Chatroulette, as most people probably know by now, is a website that pairs random strangers for webcam-based conversations that include both video and text. At any point during the interaction, either participant can leave, springing off to a more promising one, by hitting a button that initiates another random connection.
The idea is brilliant, I think. The world, rendered condense and immediate, is just waiting for you, opening up the promise of all sorts of surreal, unexpected and possibly even tender, human exchanges.
These are the first fifteen encounters that I had on Chatroulette:
1. A guy jerking-off.
2. A shirtless man lying on his back, his head resting on a frilly pillow, his hands out of view.
3. A teenage boy running his hand through his hair.
4. 3 puppies running around on a living room floor while opera blared.
5. A couple of 13 year-old girls, looking excited on a Friday night, as if they were doing something taboo their parents knew nothing about.
6. A guy jerking-off
7. A guy with his shirt off, showcasing his six pack as he unzipped his jeans.
8. A girl in bra and panties, dancing about, teasing.
9. Two stoned teens in Rasta caps giggling.
10. A confused looking Asian man in a cubicle.
11. Two college-aged guys with sheets over their heads.
12. A man jerking-off.
13. An obese man with his shirt off lying on a sofa.
14. A guy in a black toque yawning.
15. A handmade sign that said Boobs 93 Dicks 6.
Attention spans being what they are, and this being a visual medium, people click off most connections almost immediately, hoping to find somebody more desirable and receptive waiting just around the corner. In short order, people find themselves in a fruitless loop of pursuit, chasing after some fantasy encounter that probably only exists in the adolescent core of our brains.
And so, most people you encounter have a disappointed, kind of bored look to their faces. You are not the person they were hoping to meet, and neither was the person who preceded you, and in all likelihood, the person who follows you will also fall short.
And so you stare at your monitor, waiting for 30 seconds to be connected to a person, and then when you are, that person will likely just click away, and so it goes. I was certain that the experience was going to be fascinating and addictive, but it turned out to be repetitive and numbing.
It was depressing rather than fun, like playing a slot machine.
Again and again, I saw listless, empty spaces on Chatroulette. Each person an unexpected portrait of alienation and want, who under the protective aegis of anonymity became either a voyeur or exhibitionist, somebody hoping to quickly capitalize on the sexual mobility the Internet offers, and little more.