The term 'Princes of Irukandji' didn't exist at the beginning. Neither
did Irukandji for that matter.
I just had one sim,
Tamita
Island, and three friends who followed me from my old rented block on
Amelia.
So there we were. I set up my friends as estate managers
and we went about creating stuff and
having fun.
Within a few days, people began arriving who we'd never
met before, and by week's end, Tamita had a steady flow of
visitors.
They came, they shopped, and they rented my holiday
bungalows. And unexpectedly, they wanted to stay, to buy land on my artistic canvas to build
homes of their own.
I decided to add more sims; one bay on each face of Tamita, and another full island
tagged onto the western bay, which I called Alantay Island.
I promoted the new sim to a distinctly gay market, and Alantay sold out in a week, setting a new SL record.
So, I kept adding
more and more islands, and I named the fledgling continent Irukandji.
As I built each new sim, I
found them developing distinct personalities, and as a writer, I began
wondering what their history might be.
My head raced as it did, and
given the tropical theme and my penchant for colonial architecture,
I decided on a South Pacific kingdom.
That said, I didn't
want to be king. It made sense then, that the continent should be a
slightly clunky mix of tribes governed by a council of princes. It all
just fell into place from there.
We were in there to have fun though,
and so were the new residents who had chosen Irukandji to settle down.
We ran with the regal theme, and on Tamita Island we built a palace with
sweeping grounds and pools - and no doors. Anyone could visit, and
really, everyone did.
I remember one Sunday where we had forty
avatars chattering away around the pool. They were good times, and I
realised that our formula worked.
Solid rules in the covenant, coupled
with laidback Aussie charm. And well, an Estate Team composed of
pretty lads (and one token lass :)) who wandered about in scanty but regal outfits doing
their jobs.
Some of the guys immersed themselves in the roleplay
aspect of being a Prince, and for one in particular, I think the experience
saved his life.
We all grew, even me - especially me. Irukandji
was a terribly nurturing place.
Our motto was 'Freedom - Peace -
Integrity', and we lived by that code. A mythology grew around us and
those tales became the core of Irukandji culture.
I encouraged their
telling; expanding and perpetuating the legend, and the story teller that I
am, created a complex history called Tales of Irukandji.
We formed the Irukandji Ministy of Heritage and Culture. We had our own
festivals and events, from which new histories were made, and our lives
became a living novel. Irukandji soon became as famous for its Princes
as for its beautiful beaches and bays.
For some people, virtual
worlds are just escapism, but for our merry band it was a curative. It's
said that like attracts like, and not by design, I found myself surrounded
by others who were damaged in some way.
The effect of our kinship cannot be
put into words. Irukandji saved lives in the real world. It fixed people
and gave them hope. It was fucked up and it was wonderful.
Regrettably though, art is rarely a match for tyranny, and Irukandji fell.
It lasted two years on the Second Life grid but was eventually dragged down
by SL's corporate greed and mismanagement.
My estate wasn't the only
one to go. I only had 70 sims out of the 1000 that collapsed, and the
next year, another 800 followed. The artists fled en masse leaving SL
a barren grid.
In the intervening months and years since, I've been
chipping away at my own grid,
You3D, and I have a version of Irukandji up
and running there.
At the moment (January 2012) I also have a single
sim on SL but I'm not sure why. I'll probably let it go soon.
The Princes are still hovering around though, and I guess it shows critics
of virtual worlds that true friendships can actually be forged. For
myself,
I count the Princes as my family and friends.
They helped run
Irukandji
without pay, purely for the spirit of the community - building roads and bridges, making tunnels and
airfields and harbours, planting trees, digging holes, holding local
elections, and adjudicating
disputes between neighbours.
But most importantly, they shared my
virtual life, which so often overlapped with my "real" life. To me they were family. More than family.
You can read more about them via the links below.