To save money in these tough times, universities, conference planners and global firms have started holding gatherings for far-flung employees and students in the online world known as Second Life.
Sun Microsystems Inc., a Silicon Valley tech company, has only one rule: Employees should show up looking like humans.
Other companies don't seem to mind if their workers take the form of animals and other entities while they're on the clock.
On a recent afternoon in Second Life, about 20 avatars -- the personalized character each inhabitant of the virtual world adopts -- gathered for a lecture on software development sponsored by Intel Corp. The semiconductor giant planned the event to spark conversation about complex technical topics among employees and others across the globe.
The Intel employee who opened the event was a tuxedoed half-man, half-lynx. He turned over the talk to an avatar in a tight, white shirt who called himself Zombie Bob. In the audience, a woman with a ponytail and sunglasses slept in the front row, a blue-skinned man with spiky hair listened attentively and another, clad in jeans and a T-shirt, stood in the background with her arms extended as if being crucified.
Meanwhile, a man wearing a rocket pack jetted in and out of the room.
Corporate America is still learning to embrace Second Life, where creative self-expression is expected. Since Linden Lab, a San Francisco company, opened the online community to the public in 2003, it's been an eclectic place where strangely appointed avatars meet, build fancy palaces, go sailing, buy virtual goods and have cybersex.
Where people are, marketers want to be. Two years ago, companies such as American Apparel and footwear maker Adidas started filling Second Life with stores and buildings. The virtual world's early inhabitants, who largely disdain anything with a corporate tinge, rebelled by launching terrorist attacks and starting gunfights in the shops. Faced with empty storefronts and ridicule, many companies pulled out.
Now, other companies are carving out parts of Second Life as their own. They are creating employee-only islands and office buildings, then encouraging their staff to meet there. Compared with plane tickets and hotel bills, it's pretty cheap: a 16-acre private island in Second Life costs $1,000 plus a $295 monthly maintenance fee.
And instead of staring at white walls during conference calls with strangers, employees can wander a virtual paradise and see representations of the co-workers they have never met.
