Scrying, Sending and Snapstreaks

    Harken back with me to the ancient times. The year is 1990. Public communication is public. Interpersonal communication takes place in person, over the phone or via letter. Categories are distinct, clear, and seemingly immutable. Relationships are almost always begun, developed, and dissolved face-to-face. Certainly nothing will shake that firm theoretical foundation in our understanding of how humans make meaning with one another. Then: Internet 2.0, pocket-sized computers we still call “phones”, swiping right, and algorithm-powered personalized news feeds.  Joseph Walther’s theory was initially developed to help us understand how we process information communicated online to shape and develop our social worlds. Contrary to initial skepticism, SIP asserts that not only can we form satisfying relationships online, but that sometimes those relationships are comparatively more satisfying than our in-person relationships. All the conversation; none of the halitosis.

    Similar to Uncertainty Reduction’s focus on using information to form impressions (and increase certainty), SIP claims that relationships grow to the degree that individuals a) gather information and b) use that information to form impressions. In game terms, scrying (as long as the target fails its Wisdom save) is just as good as observing the target in person so long as you can learn the information you need. Gather information. Form an impression. Act on that impression.

    Prior to SIP, most communication scholars favored a cues filtered out approach, meaning that the missing nonverbals typical of early online communication would necessarily reduce or disrupt the impression-forming accuracy.  Again, think of scrying. You create an invisible sensor a mere 10 feet from the target that you can see and hear through.  While that might sound great, consider what you miss with such a limited set of sensory inputs. Presumably the player who casts scrying doesn’t see much except the target. Details of the location are obscured, as are smells that may be in the air. Some of the cues that might help you form an accurate impression of the baddie’s plans have been filtered out, perhaps because the clues are more than 10 feet from the target or because they’re otherwise obscured.

    Online communication’s killer app rests on the power of verbal communication and time. Walther asserts that we can form full impressions of others based solely on the linguistic content of their message. There’s little doubt King George III missed the gist of what the colonists intended when he received the text of the Declaration of Independence. Further, while information exchange is slower online, there’s still plenty of time to form impressions. Finally, when confronted with a communicative context where nonverbals are limited, competent communicators simply replace them with words that strive to convey a similar meaning. Or, we use emojis. :)

    Research shows that we are fairly good at deciphering tone from verbal exchanges alone, even if communicating that warmth takes us a little longer. One of my favorite Critical Role characters is the tiefling cleric, Jester. I don’t think I’m spoiling much to highlight her use of Sending as a method of intimacy development. For those of you familiar with this blue-skinned delight, think about who she communicates with using this spell. The players at my table who employ this spell are much more likely to cast it to contact a PC or NPC they think they’ll likely encounter again. Communication scholars call that anticipated future interaction. It’s a motivator when it comes to relationship development. And while I’m on the subject of the present and future, Walther’s SIP highlights that even in a solely linguistic exchange, one cannot escape time. Chronemic cues is the term for how quickly or slowly we take to respond to a given message and the judgements and evaluations we make based on that elapsed time. Did the noble take a long time to reply to your message, or was there a nearly immediate response?  Such behaviors are data that we interpret and fold into the impressions we make of others.

    Out-of-game many of us have probably experienced a heightened sense of intimacy and closeness in an online (or primarily online) relationship.  Walther says this happens to us for four reasons. First, we selectively self-present online.  Communicating online gives us a kind of control over our self-presentation that interacting in person does not. Over time, we can edit the types of disclosures we make to maintain a stable cyber-image of ourselves. Second, missing out on at least some nonverbal cues, we tend to idealize the sender, making them seem better than they might appear if we were interacting in person. Third, the asynchronous nature of many forms of online communication means that we can take time to respond. But, again, time communicates, too. Wait too long and it’ll likely mean something to our interlocutor. Respond too fast, that creates an impression, too. Finally, because we have an over-attributed positive image of the person we’re communicating with, we may feed that image right back to the sender. In so doing, we create a loop in which our expectations of how they’ll respond evokes a response that confirms our expectations. This is otherwise known as a self-fulfilling prophecy.

    I am not one who longs to go back to 1990, when communication was oh so much simpler.  Neither am I one who dreams of returning to Advanced D&D, e3.5, or e4. The nature of online communication is strikingly rapid, making any writing about SIP (or any other online communication theory) a challenge to craft with an even higher DC to defend. Walther’s SIP was drawn up before smartphones and social media, begging the question of its longevity in a tectonically shifting communication landscape.  However, unlike SIP critics, such as Sherry Turkle, conversation, intimacy, and empathy are not going anywhere. Individuals born into an interconnected world of Snaps, Instas, and Tweets are no less capable of deep, close, and appropriate connection. Perhaps they are less practiced, but who wasn’t less practiced at adult relationships and conversations when they were a twenty-something?