Virtual Relationships to Public Realities
On Monday, the virtual reality (VR) company Oculus announced their “VR for Good” campaign. VR for Good aims to achieve social change through virtual reality initiatives, beginning with two pilot VR film programs: one for students, and one for non-profits and upcoming filmmakers. VR for Good is the next logical step from the Story Studio, the filmmaking arm of Oculus.
“You matter in that story—the way you experience the story matters.”
–Saschka Unseld, former Pixar director, current Creative Director at Oculus Story Studio.
VR has long been considered a facet of the gaming domain. Yet while some speculate that companies are adopting VR to “help them build sales and cut costs,” and scientific studies continue to explore the cognitive impact of VR, we’re very excited to see this technology debut in the social storytelling space.
Although VR has been around for years and experimented with in a limited artistic capacity, it has yet to make the jump to mainstream. However, in watching the short project videos on the Oculus Story Studio site, you experience an undeniable sense of the impact that insightful VR content can accomplish. Oculus films like “Lost” and “Henry” do an excellent job of showcasing, “the birth of [VR as] a completely new medium,” as Saschka says.
Henry’s Premiere from Story Studio on Vimeo.
Oculus’ social-centric campaign not only tactfully positions them at the forefront of millennial marketing trends for brand positioning, it simultaneously creates and nurtures the space it needs for VR content creativity to flourish. The thematic sentiment of Oculus initiatives, paraphrased from Unseld, is to inspire storytellers so that storytellers can inspire the world. In going social and opening up for collaboration and inviting new perspectives, VR for Good will undoubtedly result in powerful and poignant narratives, and set new standards for what a story looks like.
There will be a big learning curve, but even bigger opportunities to produce entertaining, educational, and engaging content. In looking to the future, there is seemingly no limit to this medium for filmmakers and brands alike. We see a whole new realm of possibilities opening up for what can only be described as the most immersive storytelling art form the world has yet to see—or experience.
Editor’s note—Nonprofit and filmmaker applications for the VR for Good program are due in one week: June 17, 2016.
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I’m Not With Stupid
By Marty Perlmutter
Digital Hollywood has become a VR/AR festival. It’s a jolly scene in campus-like setting, the Skirball Cultural Center in Los Angeles.
At its last gathering, Digital Hollywood had 39 panels on Virtual Reality. This time there may have been more. The range of topics was mind-altering. The reality of the smattering of Scuba-mask VR displays was not.
To watch someone in a face-sucker gesture with controller in hand is somewhat amusing, but also elicits a feeling of pity. For me, wearing an Oculus evokes profound disappointment. Much of the content is 360 video which, though stitched seamlessly, is not stereoscopic and therefore lacks verisimilitude and impact. The animated material may be swell for games, but I’m not playing.
I ran into a HoloLens at the start of the gathering. It has some promise though it’s only slightly less silly looking than the face-sucker, resembling an optometrist’s rig or a lapidary’s visual gig. The HoloLens needs a dark room for impact. Its gestural control is more elegant than flailing hands of a Rift, Gear or Vive wearer, but still aberrant and not rock-solid in control function.
Let me cut to the chase: VR isn’t ready for prime time.
In fact, VR isn’t ready for dime time. It’s going to be a commercial disappointment, with successful but not blowout deployments in games and porn, little or no acceptance in theme parks and public spaces, and next to zero acceptance in the consumer market.
The $2000 array of display hardware and dedicated computer needed for the Oculus experience is going to technically challenge and financially daunt even the staunchest early adopter. The near complete lack of suitable content will kill the beast in the cradle.
Let’s talk about content. We don’t even have a descriptive language for the user’s experience. There are words bandied about – “embodiment,” “agency,” “presence” – but there’s little understanding or agreement about what these mean. Most content producers are clueless about this nomenclature or how it will/should impact image-making. Enthusiasm isn’t a replacement for competence. And enthusiasm that runs ahead of competence “does not further,” to quote the I Ching.
Those who make VR product – and there are a few real ones (Kevin Althans and Ted Schilowitz among them) – are well aware that a cinematic “language” of VR production doesn’t exist yet. It’s unclear where to put the camera to keep it out of the shot. Ditto the lights. The semiotics of film – cuts, fades, tracking shots – are not transferable to immersive. Ergo, it’s tough to describe how to make the stuff. It may work in a known environment – a survival trek on Mars pursuant to the movie or for a short brand puff. But how do you tell a story in VR?
Let’s stay with that. What, precisely, IS a “story” or narrative in VR?
A story is by definition a tale of something that happened. Past tense; first this; then that. And as a result, this.
What the $%#&* does that have to do with live immersion in the Now?
What are the rules of storytelling in an altered, concurrent reality?
I can see how to tell the story of a Syrian refugee camp, to put a VR face-sucker-wearer in that place and make ‘em feel it. I can see how to help them enjoy a self-guided tour of Mars. I cannot for the life of me tell you how to do the Boy-meets-girl/Boy-loses-girl/Boy-gets-girl-back thing that’s the heart and soul of every movie or TV narrative you’ve ever seen.
But maybe you’re smarter than I am and can tell me how.
Ready player one. Explain.
I’m going to sit this out til someone gets a clue.