…here is the other thing the greybeards in 2044 will tell you: Can you imagine how awesome it would have been to be an entrepreneur in 2014? It was a wide-open frontier! You could pick almost any category X and add some AI to it, put it on the cloud. Few devices had more than one or two sensors in them, unlike the hundreds now. Expectations and barriers were low. It was easy to be the first. And then they would sigh, “Oh, if only we realized how possible everything was back then!”
Who are you to stifle somebody’s creativity, should they desire to express it in the form of a bot? ☯93MAR
What a weird time to be alive.
So here we are, then, in a trial about video games. As near as I can tell, the video games in question were created by taking game films from various NCAA football and basketball games and then transferring them technologically until actual players found themselves with NCAA-licensed avatars that live forever. It was seeing his avatar that prompted Ed O’Bannon to launch his lawsuit in the first place and, having done so, he opened up a number of interesting questions about who he is, both in real life and in virtual reality.
Is Ed O’Bannon’s avatar really Ed O’Bannon, or is it an Ed O’Bannon made by someone else so that a lot of someone elses could make a whole lot of money? Isn’t that a fundamental looting of one’s fundamental identity? Doesn’t the real Ed O’Bannon have a say in the use of his name, his image, and his likeness? After all, that’s him in that game. The avatar runs the court like he did. It shoots the way he did. It passes the ball the way he did. There doesn’t seem to be any moral basis for an argument that Ed O’Bannon doesn’t have the right to control — let alone profit from — all the Ed O’Bannons that have been created out of the work that the real Ed O’Bannon did as an athlete. How can an actual person find himself an indentured servant in virtual reality?