DUNGEONS AND DISASTER RELIEF

Before I meet the sponsors of an in-world charity drive for the victims of Florida's last two hurricances, I check to make sure they're not too scantily dressed, or carrying whips, or anything else that might get them fined by the FCC, were they to do their interview on the evening news.

"These PG-13 enough?" Alana Monde asks me smiling, when I arrive. Alana is a freckled redhead in scarlet-trimmed black lingerie and stockings. I'm guessing she's relatively demure, compared to how she might be, otherwise.

"We have pants too," she adds helpfully.

Millions of Florida residents are just beginning to scrape up the wind-torn remanants of their homes, hit by Charley and then Frances, and help is beginning to stream into the state, provided by various relief organizations from across the countery. I may, however, be looking at the most unique assistance effort of them all. Because when the hurricanes came, and the damage was done, the call for help was answered in part by Perilous Pleasures, a group with a mature-themed nightclub which boasts a harem of submissive attendants and a full-service dungeon out back.

In this, they were motivated to some extent by some personal connections to the disaster. One of their members resides in Florida; and just as key, group officer Alana Monde has a sister who lives in the state.

"She is fine," says Alana. "The house is not. Trashed. Lost half the roof. Water damage all over." She sighs. "Well, we were born and raised down there... and you do take that chance, I guess."

While the desire to help was there, however, the risque (to some) nature of their group was something of a hurdle to clear.

"[B]ecause we are a 'Mature' themed organization," Alana says, "we havent been able to participate too much in past charity causes." They turned to VERTU, an established fund-raising non-profit in Second Life-- more on it here -- because the group had already launched an effort to help Florida. They just weren't sure which organization they'd donate the funds to. "VERTU knew they wanted to help the Floridians," Alana continues, "but had no named charity to support." That meant no overt public relations issues, when a decidedly adult-oriented group decided to contribute funds to the already-growing donation pot.

"With the cause being 'open with recipient to be determined'," says Alana, "we were able to step in and help... We did a fashion show with an exclusive design auction, a cash bar with theme drinks, and an auction of PEOPLE for their in-game services."

David Valentino, co-owner of the Perilous bar, agrees with her. "That was the big one."

"That netted over L$70,000," says Alana.

"What kind of in-game services?" I ask.

"Custom animations," says Alana, "building classes, music server hours, event planning..."

Valentino grins. "And domination/submission services as well."

And when they'd completed their events, Perilous Pleasure had raised the Linden Dollar equivalent of over US$1000 toward the relief effort, contributing to a grand total donation over US$2000, and still growing. (VERTU's drive is set to run until October.)

Accompanied by Valentino and Filagree Coral, another club owner, Alana teleports me to a secluded hall in Perilous Pleasures, to tell me more about the auction of residents, for residents.

The walls are lined with giant portraits of people, most of them provocatively posed in sleek, body-hugging outfits.

"The winner and what they offered are all posted on the walls or [in] the ballroom," Alana explains, "As well as what they sold for."

One portrait features a muscular young man, reclining on a couch. His services went for a $L3000 bid, according to the notecard attached to the frame, which goes on to explain: "The winner of this auction will be made to suffer for the good of all mankind! (And what slave could ask for more than the chance to do just that?)"

As we tour the hall, I ask Alana about her sister. Even though hurricanes are a recurring fact of Florida life, she says, "It's hard regardless. But you learn to appreciate that YOU and your family are OK." She changes the subject, pointing to another painting. "Now Juro here went for ten thousand. JUST for building services and classes." She winks. "NO naughtiness."

"Well," Valentino notes, "he did say he would build in the nude." He grins. "As you can see by the pic over yonder, Alana put herself on the block as well."

Ms. Monde laughs. "Yeah, I went for six thousand... for EVENT PLANNING ONLY... Again, no naughties." She winks again. "It was a mixed crowd, so we tried to get ALL involved. We had a cash bar for the less wealthy." ("Of drinks I created strictly for the club," Filagree Coral pipes up.)

I ask them how many residents in Second Life are part of their lifestyle.

"Oh my god," Alana Monde answers, "On different levels, TONS. Some just curious. Some just wanting to try it in a safe place." Up to forty residents will attend their training and educational events, she says, while there are several other groups similar to theirs, and even some private simulators are devoted to one aspect or another of the subculture. "Enough for designers to make toys, [custom] animations and clothes specific [for] them, and do damn well with those [product] lines."

"But it's a segmented community," Valentino adds, "something we are trying to change in a small way. Lots of little families and groups."

A question occurs to me. "Do you think it's because online worlds are a safe place for the curious to experiment with the lifestyle, or that folks attracted to online worlds tend to be more into [it] than not?"

"I don't think folks who game online are more into [the subculture]," Alana replies. "That is silly. I know a [lot] of scripters here, too, but that doesn't mean [a large segment] of gamers are scripters."

"I think it's a safe place for folks to indulge that part of themselves," Valentino muses. "In the real world, it can be a tough and scary culture to enter, especially for a novice."

As for the tough and scary state of Florida, help is on the way. In-world town hall meetings will be held in a few weeks, to decide which Florida organizations most deserve the donation pot.

"We haven't set the exact dates yet," VERTU founder Bhodi Silverman tells me, "because we want to be flexible and are hoping some of the Florida folk can come and speak at them." (More than a few Second Life residents live in Florida, and several topics in the company's forum have been devoted to them, so in-world friends and neighbors can worry over their safety.)

"Because we wanted to act on this FAST," Bhodi continues, "we began the campaign right after Charley, and have asked Floridians to look into who is doing the most effective work there in the aftermath."

Then again, most citizens have Florida have a few more pressing issues to deal with, right now.

"[A]s you might guess," says Bhodi, "this isn't a good time to ask them to commit to a schedule."