One thing that has always unsettled me in these space simulators is the sense of scale.
Yes, the backgrounds I'm staring at don't scale; they're flat, fixed bitmaps due to limitations of the program.
But I let myself forget that sometimes, and the thought that I could keep moving in this direction seemingly forever, and the size of that planet wouldn't change, because the distance is so vast and the size of that planet is so huge and I am so minuscule and my progress is so infinitisemally insignificant, inspires a sense of dread, of strange hopelessness.
I suppose a VR experience would amplify this effect because now you're actually surrounded by this phenomenon: your eyes can perceive old light, ancient light, from places so distant, from objects so incomprehensibly vast, that physically you'll never be able to reach them nor make any significant progress in reaching.
I used to get this sense in mathematics sometimes when plotting graphs in scales with wild upper and lower bounds, just inconceivably large or small scales, and I could pan right and left and the curve just continues on to infinity (as numbers do..)
Mathematics itself containing the seeds of infinity is probably why I've always approached the subject with a sense of awe, that yes, it's an ingenious system used to model our world, but it contains concepts that have philosophical implications as well as numerical. I'm reminded of John Cleese's character in The Day The Earth Stood Still: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wpopz6HxU_w&t=78s
I feel like there's a term for this: dread when confronted with the infinite?
Anyway, time to go outside. The rose bushes are very near so as to be reachable :)
I recognize the feeling somewhat. First time I experienced it was when considering traveling out in the solar system, but perpendicular to the ecliptic. I liken it to thalassophobia or some deep fear of being completely isolated.
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[ 3.3 ms ] story [ 15.3 ms ] threadYes, the backgrounds I'm staring at don't scale; they're flat, fixed bitmaps due to limitations of the program.
But I let myself forget that sometimes, and the thought that I could keep moving in this direction seemingly forever, and the size of that planet wouldn't change, because the distance is so vast and the size of that planet is so huge and I am so minuscule and my progress is so infinitisemally insignificant, inspires a sense of dread, of strange hopelessness.
I suppose a VR experience would amplify this effect because now you're actually surrounded by this phenomenon: your eyes can perceive old light, ancient light, from places so distant, from objects so incomprehensibly vast, that physically you'll never be able to reach them nor make any significant progress in reaching.
I used to get this sense in mathematics sometimes when plotting graphs in scales with wild upper and lower bounds, just inconceivably large or small scales, and I could pan right and left and the curve just continues on to infinity (as numbers do..)
Mathematics itself containing the seeds of infinity is probably why I've always approached the subject with a sense of awe, that yes, it's an ingenious system used to model our world, but it contains concepts that have philosophical implications as well as numerical. I'm reminded of John Cleese's character in The Day The Earth Stood Still: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wpopz6HxU_w&t=78s
I feel like there's a term for this: dread when confronted with the infinite?
Anyway, time to go outside. The rose bushes are very near so as to be reachable :)