younger in this production. I created a new face for him to make him look both like a duke, and also someone innocent enough to look like a man who can fall in love with the concept of love itself. The moustache was actually used to cover the lack of time I had in finetuning his nose, but seems to help add to his character! Toby Belch looks much older in this production, which is in accords with interpretations that he is more like an old man who behaves like a teenager. His complexion is different than Olivia's, more balanced and colorful, northern Italian. There is the look of both guile and brashness on his face. Though he has a playful look on his face, his eyes are ice cold, though, to foreshadow what he would do later in the play. Overall, though, he doesn't look serious, and looks quite simply like an aged sot! (Please see the original AP1 post below for more details on the rest of the characters!)
Playbills & Costumes
Press Release	Playbills Playbill design for this production was fun. Unlike previous productions, I had both less time and more time for it—I had to both voice direct and visual direct the entire production. I wrote a number of analysis/interpretation segments as well as an annotated script to help the actors get into the role of thinking about their roles (metaroling!). The Triumvirate Poster features Olivia and Orsino looking at Cesario, though with different intent. Olivia looks sadly (perhaps slightly hopefully) in love with Cesario, and Orsino looks like he's living vicariously through Cesario! I created a few 'Actor Focus' posters for this series, which is just a play on matching select character faces to abstract backgrounds (with a slight theme to it) mucked up for fun with layers in Photoshop. Feste's poseter is a bit special, though, with a variation that conveys the love triangle using a love-star-flower. (I actually meant to make it look kind of like Clockwork Orange.) SL Shakespeare Repertory Performance of Twelfth Night was a grand opening event at the Blackfriars. It featured a cast that looked all male, and was just a single scene, where we meet Sir Andrew Aguecheek! The poster was designed to look irreverent! (For this black box theatre production, I very hastily put together the characters. Clothing from a mix of creations by June Dion. Skin from myself, and also used in other productions. Hair from various sources.) The main playbill features character faces and a very subtly conveyed love polygon—Malvolio, in a rather intimate position to Olivia, but looking at Cesario out of ire, but with the blank expression of a butler-esque servant; Olivia, looking at Cesario with a blank hope on her face, as if Cesario would be her solution away from the pangs of mourning; Orsino looking at Olivia with interest on several levels. Feste is sort of awry. Maria is paired next to Toby, but she looks with both guile and smugness at Malvolio. Viola's face stands out in the foreground; she looks both innocent and worried, and the mesh of faces in the back are really characters part of her dream. Indeed, the poster's official name is "Viola Dreams of Illyria." Costumes Except for Maria (and the special 1-day only performance by the Repertory Players), all of the outfits were recycled from AP1. Maria now has a nightgown for her Scene 3 appearance. I'd wanted to make Scene 3 seem revel-esque with a lot of double entendres, a smart servant woman slightly infatuated with one of the two drunk men. Beyond the Visual Arts Beyond the Visual Arts, I was also the director and producer for this production, tackling the challenge of bringing an open-ended run of a Shakespearean production to life, while trying to maintain standards by using scansion and close-reading techniques from the Royal Shakespeare Company. I also created using LSL lag-less toggle-inPlace-on moving stage lights. To help facilitate our (much)-reduced-priced ad sales in programmes, the programme booklets take a series of UUID's from a web server, and thus can be updated even after they have been deployed to others. We also presented Scene 2 of this production following a brief talk I gave on Virtual Theatre and the SL Shakespeare Company @ the NAST conference last March.