This singing competition show features singers who perform for a chance to win $100,000. But the judges don't watch them sing, they watch avatars that the contestants have helped design. These avatars, which bear creative stage names and project whimsical personae, mirror the backstage performances of the actual singers through motion capture technology.
Immediately, one can foresee the possibility for creating avatars that differ from the actual performer in size, ethnicity, age, gender, or general appearance. The viewer has to decide how he feels about that. Does it open a world of invention, deception, or even self-deception?
I was concerned that watching the judges watch a holographic performance on stage was akin to watching someone else playing a video game: it can be enjoyable, but it's not the same as playing the game yourself. Then I discovered that the judges are not watching a stage performance; they are watching the performance on a video screen, just as I am. I found that discovery annoying.
When the judges evaluate the performances, it is clear they are not reviewing only the vocal performances. The (sometimes presumed) back stories of the contestants definitely affect their decisions. And so do the avatar images themselves. Some judges might place a premium on vocal ability, while others evaluate the performance holistically, like an art installation. Regardless, they usually respond to whatever evokes their emotions.
I watched the first two episodes, which include all ten of the series' performers. The talent is good. And there is a cross section of styles and personalities.
This technology carries a cautionary message. Just as we have seen people hide behind the anonymity of the internet and/or find more satisfaction in virtual relationships than bonding IRL, the use of avatars is a portent of future e-socializing, which will bring even greater problems. A new style of catfishing may emerge. On the other hand, some will find a hopeful message about self-actualization in the freedom offered by avatars. As Grimes--who is a judge--said, "I feel like I know a lot of people who feel a lot more accepted in the digital realm. I know I do."
By the end of episode two, I felt there was an authentically therapeutic effect for some contestants. But it was not just from hiding their physical realities. In fact, when the "losing" contestant reveals his "true" self at the end of each episode, that is the best moment of the show.
Personally, I felt a kind of love for an unlikely contestant---a trucker with a wolfish avatar who produced an unexpectedly operatic voice. And I expect other viewers will find their favorites.
Immediately, one can foresee the possibility for creating avatars that differ from the actual performer in size, ethnicity, age, gender, or general appearance. The viewer has to decide how he feels about that. Does it open a world of invention, deception, or even self-deception?
I was concerned that watching the judges watch a holographic performance on stage was akin to watching someone else playing a video game: it can be enjoyable, but it's not the same as playing the game yourself. Then I discovered that the judges are not watching a stage performance; they are watching the performance on a video screen, just as I am. I found that discovery annoying.
When the judges evaluate the performances, it is clear they are not reviewing only the vocal performances. The (sometimes presumed) back stories of the contestants definitely affect their decisions. And so do the avatar images themselves. Some judges might place a premium on vocal ability, while others evaluate the performance holistically, like an art installation. Regardless, they usually respond to whatever evokes their emotions.
I watched the first two episodes, which include all ten of the series' performers. The talent is good. And there is a cross section of styles and personalities.
This technology carries a cautionary message. Just as we have seen people hide behind the anonymity of the internet and/or find more satisfaction in virtual relationships than bonding IRL, the use of avatars is a portent of future e-socializing, which will bring even greater problems. A new style of catfishing may emerge. On the other hand, some will find a hopeful message about self-actualization in the freedom offered by avatars. As Grimes--who is a judge--said, "I feel like I know a lot of people who feel a lot more accepted in the digital realm. I know I do."
By the end of episode two, I felt there was an authentically therapeutic effect for some contestants. But it was not just from hiding their physical realities. In fact, when the "losing" contestant reveals his "true" self at the end of each episode, that is the best moment of the show.
Personally, I felt a kind of love for an unlikely contestant---a trucker with a wolfish avatar who produced an unexpectedly operatic voice. And I expect other viewers will find their favorites.