Body Composition
When a character picks up something, strangely this does not mean that the object teleports into their backpack. To make sense, they need to use their hand. Similarly, when they walk, their legs and arms move, when they look to one side their head moves, and when they’re fleeing in mindless panic every part of their body moves. The issues involved here extend beyond mere animation: If characters can move their hands, that implies they have hands to move.
It doesn’t take long following this line of argument to conclude that bodies must be regarded as assemblies, as discussed in Chapter 4. Following on from our look at senses, though, it’s natural to ask the question: What happens if a body part works above or below normal levels?
As with senses, the default is that every body component works to its full potential. Because of the way that they interact, it’s more difficult to make individual body parts superhuman than it is for senses; there may be comic potential in giving a character a hugely muscled ring finger, but it wouldn’t be a lot of use unless the rest of the hand and arm was muscle-bound too. For this reason, most of the consequences of having improved body parts in virtual worlds are abstracted as character attributes instead.
When body parts don’t work for whatever reason, it’s a different matter. Tedious though it may be from a programming perspective, it is nevertheless possible to put a guard on all commands to restrict their individual use if a body part (or assembly of parts) that is out of action 1. For example, if your hands are tied behind your back and you want to pick something up, you can’t. You might be able to “get key with teeth,” but then you wouldn’t be able to use your mouth assembly until you’d let go of it. Note that some body parts are connected to senses. Most importantly, if a character’s eyes are shielded or missing, then they can’t see anything.
It’s tempting to use this idea to build an abstract anatomical model of a human body so that the effects of various events can be worked out. “Ah, when the nose and mouth are both blocked that means no air can reach the lungs, therefore no blood can be oxygenated, therefore no muscles can work, therefore death results.” In practice, though, this can be handled explicitly without the need for deduction. A spear through the chest means your character is dead—that’s really all you need to know.
Body parts can cease to function for three main reasons:
Restraints. You can’t run because you’re wearing diving boots.
Damage. You can’t run because a tiger ate your leg.
Flaws. You can’t run because you have a club foot.
Damage can arise in some combat systems that allow for “critical hits” or “targeted damage.” Although ostensibly permanent, there will almost invariably be some means by which a lost limb can be recovered.
Flaws are the quirks that some virtual worlds allow players to assign to their characters in return for more pick points. Again, although these are supposed to be inherent aspects of a character’s identity, they can frequently be cured. The fact that quirks can (literally) “add character” is only of long-term interest to hard role-players; soft role-players may regret an early decision to take a flaw, and in a virtual world without permanent death they will complain rather than start anew.
Note that a character lacking one or more organs, limbs, or senses can be considered disabled 2. There are ethical issues arising from this, discussed in Chapter 8.