Humans are, by their nature, social creatures. Of course, this varies wildly from person to person, but the underlying need for interaction with other humans is at the heart of our actions. As technology has progressed, the nature of our contact with the outside world has changed. The internet is at the heart of most of our socialising – emails allow us to keep in touch with distant friends and with the advent of Facebook, the ease with which we can follow the minutiae of hundreds of acquaintances is staggering. However, neither of these technologies allow for random connections with strangers – social interaction on the internet is akin to a massive hub of billions of interconnecting lines, yet, we are only aware of the existence of a few hundred of these; our communication is limited to being with the people we know.
Since its inception, Facebook has struck me as being a curiosity. It claims to help you connect and share with those in your life, but I would argue it merely allows you to share disinformation. In this alternate reality, we allow ourselves to be portrayed as we wish. Our lists of favourite books and films are consciously thought up to keep in line with the image we wish to portray to the outside world. Our favourite quotations are meticulously selected to reinforce this image. To the outsider, Facebook is a network of interacting idealised images dreamt up in the minds of real humans; it is pure spectacle.
Chatroulette extends this to levels we haven’t seen before. Colliding with strangers, we can be whoever we want to be and express ourselves in any way we want. This is the sort of blind social interaction with strangers that the internet was made for. When hearing about this, the possibilities in my mind were overwhelming – I could pretend to be a shy, yet charming Frenchman, asking Brits about their love of tea and the Queen. I could be an abrasive Russian, arguing politics with equally abrasive Americans. The limits to my assumed identities were the limits of my imagination – if I thought it, I could become it. I’m sure others had the same idea.
How disappointed I was. I had forgotten that free from the shackles of restraint, the internet is a dark place. After several demands for me to show my breasts, several more displays of onanism, I finally stumbled across someone who was willing to have a conversation. It was brief, but when he said “on the internet, you can be anyone”, I felt a certain resonance of truth about this aphorism. Yet, I found that I could not escape myself entirely. For example, many potential chat partners instantly disconnected as soon as my webcam loaded – presumably because, by virtue of being male, I couldn’t provide what they were looking for. Equally, many females, upon noticing that I didn’t conform to their idea of an attractive male, saw fit to give me the metaphorical boot.
After 20 minutes of stilted and curt conversations, I stumbled upon what appeared to be a fairly meek teenager, holding up a sign saying “Show me your tits plz”. Rob, 15 years old from Boston, Massachusetts, was fairly nonchalant about the desperation in his request. “What can I say? I’m young, I want to see hot girls,” he said with a heavy New England accent and trademark teenage indifference. I asked him how often he spent on Chatroulette. “Depends. Weeknights from 8pm-12am after I’ve done my homework. Weekends whenever.” Good to see Rob putting his education before any extra anatomy lessons he may be receiving. Speaking of which, before I let him continue on his quest, I had to ask him how often he had found a woman who would indulge his request. “None yet. Once I thought I was close and was going to take a screenshot for my friends, but she was just playing with me.”
Before long, I had almost become desensitised to the steady stream of lonely men searching for someone who wasn’t me. Many of them clicked ‘next’ before I was able to question their state of dress (or, to be more accurate, state of undress) until another random correspondent pointed out he could hear me listening to Clouddead, stated that he liked them and we began to discuss similar artists. I was sitting at my desk, talking to a bare-chested man who probably wanted to find something to masturbate to, and ended up discussing alternative hip-hop.
Steven, a 28-year-old from Manchester, said he had no real qualms about exhibiting himself in front of strangers. “It allows me an eye into other people’s lives, and, in turn, they can have an eye into mine.” But what if people don’t like what they see? “Fuck them. How hard is it to find someone else? Not very. If I want a chat and I see a couple exhibiting themselves, I move on. If I want to exhibit myself and see a bearded guy sitting at his desk, I move on.” The irony was not lost on me. I bid Steven farewell to carry on his search for someone else who would appreciate his semi-nude company more than I did.
It seems that whilst we can construct an identity on the internet, we cannot seem to free ourselves from preconceived ideas of beauty. We are all searching for acceptance, but within the world of Chatroulette, it seems that few are accepting. This is largely understandable. Just as in real life situations, Chatroulette can hardly force two unwilling people to interact.
But it’s not all voyeurism and frustrated teenagers, Chatroulette is equal parts surreal, addictive and frightening. It is, above all, entertainment with strangers. As Phil from Atlanta pointed out, “I use Chatroulette because it’s pretty much instant amusement. Strangers can make me laugh, and if they don’t, I can instantly find someone else who might.”
Alexander Britton
Tags: chatroulette
