Phenomenology of Myself - Does being in VR Cause Depersonalization
December 14, 2018
Images from googling “VR” in 2018
Depersonalization is a neurological phenomenon that causes individuals to have persistent or recurrent experiences of feeling detached from their mental processes or body, as if they are in a dream. During an episode, this condition can cause clinically significant distress or impairment in normal functioning and may last from one minute to a full year. Many people experience depersonalization as a self-protection mechanism against trauma that is too difficult to process mentally and emotionally. The effect of “leaving the body” is common when dealing with significant and overwhelming stress.
I have personally experienced this phenomenon, and I can attest to its psychologically terrifying and stressful effects. My recurrent episodes occurred during a time when I was undergoing significant personal stress. Little did I know that years later, I would experience this same phenomenon triggered by a supposedly benign and promising medium in which I have found myself working as an artist—Virtual Reality (VR). Through research and exposure to this medium, I have come to realize that the majority of stakeholders in VR development might not necessarily experience the dissociation, objectification, and dysphoria that some individuals may feel due to their lived experiences.
The tech industry, in general, is not a welcoming environment for non-cis men, in particular. According to the IGDA’s IT/Developer Satisfaction survey, 45% of women leave the tech industry after they have entered it. This trend extends into VR development and consumption, where products designed for this intimate technology are primarily catered to the male experience. It is imperative to discuss how emergent technologies, which are becoming increasingly present in our society, affect women and minorities who may not have a strong presence in this field due to exclusion and various forms of discrimination. As developers, it is our duty to be inclusive of the experiences of those who may not have a significant stake in the progression of VR and how it is perceived in our society, or those who might not have the luxury of access to this medium.
During the development of my recent VR project about object-oriented ontology, I discovered that once I implemented Oculus Rift Touch controllers with realistic hand avatars, I immediately encountered a dissociative depersonalization response after removing the headset. In earlier stages of my project, the physical effects and immersion of the VR world were so unrealistic that they missed the uncanny valley by a long shot and remained artificial enough for my brain to recognize that it should not be searching for external stimuli and haptic feedback. Instead, I was so far removed from immersion that I did not experience dissociation.
Image of the artists VR project in development (see it here
The depersonalization/derealization effect is not uncommon among those who use Touch controllers with the Oculus or other platforms that introduce realistic virtual avatars. Upon researching this phenomenon, I found many accounts of similar experiences. When individuals who have experienced this reaction write about their experiences on forums like Reddit, they are often met with defensiveness, denial, and even anger from others, suggesting that the original poster should not “scare people” into thinking they have something that they don’t. Other users report feelings of VR lag, stating they are “still in VR” even after removing the headset. Developer Lee Vermeulen reported dissociative sensations after trying Valve’s SteamVR system in 2014:
“I understood that the demo was over, but it was as if a lower-level part of my mind couldn’t exactly be sure. It gave me a very weird existential dread about my entire situation, and the only way I could get rid of that feeling was to walk around or touch things around me.”
The more I develop in VR, the more I am unable to be in virtual space without experiencing an extreme derealization/depersonalization episode afterward. The aftershock of feeling that I am unreal, that my hands do not belong to me, and that my body is not my own is a dysphoric and uncomfortable experience. Individuals like myself, who already experience dissociation and dysphoria in their daily lives, may be more susceptible to depersonalization aftershocks, as we may be more emotionally and intuitively familiar with these sensations. The trigger for this episode occurred when I began to involuntarily ignore the signs and flaws of the VR platform, and when the virtual space became semi-realistic. This is not solely due to the environment and imagery, but also from the real-time dynamic interaction, response, and physics of my embodied avatar. I was able to pick up and throw objects that had a real physical response with semi-realistic-looking hands, and that was immersive enough for me. The number of immersive elements in the design that spatially and intuitively relate to our bodies seems to correlate with a more dissociative experience after the headset is removed. In a study conducted in 2010, researchers found that VR induces dissociation and lowers our sense of presence in objective reality.
Source: Aardema, Frederick, O'Connor, Kieron, Côté, Sophie, & Taillon, Annie. (2010). Virtual Reality Induces Dissociation and Lowers Sense of Presence in Objective Reality. Cyberpsychology, Behavior, and Social Networking, 13, 429-35. doi:10.1089/cyber.2009.0164.
We can readily accept and adapt to our environment because, evolutionarily, we have to. The neuroplastic nature of the brain can accommodate and adapt to external somatosensory input very easily, and we rarely question changes in our immediate surroundings. During the early stages of my project, the uncanniness of motion flaws, proportional errors, and headset positional errors was sufficient to reveal the seams of the platform, distinctly separating reality from virtuality. After switching to a realistic physical environment, I subconsciously accepted this as reality and adapted to its scale, color, parallax, and physical effects.
Sometimes, I experience aftershocks in my daily life, manifesting as brief moments of uncanniness and fragmented representations of myself. I may adopt other people’s limbs as my own or briefly feel that my body doesn’t exist and is foreign to me. Nothing may trigger these sensations in particular, but they are very real and visceral reactions to my personhood and existence—my phenomenology of self. These experiences lead to questions about the ontological nature of selfhood and what defines a body in terms of agency, ownership, and experience. If I can so easily slip into someone else’s computer-generated body, what does that mean for bodily self-awareness in both reality and virtuality? These dysphoric experiences may indicate that a body is not just objectively embodied but also experientially present in one’s actions. Recognizing the dysphoria many people encounter in daily life and the disembodiment felt by numerous individuals in VR will shift our phenomenological understanding of lived experience in a body. Consequently, we must treat this subject with care when subjecting users to intimate experiences involving their bodies.
Image of the artists VR project in development (see it here
There must be a tenderness in understanding the public’s response to the very real experiences they have in VR. There is a lack of sensitivity and awareness toward people with mental health issues, people with disabilities, minorities, and women. There are blanket statements and offhand warnings that seem to imply “use at your own risk.” But when we are dealing with something that can change the infrastructure of our daily lives, we must pay more attention and believe those who report feelings similar to mine. VR is promised as a profound tool for medicine, aging, advertising, and social culture, and we must take the responsibility as developers to advocate for more testing and research before it further develops and integrates into our society.