Stone Soup in Social VR
The controversy of using AI for content creation
You’ve probably heard the story of Stone Soup. A group of weary travelers arrives in a village, hoping to share a meal. But the villagers, protective of their own food supplies, refuse to contribute. So, the travelers begin boiling a pot of water with just a simple stone, claiming they’re making “stone soup.” Curious, the villagers gather around, and as the travelers praise how much better the soup would taste with just a few carrots, a villager reluctantly adds some. Then another shares potatoes. Someone else throws in seasoning. Before long, the entire village is enjoying a delicious, hearty soup made possible by everyone’s small but meaningful contributions.
Now, imagine a modern twist on this tale set in the world of social VR.1 A group of community leaders, experts at organizing events and creating inclusive spaces, extends an invitation to a group of talented world builders—creators who craft stunning virtual environments. The community leaders propose a collaborative “worldhop,” where everyone tours different virtual worlds together, exchanging expertise and finding ways to highlight the creators’ work to broader communities. It’s a chance to combine skills, much like the villagers adding to the stone soup, and make something extraordinary together.
But the world builders, driven by their passion for artistic integrity, turned down the offer. Why? They suspected that some of the community leaders’ resources involved AI-generated art, and to them, that felt like an affront to the authenticity of their craft. Rather than joining forces and sharing their content creation expertise to support the event, they chose to walk away, focused solely on maintaining their artistic standards.
What these world builders may not have realized is the heavy impact of community debt, which refers to the accumulated burden that community leaders bear as they invest invisible labor—like organizing events, moderating spaces, and fostering engagement—to keep virtual cultures vibrant and sustainable. These community leaders are often overextended, burned out, and exhausted from performing the soft skills that make social VR communities thrive. They are the weary travelers in the story above, looking for a place where they are validated and uplifted, not allowed, tolerated, and ghosted. By turning down the collaboration, the world builders missed an an opportunity to alleviate some of this debt and support the very people who work tirelessly to keep these virtual ecosystems healthy.
The oversight may be that while the world builders create incredible spaces, they often do so purely for the joy of creation, without considering the broader responsibility of contributing to community well-being. Applications do not give meaningful feedback to creators on what kinds of people are visiting their worlds, where the hotspots are in those spaces for trolling and blocking, and do not incentivize spaces that facilitate healthy and inclusive community building. This silos world creators into an egoic loop of creating their fantasies and visions, but rarely encounter the consumers who are harmed or healed by their digital environments.
Meanwhile, social VR community leaders, despite being burned out, continue to invest their energy into making these worlds more than just beautiful environments—they strive to make them places where people connect, grow, and feel a sense of belonging. For example, many less gifted world-builders, like me, make an effort to become friends with world builders, and then give tours to their worlds, amplifying the creators’ stories, intention, and all the heart poured into those spaces. Community leaders know that world builders are part of the community and value deeply the magic of the digital environments. How often do world builders recognize the vital and often overlooked role that community leaders play in making social VR a healthy place to find community? What could be the consequences if AI now is the next reason to make the chasm between activists and artists wider instead of being a communication bridge of vision for the art that will eventually be created (who both sides learn to work together).
What both groups have in common is that they are community builders. The world builders shape our virtual environments, while community leaders ensure these spaces are welcoming and inclusive. Together, they are creating the social tapestry we experience today. But how do we feel about where things are heading? What might happen if we stopped waiting for the platforms and applications to fix everything for us and instead chose to organize and support each other on purpose, with intention and mutual respect?
Are we, as a social VR community, clinging so tightly to our ideas of authenticity that we’re failing to see the larger picture?
We live in a time when art, technology, and community are more fluidly interwoven than ever before. The archetypal broken “village” is hoarding their privilege to the point of driving us all to global extinction. Might it be worth considering how we can balance artistic purity with the need for collective support and sustainability.
Moving forward, what would it look like if world builders acknowledged the invisible labor of community leaders and found ways to contribute meaningfully? Could embracing the flexibility of tools like AI (or at least not judging those who do) actually help reduce community debt, allowing leaders to share their vision and need in a way that artists can pick up and improve? How can both groups work together to create a future where art and purpose align?
This is something I’ve encountered repeatedly in social VR with multiple communities.