Why we’re really not sold on VR headsets.
Hasn’t this been a long time coming? A pleasure to fnally meet you. Back in the days of The Lawnmower Man – oh we remember that trip, even if you’re wanting to erase it from the VR history lesson – cranky Luddites mocked you as pure fantasy, the type of technological triviality that only a well-tousled visionary like Pierce Brosnan could make reality. Well, isn’t the ffth-best Bond behind George Lazenby having the last laugh. See, this is going to be your year – the year VR penetrates suburbia’s collective cul-de-sac, dazzling legally medicated-types already struggling with the concept of actual reality (you know, life not lived on SM) with your kaleidoscopic, heightened version of events. You’re already a Sundance winner among audiences keen to be immersed in experiences that don’t involve heading to Utah for a flm festival in the middle of winter. And we can only sit back – while staring up at the ceiling in that unresponsive VR repose – in wonder about what lies ahead (behind, left and right), for gaming and 360-degree flms and gaming. We mentioned gaming, right? Yep, the possibilities are endless – your created worlds are infnite. Just imagine the thrill of catching a bus while engaging the experience of catching a virtual bus in high-defnition, dive-right-in 4K feld-of-view. Tickets pur-lease. One thing, though, as we glide the galaxies of Salvador Dali’s combined works to a soundtrack of pioneering German knob twiddlers, Tangerine Dream, what of porn? That’s right, what of adult entertainment? Because, and let’s be frm on this, that’s what you’re about, isn’t it? It’s why you’re here, non? Because don’t all technological advancements ultimately come back to man’s primal desire to dial his own number? We just hope they keep it off the bus.