Abstract: Cinema and virtual reality have explored different strategies to visualize so-called out-of-body (and, more precisely, near-death) experiences, where the traditional first-person perspective ends up coinciding, paradoxically enough, with a seemingly disembodied gaze. The observers (in cinema) or users (in immersive virtual environments) get the impression that they are perceiving their own gazeless body, and they therefore feel embodied in a body that is, and at the very same time is not, their own. I maintain that this phenomenon is to be regarded as emblematic of the experience of bilocation that defines presence in virtual environments, thereby arguing against the myth of “total,” “absolute,” or “complete” immersion.

Keywords: bilocation, first-person shot, subjectivity, death, phenomenology

Evolution or Revolution?

The debate within media studies on the nature, potential, and limits of virtual reality technologies has developed through two fundamental contrasts. The first is the opposition between utopists and apocalyptists. While the former emphasize the possibilities offered by the new medium in every field of human knowledge (or even of non-human knowledge—one need only think of the issue of the application of artificial intelligence to the avatars populating immersive environments), the latter point to the risk of “disconnecting” from everyday physical reality. The second contrast, which concerns us more here, is that between continuists and discontinuists.

Oliver Grau may be counted among the staunchest champions of the thesis that virtual reality is only the last stage—for the moment—in a gradual evolution that began with the frescoes enveloping diners in Pompeiian villas and that unfolded across the centuries through the search for increasingly complex immersive effects. New technological discoveries were constantly put to the service of this pursuit, enabling the creation of the dizzying Baroque ceilings covered in trompe-l’oeil paintings, the eighteenth- and nineteenth-century dioramas and panoramas, magic lanterns, phantasmagorias, and stereoscopes, to mention only some of the stages in a journey that reached another crucial turning point with cinema. While avoiding the risk of a linear, deterministic teleology, Fabienne Liptay and Burcu Dogramaci, too, have argued that immersion may embrace “any act or experience of plunging into something, without necessarily applying to computer-generated virtual environments.” From a different perspective, Werner Wolf, Walter Bernhart, and Andreas Mahler came to a similar conclusion by taking playing a board game or reading a book as different, yet equally typical immersive experiences.

Abstract: This interview explores the underrepresented voices of women in the virtual reality (VR) industry. Through interviews with five women actively working in VR, including artists, community researchers, and industry professionals, the discussion sheds light on their experiences, creative processes, recurring themes, and ongoing challenges. From Linda Zhang's exploration of social dreaming and community co-creation to Michelle Cortese's efforts in making virtual spaces safer for femaleidentifying individuals, each woman brings a unique perspective to the conversation. The chapter delves into their candid discussions about the trials and tribulations they face in the VR industry, aiming to inspire and empower other women considering entering this evolving field.

Keywords: virtual reality, women in technology, diversity in VR, gender disparity, industry studies

I have been studying virtual reality (VR) for seven years and have noted, time and again, that the voices of women—and particularly racialized women—are missing from conversations about the VR industry and its evolution. When working in virtual reality, women and female-identifying artists and professionals face many barriers, such as income equality, discrimination, and accessibility issues. This chapter started as an honest and open conversation about how women were making VR work. I interviewed five women who are currently working in VR about how they are creating work, the themes they return to, and the challenges they continually face. These women came to this conversation with different perspectives and agendas. Some are artists (such as Nadine Valcin and Cat Bluemke), others are gamers (Paloma Dawkins), community researchers (Linda Zhang), and individuals who work in the industry, at Meta (Michelle Cortese).

Linda Zhang is an assistant professor in the School of Interior Design at Toronto Metropolitan University (TMU). She creates VR with her community in Toronto's Chinatown and is interested in social dreaming and community co-creation, and how they allow her to think critically about culture, meaning, identity, and memory. I was following her ChinaTOwn Project and its many iterations over the last three years. Michelle Cortese is currently the Design Operations Lead at Meta and teaches at New York University (NYU). I came across her book chapter “Designing Safe Spaces for Virtual Reality” and needed to hear more about her work on making virtual spaces safer for female-identifying people.

Abstract: This chapter looks at the independent video game Viridi, an indoor gardening simulation in which the player has to tend a pot of succulents. This rather unique video game premise offers such an apparent lack of challenge that it might seem unlikely to engender a state of immersive play. However, as we shall see, a closer look at the game's modalities reveals that the gradual establishment of a particular form of immersion is made possible through two specific factors: an engagement and commitment to the game building up over time, and a hermeneutic investment in the game's practice.

Keywords: immersion, video game, Viridi, zen, plant media

The video game distribution platform Steam, through its interface, informs players of how much time they have dedicated to a given game since its installation. I have never fully understood why keeping track of the amount of time spent on a game could be considered valuable information by a player. Who could gain any sense of pride from having spent dozens—if not hundreds—of hours in a virtual territory? The number of hours played over time can become impressive—or worrisome—for some players. Maybe it has to do with the immersive pull of a game.

The mechanics of some games and what they offer to players can more readily explain why the number of hours played can sometimes reach three or even four digits—think of the ever-expanding Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Games (MMORPGs) like World of Warcraft (Blizzard Entertainment, 2004) or of games without a clear end goal like Stardew Valley (ConcernedApe, 2016). Yet, at the time of writing this chapter, I have spent more than two hundred hours “in” the video game that will soon be discussed in the next few pages, even though it is a game that… well, that doesn't ask of its players to do much in terms of gameplay. As we will see, this surprisingly high figure of time played has a lot to do with how I came to consider what I qualify as “playing” this game. In this chapter, I will perform what can loosely be called an “auto-ethnography” of my time spent playing Viridi (Ice Water Games, 2015).

Abstract: Transposing performance theory to the realm of professional sports, this chapter examines the trajectory of promotional materials for the FIFA video game series (now titled EA Sports FC) since 2008. It argues that, in response to the technologies developed in these video games and the streaming industries they are connected to, Electronic Arts (EA) has shifted its marketing practices of the series from feeling like the athlete, to paradoxically being more than the athlete. Immersive sports video game technologies and their industries have increasingly remapped the athlete's body onto users, asking us to reconsider the incorporation of star athletes into these marketing campaigns as more than playful product endorsements, but as sites to analyze the relationship between image rights, digital avatars, and agency.

Keywords: FIFA video game series (EA Sports FC), performance theory, body theory, sports star, digital avatars

Before the signature tagline of the Electronic Arts (EA) Sports franchise appears at its end, the closing sequence of FIFA 10's (Electronic Arts, 2009) release trailer intercuts images of everyday fans with some of soccer's biggest stars of the 2009–2010 season, from Wayne Rooney and Giorgio Chiellini to Karim Benzema and Xavi. As a series of passport-like headshots of players and fans alike are rapidly shown in succession (fig. 14.1), a voiceover triumphantly declares: “Ten million Rooneys, ten billion Benzemas, ten zillion Xavis.” Though the trailer showcases some of the most advanced sports gaming technologies available at the time and its collective star power and colossal set pieces remain visually striking over a decade since it first premiered, its closing moments arrive in a technologically simple presentation, borrowing optical illusions from two of the most familiar pre-cinematic devices. The effect of this closing passport-like sequence functions like a zoetrope, with the flickered movement from these seemingly still headshots combining to create a sense of quasi-seamlessness through their montage, while also producing the effect of a thaumatrope, with the rapid intercutting of faces producing a flurry of blended noses, ears, eyes, and mouths that are momentarily superimposed. With one face being almost indistinguishable from the next as these images morph and meld to distort the rush of profiles, the trailer ends with the voice-over asking a most provocative question: “How big can football get?”

Abstract: This research situates Douglas Trumbull's movie Brainstorm (1983) in the context of his career, with consideration of the critical, promotional, and trade paratextual material that circulated at the time of the film's initial release. It is argued that Brainstorm presents three layers of technological reflexivity: first, its primary diegetic focus involves the technology of sensory transport and intersubjectivity; second, the film was itself initially designed to introduce a new immersive cinema technology, Trumbull's Showscan format; and third, the actual media format of the released version incorporated alternations between 35mm and 70mm. In the end, Brainstorm delivers a miniature manifesto for technological aesthetics that reveals the material and discursive conditions in which we experience and understand ideas about immersivity and the future of entertainment technology.

Keywords: Brainstorm, blockbuster, technological reflexivity, media format, Hollywood

For all the conceptual challenges the term “immersivity” poses—and the chapters in this book are a fine indication of how generative the idea has been for media scholarship—there is a general popular agreement about what it references in media technology and culture. According to this broad conception, immersivity in media refers to a manifestation—a text, an event, an apparatus—that surrounds and occupies the senses. It describes an interaction between technology and the human sensory system in the production of an environment, which is thought to be better realized when it more completely engulfs individuals and audiences. The ultimate horizon of the most immersive experience possible, then, is the total artwork, one that erases sensory possibilities outside of the artistic construction. Residing in this dominant understanding is a measure of relative success, where the most immersive media situation is that which seals off our senses from the world outside of the artwork effectively and completely.

Yet, a troubling feature resides in this conceptualization of immersivity: it is a particularly functionalist way to think about media and artistic experiences, one that proposes a metric or a scale for such erasure of the difference between artwork and experience. This notion treats the immersive experience rather like a light dimmer one can turn up—allowing less sensory interference from the outside world for maximum immersiveness—or down—allowing more interference, thus reducing sensory melding with the work.

Abstract: This chapter shifts the focus from the user's consumption of immersive media to the immersive experiences of media-makers during production. Through a case study of The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (2019), it explores how certain media production practices necessitate creators to become immersed in physical, imaginary, and virtual materials, thereby shaping the immersive experiences for users or spectators. Through interviews with core puppeteers and analysis of production processes, the chapter examines how materiality, agency, and animacy intersect to create immersive narratives. Finally, drawing on the work of Andrew Pickering and Tim Ingold, the chapter underscores the significance of considering media production practices in discussions about immersive media.

Keywords: puppetry, production studies, interviews, agency, animacy

Critical conversations about immersive media often focus on media technologies, from advances in screening technologies to digital innovations like virtual and augmented reality, and the experiences they afford to their participating users. The media technology's end user—whether configured as a cinematic spectator, a player, or otherwise—is generally the one who becomes immersed by participating within the immersive experience that the media-maker has created. In this chapter, we shift focus from the user's consumption of and participation within an immersive media text by considering media immersion as a precondition for some forms of media production. This is not to suggest that the traditional user or spectator lacks agency in the activation of the immersive text, or that the embodied experience of that immersion is neatly compartmentalized from the aspects of the text which afford and support it. Our goal, rather, is to analyze how some media production practices require creative media-makers themselves to become immersed in the physical, imaginary, and virtual materials through which they create the immersive media texts which will, in turn, afford other users or spectators’ immersive experiences. In so doing, we emphasize the role of materiality as a nexus of imagination and action in which immersive media experiences can occur.

Our case study for this production-oriented model of immersive media is the blend of sophisticated puppetry practices and digital filmmaking techniques used to create The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (Jim Henson Productions and Netflix, 2019), the prequel series to Jim Henson's cult classic film, The Dark Crystal (1982).

Abstract: Drawing on Walter Benjamin's philosophy, the chapter interrogates the notion of immersion within the context of cinematic experience. Benjamin's concept of distraction, situated against the backdrop of nineteenth-century visual culture, provides a critical lens through which to examine the immersive tendencies of cinematic representation. By juxtaposing Benjamin's philosophy with Jacques Perconte's experimental film Apres le feu, this chapter illuminates the complexities of cinematic immersion and its relationship to digital mediation.

Keywords: distraction, nineteenth-century visual culture, Kaiserpanorama, stereoscope, voyage

Along the tracks of a railroad, a landscape quite similar to those of early cinema's phantom ride shots fleetingly emerges at the edges of the frame. Looking at it from across the windshield of a train, the reflecting sunlight reveals the screen in-between. This scenery was shot on a short section of the railroad connecting Bastia and Ajaccio, in France, amidst a landscape reborn from a blaze that happened a few years before. From the front of the car, the camera frames the railway tracks at the centre and the landscape around. The tracks thus designate for the spectator a vanishing point that absorbs them towards a horizon that the train's movement keeps pushing away. As the train and the film continue, the cinematic space starts to disintegrate: the air becomes solid while the rocks seem to turn to liquid. The train goes on and so does the landscape, but some parts of it remain strangely still: pieces of it seem arrested or blocked. Pixels appear that scrupulously unsettle the surface of the image. Then, flares of a strange nature develop, devouring the landscape, whose reality is no longer obvious. The film seems to turn the reviving landscape into a digital second nature.

Abstract: Encounters is a free roaming collective experience in virtual reality. Participants are engaged in different ways and at different stages during the production process and the reception of the work. Based on analysis of this original project, how the complex relationships between spaces (physical, virtual, scenic, representational, narrative), time (real, narrative) and bodies (lived, simulated) determine a dynamic, spatialized and “embodied” narrative are examined. This involves questioning the concept of “immersion,” not only in its theoretical presuppositions, but above all in its practical applications and, thus, in its relation to multiples issues within artistic creation (technological, corporeal, affective, narrative, etc.). Also, it shows that the concept of “border-contact” from Gestalt Therapy could assist the understanding of specific immersive experiences.

Keywords: virtual reality, Gestalt theory, water

From Immersion to Immersions

The metaphor of immersion—that is, immersion in a liquid—is systematically used in the rhetoric of manufacturers who develop new tools of diffusion (virtual reality headsets, mixed-reality glasses) and in the cultural and media discourses that accompany the creations conceived for these devices, as if the technology did not only predetermine, but also homogenize the receptive experience. The multiple aesthetic potentialities offered by these artworks, the diversity of the proposed setups, the disparity of the involved “users-spectators”—and thus their reception—indeed seem to dissolve in an immersivity which appears constituent, both as an aesthetic principle of the artworks and as an “horizon of expectation” (horizon d’attente) for the public. Yet, immersion is difficult to apprehend as an aesthetic concept, to say the least, and probably even more so from an ontological point of view. Can it only be defined or at least circumscribed? Doesn't the polysemy of the term require taking its plural nature into consideration? Not a single immersion, therefore—because there could not be a definitive and unique form of reaching out to the public—, but various immersions, whose nature should be specified each time: psychological, physical, emotional, sensorial, perceptual, or even fictional, technological, or narrative.