Why mimicry in digital experiences and the Metaverse turns us off
The rise of 90s aesthetics, imperfection, and simplicity
A vibe shift is happening. The VSCO girls have skipped town. My photos remain untouched. I’m reaching for knitting needles over my iPad. We are tired of digital experiences that mock our analog world because no one likes to be mimicked. Technology isn’t always the answer to our problems.
The grand pitch is that the Metaverse with its avatars and digital replicas will be the new frontier for us to work, socialize, and relax in. A perfect concoction was created by the pandemic for us to imagine this alternative future. With just a virtual reality headset, you can be in your room and access everything. Currently, I would rather bury my VR headset and run to the forest where nothing has to load.
We crave friction, imperfection, and slowness
The tangible, physical aspects of our routines are shrinking. With unprecedented inflation, we question whether there will be a cushy fully-stocked grocery store at our next visit. Or wondering why we feel “blah” after giving our final presentations on Zoom, as Adam Grant describes it as “languishing.”
I’d argue that it’s the effort we put in physically showing up or creating a physical artifact that makes us feel most alive as humans. We see this sentiment carry itself in the rise of disposable film cameras, vinyl record players, intimate concerts, home gardens, and 90s aesthetics (hi, Olivia Rodrigo fans).
The slow, tactile, and random quality of the real world is unbeatable. Its imperfections and unpredictabilities bring delight.
For instance, The New York Times article “Art School Looked Like a Lot of Fun In the ‘90s” captures a time when cameras were used to document “the rhythm of life, not the pose.” Technology was simpler. The stress of determining what was real or not was less pertinent.
Why are we ditching our iPhone 13 Pros for film cameras? Daniel Arnold is a photographer who lands gigs at Kanye West’s parties to doing photoshoots that mimic DoorDash order confirmation snapshots for The Cut. His photography style is the gold standard for what aesthetic is currently being sought after on Instagram. One-of-a-kind film snapshots are in and crystal clear phone camera shots are out. The friction for the film to develop properly make the process suspenseful, rewarding, and unpredictable.
It reminds me of Robert Morris’ 1961 artwork “Box with the Sound of Its Own Making.” There’s an ordinary wooden box that plays an audio soundtrack of the hammering, sawing and sanding that went into making the box. The gap in audio allows us to use our imagination to fill in the gap. During the moments of silence, we assume that the maker is resting or retrieving more supplies. Even though we are missing the visual component of the making process we crave the fuller picture rather than just the final product.
Let us spontanously engage in cheap thrills— no strings attached
During the height of the pandemic, I randomly hopped on one of the many JUMP bikes laying around outside in Seattle. These are electric bikes that you pay $1 to unlock and 36 cents per minute. I honestly finished that bike ride feeling extremely rejuvenated in ways that no digital app or product could evoke. It reminded me of the childlike wonderment of biking and persuaded me to invest in an actual adult-bike (other than the hand-me down bike from high school).
Imagine a virtual bike ride. The digital trees, birds, and grassy fields become an additional surface area for monetization opportunities. There are more grounds for control to collect data and feed us information as speculated in this hyper-reality YouTube video. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a price tag on simplicity. To have an ad-free experience, you must pay a fee.
TECHNOLOGY CAN (NOT) SAVE EVERYTHING!
The problem with using virtual reality to address the friction in human connection, creativity, and collaboration is that it often creates new ways to drift apart in digital spaces. It’s this false sense of connection that creates social isolation that affects our well-being. As designers, we should focus on ways emerging technology can offer different experiences that do not hold us back from flourishing in the physical world.
A reminder that user-experience design and interaction design goes beyond a screen. It considers the larger context and root cause of the problem where maybe technology is the answer and maybe not.
In the future, if we find ourselves fully immersed in the Metaverse we might crave the mixed emotions of sitting in traffic on our daily commute. In traffic, you are close yet so far from strangers, all headed somewhere, but once you arrive at your final destination it will feel all so good.