In 2008 we created a 3D mind map. The idea was that it would let small communities share concepts in both a shared virtual space and asynchronously.

It had a few clever features: as the branches expanded, for example, parts of the tree would 'fall off' leaving only the most robust concepts behind. Nodes could also auto-generate web searches which appeared on the walls around you - a clever way to 'feed' the ideation process.

But the execution was tricky in part because it required a skill with your camera that most users didn't have and in part because it was counter-intuitive to create a 3D map when a simple text one would do.

Later, however, we extended the mind map to include 3D models. The nodes became 3D architectural sketches and you could easily follow and comment on design choices as they evolved along branches of the tree.

Today, that's what Omniverse is for and it's a multi-billion dollar platform. Back then, it was hacked together by three of us and was based on a concept called Wikitecture.

We ended up using it to help a financial company design their branches. You can still see the results today when you walk into the locations of a major US bank.

Ideas As Composable Assets

It's 14 years now since that first mind map. And on the surface it was "just" a fancy white board. (Although at the time it was pretty radical based on where the tools were at).

But it spoke to my deep fascination with concepts that included co-presence, collaboration on 3D assets, spatial awareness and its impact on creativity and the ability to smoothly transition between synchronous and asynchronous collaboration.

Even more profound was the idea of composability.

Today, composability is the lifeblood of the Internet. At the time there was no React or GraphQL, APIs hadn't been fully 'groked' as the way that the web would work, and we were certainly a long way from no-code development.

In laymans terms, today's Web is built up of a lot of modular little pieces. Many of those pieces play nicely together. It's how you can see a weather feed from another service on the news page you're reading, it's how it makes it possible to easily embed a Tweet in a blog post, and it's how Facebook is able to track you around sites that don't even seem connected.

The mind map was an extension of my deep fascination with "prims" and their composability. A script written by one person could be embedded in the model of a car created by another which could be "coloured" with textures created by a third.

Throw in a licensing scheme where ownership, rights and dollar values could be passed along with each composable atom and an entire world could be built from the ground up.

Interoperability and Ideas

Add in the fact that those prims were interoperable across multiple worlds (with some footnotes about how their commercial value was never interoperable) and we had the makings of a fully open Metaverse.

But even at the time 'interoperability' seemed to me like something bigger than being able to bring a pair of shoes from one world to another, or your avatar, or even, at a rough level, your identity (no need to sign-up for 100 different services, you could just travel where you wanted).

In fact, the challenge of interoperability wasn't primarily technical. As Raph Koster pointed out this week in his presentation at the Games Beat summit, the challenge of interoperability is mostly social and financial. We've had interoperability for a long, long time.

(As a side note: I deeply disagree with Raph's current stance on the Metaverse, but that's a topic for another post. He's a god to me...but lately I feel he might be too encumbered by his own experience).

Our mind map, in fact, had limitations beyond technical ones.

It demonstrated that "prims" could be used to encapsulate ideas. They could be powerful engines for collaboration, community, co-creation and storytelling.

And while the prims themselves (the nodes, the text, the 3D models) might be interoperable, there was no infrastructure to codify the ideas that they represented.

It would take more than a decade for the infrastructure to catch up to our wild dreams.

Understanding DAOs and Composability

I'm not an expert on decentralized autonomous organizations (DAOs).

Honestly, the name leaves me a bit cold. And 99% of DAOs aren't even autonomous.

But I arrived at DAOs in a similar way to NFTs.

They triggered pattern recognition. Some dormant part of my brain lit up because once I scraped away the hype and speculation, the misinformation and the false equivalencies, I sensed something akin to the composability of ideas and stories that I had been pursuing a decade ago.

What is a DAO? The Simple Version

But let's pause for a minute and get on the same page. Or...let's get on MY page. Because, not being an expert at this, I can only give you the lens I use to understand what a DAO is. (And please...I know this is a vast over-simplification but here it is).

First, the blockchain:

• The blockchain is NOT money. It's software. It's just technology. (Remember the turtles).
• As software, it's programmable. Think of how you log-in to a website: you put in your name and password and the system "allows" you in. The blockchain is similar: one person makes a request, and the system "allows" you to fill that request.
• One way of thinking about those requests is that there are tiny little contracts built into the software. "If USER A has permission B, let them do C"
• One nice thing about all of these little contracts? Everyone can see them. No one controls them. There's no central body that can muck things up.

A DAO is a bunch of mini contracts:

A DAO is a bunch of little contracts. In theory, it doesn't need any people. That's the autonomous part. In practice, however, people "join" the DAO because they like the look of those little contracts.

Those contracts are bits of code. Those contracts are composable. And some of those contracts can include provisions that require the actions of participants of the DAO.

Think again about the 3D mind map above. It was a very rudimentary DAO:

• It was just code. It didn't have any magic of its own. It couldn't design a new bank branch. The code was as good as the people using it.
• It had permissions. Only "members" could add nodes the mind map.
• It had decision points. These were programmatic but based on user input. In other words, if enough people voted to turn a bank branch into a tree house, other branches would automatically fall away.

What it didn't have was:

• Authority over the purse. That was up to the VP of bank branches to decide where to put his cash.
• The ability to easily combine with other systems. It was composable within its own system, but it didn't "talk" well with others.
• The ability to change its rules. Sure, we could have programmed this in. But there was no system of 'governance' over the code itself. In other words, we were the centralized repository of how the rules worked and we controlled who changed the code ('contracts').

A More Open Metaverse

So, I'm more deeply immersed in DAOs lately because of my work with the Open Meta DAO.

And I should say right off the top that I was attracted because of the "Open Meta" part...not the DAO part.

And this is a key point.

If you think a DAO is simply a structure, a new way to organize a 'corporation', then you're missing the broader point:

• A DAO is a set of composable contracts
• That can include interactions with people
• Who may or may not be aligned to a shared mission and vision

There are already DAOs for having dinner with friends. There was a DAO whose sole purpose was to buy a copy of the US Constitution.

In the first instance, you won't join the DAO unless you actually want to have dinner with those friends. And in the second, you won't join if you're not interested in the shared vision of owning a copy of the Constitution.

I was attracted to Open Meta because of the people and the purpose. The DAO is a container within which they can "compose" aspects of the open Metaverse. That ability to compose is backed by a series of contracts, and I tend to think the contracts are solidly constructed.

But in the end it's a bet on people and purpose.

Is it the smart bet? I'm not sure.

Maybe the corporate model is there for a reason.

But as I said yesterday, I've chosen my turtle, and I chose it in part because I think today's economic systems are broken, our planet is in pain, and it's time to try something new.

A Metaverse of DAOs

But let's look forward a bit.

Today, DAOs are too new. There can be incredible friction to joining a DAO. The contracts that govern DAOs are still being perfected. And yes, there are rug pulls and scams, poorly thought-out models and DAOs that are filled with speculators instead of builders.

There are also absolutists. I'm not one of them. It might make sense to turn a condo association into a DAO, or to turn my guild into a DAO to remove decision-making ambiguity.

But that doesn't mean everything should be "on-chain".

Similarly, the Metaverse does NOT rely solely on web3 to be actualized. It's emerging in all kinds of ways. And that's great. (Well, it's great so long as it doesn't trend towards dystopia, surveillance and addiction...which is partly why I'm so deeply passionate about an open Metaverse).

But with that set aside, DAOs are an important component of the Metaverse because they, along with NFTs, allow us to create new forms of social organization and culture:

• Imagine your avatar "containing" DAO contracts, so that as you move from world to world, your preferences for privacy are respected
• Imagine being part of mini DAOs devoted to a specific game or game guild, and that your interests (and inventory) was protected and not subject to the whims of some game studio somewhere
• Imagine that it isn't just your inventory that is transportable from one world to another but also your ideas, your backstory, your reputation. Imagine that your DAO memberships unlock collaboration opportunities when you visit different places

DAOs may become the equivalent of...dunno, Javascript or something. Little mini forms of organization, a cluster of beliefs, a shared sense of purpose - expressed in code in a way that makes it easier to organize, to build, to make a living, to expand our capacity to be human.

The technology won't do it for us. It's just technology.

But the tools that are emerging today feel to me like an important piece of infrastructure that was missing a decade ago.

Because today we can come together and create new mind maps. We can code some little piece of composable story and use it to tell a larger narrative. We can create a wiki or a piece of avatar fashion. We can join a book club or an environmental group.

And we can do so in a way where our efforts aren't just swallowed up by the centralized silos that want to monetize our data.

Instead, the work we do can be another atom that makes up a better, more chaotic, more creative and more sustaining world.

Bring on the DAOs. Let's see what they can do.

So...I'd really like to hear from you. If you get this by e-mail, please do reply. I love it when people hit reply.

You can also hit me up on Twitter. I like having chats in the public square when I can.

Please do join the Open Meta Discord (if Discord is your thing).

And if you want something REALLY fun, join me as I explore something that I've been spending a lot of time on. Like, decades. :)

I want a map of the Metaverse.

I want that moment in Red Dead Redemption when, headed towards Saint-Denis on horseback, you mistakenly take a left turn before Rhodes and find yourself in the deep swamp, discovering little shacks or facing the terrifying jaws of a crocodile.

You check the map again (the one at the top of this post), and realize you've ended up deep in the marsh, north of where you intended.

You adjust course for the bright lights of St Denis where you'll maybe have a shave and a haircut, a night playing poker.

I want to explore the Metaverse in a spaceship. Like Stellaris, I want to be able to zoom in and out - from the galaxy level and then down to individual solar systems, planets.

Or maybe I'd want to board a pirate ship - and in the distance a cluster of islands beckons, the shimmering glimpse of...are those apes? Are they really drinking martinis at the beach?

I want a map of the Metaverse because I like the idea of long, slow journeys. I like the idea of geography being revealed, of being immersed in a place, of decoding the pathways and history.

I like the idea of serendipity. Of discovery.

I like the idea that islands or planets would be grouped together - today, a cluster of Star Wars themed planets, tomorrow a group of corporate islands where I go to attend conferences on bitcoin or whatever.

How We Get There: Travel In the Metaverse

It sort of makes sense, doesn't it?

The Metaverse is being pitched as the next generation of the Internet. It will be spatial, persistent, three-dimensional and interoperable.

Which means that we’ll attend a concert in the newly interoperable Fortnite, jump over to hang out with the Bored Apes, regroup with our team in some new Facebook conference room. All without needing a separate download or a new account for each space that we enter.

In short it's, well, a universe - just a “meta” one.

Surely it has a geography?

Yes, each world within that universe may have its own map. Fornite OpenIsland will have a map that's different from Decentraland.

But wouldn’t you expect that these worlds are...connected? Wouldn't you expect continents, maybe? A Star Wars constellation of stars?

Probably. Otherwise isn't it just a more 3D version of the Web?

But the concept of a map of the Metaverse highlights some of the profound challenges in how our shared future universe is shaped.

Building a Map: A Thought Experiment

Here’s one version of what a map of the Metaverse could be. This isn’t a proposal, really…it’s a thought experiment.

1. A new “meta domain” layer is created which serves as a map of the Metaverse. In theory, the map itself could be three-dimensional, but for now let’s think of it as a giant blank grid. Each point on that grid holds metadata: the URL of the world it contains, maybe even 3D objects showing what they look like from a distance.
2. Worlds are registered on this map by their owners. They choose the placement and the size. The larger the space you decide to occupy (in order, in theory, to get more traffic - or as a way to contain multiple entry points), the more expensive it is. So, registering a single square might cost you $10. But each adjacent square costs a 4-fold amount. Two squares = $10 + $40. Four squares = $10 + $40 + $160 + $640 etc
3. You can MOVE your squares for a fee. The fee increases based on the frequency with which you move it. This will encourage ‘worlds’ to move into clusters, while discouraging over-frequent ‘parking’.
4. The map is based on blockchain so that all of the placements and transactions are open and transparent.
5. The base map has an API. Anyone can build on top of the base map. So, if someone wants to create a space-themed version of traveling across the map they can. Each map builder might find new ways to monetize their map: one might add an entertainment layer on top and charge worlds for adding icons or whatever.
6. How each map maker represents travel between the worlds is up to them.
7. The map starts out relatively small. It grows (maybe additional 'rings' are added to the core map, extending its size) based on density.

Finally, the fees would be collected by a non-profit DAO. These fees would fund the base infrastructure of the map of the Metaverse, and in addition would go towards:

1. Open Metaverse standards and best practices. The Open Metaverse Initiative, for example, might be one of the bodies that receives funding from the DAO
2. Metaverse safety and privacy research.
3. Policy and legal advocacy. Initiatives that focus on lobbying governments.

[As a side note, Facebook is spending considerable effort and money on lobbying government on Metaverse standards. Do we really want Facebook as the organization driving future standards?]

For the user, there is now a way to visualize the Metaverse. "Worlds" which add themselves to the map are making a statement: "we want to be part of this larger, interoperable universe...your avatar, your inventory and your wallet are welcome here".

As a user, you can travel through the Metaverse using the interfaces by the companies who build on top of the base map: one of them is a space-theme, one of them is corporate, and maybe they charge you for premium skins or for premium data layers.

Over time, the map might grow to be so large that specialized continents or map layers help us to navigate through it based on interests.

A sense of history will emerge: those few core worlds at the center and then spiralling galaxies spinning off. Entire continents for socializing, entire solar systems devoted to Bored Apes.

Like the Wayback Machine, the map of the Metaverse is stored, its evolution instantly viewable because data is on the blockchain.

A Slower, Less Siloed Metaverse

As I say, this isn’t meant to be a proposal. It’s a thought experiment which lets us explore whether there are different ways to envision how users will travel through the Metaverse.

I was trying to think through a few things:

• How do we let the community self-organize?
• Can we encourage the kind of serendipity that used to be way more common on the Web? Can we find ways to discover new digital content that doesn’t rely solely on whatever we see on social media?
• Can a map help us to slow down? What’s the future equivalent of doom-scrolling in the Metaverse? If there is more of a sense of travel…of journeys…can we help to create more human interactions and serendipity?
• Can a map allow for cultures to emerge and flourish? Can we create little corners of the Metaverse for different forms of self-expression?
• Can we find new ways to monetize ‘traffic’? If all we end up with are links and teleport hubs….isn’t that the same model that led to massive data silos like Google Search and social media as a main driver of traffic?
• How will governance happen in the Metaverse? In addition to our avatars carrying around 'permissions', how will things like violence or kid-friendly spaces self-organize? Can this happen in a way that avoids huge data silos?
  

The Challenges of a Map

But even this thought experiment quickly bumps up against bigger questions.

A ‘Map of the Metaverse’ circles us back to questions about how it might best be constructed, what its boundaries are, and how it will be governed:

We want interoperability - but does this apply to everything? A lot of effort, for example, is being invested in 'universal' avatars. Whether you're grabbing an avatar from Ready Player Me or maybe one of the super secret CloneX NFT Avatars from RTFTK you're going to want to..well, to be YOU, right? But what happens when you drop into a Star Wars world? Will it require a dress code? Or what about your inventory? Will you be allowed to bring a gun to a knife fight?

Thinking about a map of the Metaverse is also a way of thinking about how we'll transition between spaces. I might be travelling the Metaverse in a spaceship but, like a crew member in Star Trek, I might need to assume the local culture and costume in order to 'do no harm'.

What effect do links and teleportation hubs have on the aggregation of audiences? Most of the current work on the Metaverse assumes some sort of 3D-style URL. It makes sense: a URL is really just a way to request content from some distant server. And so a Metaverse-URL is a way for a user's machine to request a 'world' from a distant server. But doesn't this also risk all of the same traffic-shaping and user-tracking woes of the past? Don't we just end up resorting to search giants and social media portals as our entryways into the Metaverse? What would a more community-focused 'search' look like? Might it look a bit like a map?

Not all worlds will look alike. In fact, a world might be a little room where you show off 3D scans of your cat. To the degree that the little room can be linked to other little rooms - is it a world? Maps create a challenge that way: you can't necessarily map the actual size of a world onto a 'meta-map'. But then if all we have are a bunch of separate 3D spatial experiences - will there be a Metaverse at all? Or is it just a 3D Web? A 3D Web supported by a bunch of optional standards, maybe, but not really what people mean by the next version of the Internet (or, indeed, the Metaverse).

Will 3D experiences bridge the physical world? By most definitions, the Metaverse encompasses AR, VR, mobile, etc. And it probably should! Computers don't care whether a 'world' is real or not. They roughly interpret spatial relations the same way. And as a user, I might want to attend an Arianna Grande concert - and do so either by logging in to a fully immersive world, or by having her pop up in my living room. For the developer, a single source of truth can be delivered to multiple devices and interfaces.

I mentioned previously that I think of Sketchfab as a headless CMS for the Metaverse. By which I meant that Metaverse content will often be separate from the delivery interfaces. If the Metaverse doesn't priviledge a particular interface, then AR devices earn the right to be included. But how would a map of the Metaverse apply when it's distributed into reality itself?

Do You Want to Browse...Or Travel?

My little mental exercise on maps opened up all kinds of questions: about standards, governance, user experiences, and whether we're setting out to truly create spatially connected worlds, or we're creating a bunch of worlds that are only loosely connected.

But it also had me realizing that there is a range of possible futures. We don't necessarily need to choose: we can both browse, teleporting into little 3D spaces from Instagram, say, and also travel - setting sail in my imagined ship and discovering new worlds, delighting in the serendipity of a new universe.

Do you want to browse...or travel? And if both, what are the circumstances that would have you choose?

And most of all: do you want the Metaverse to evolve as a grassroots, community-led, cultural phenomenon....or do you want it to end up on the same path that brought us to the Web as it is today, dominated by a few silos, governed by control and measurement of our clicks?

The way that we develop a map of the Metaverse might not prevent us from the more dystopian future that fiction warns us against - but at least thinking about it lets us ask how to arrive, like my poor tired horse, in the well-lit streets of St Denis, ready for a bath, a shave, and a rest from the weary trail.

We're in this together. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Email me at doug@bureauofbrightideas.com or message me on Twitter.

Let's start a conversation.