digitaljaneaustenproject

[digitaljaneaustenproject]

Digital Jane Austen Project Progress Overview

Historically, the ability to communicate instantly and remotely with others was unimaginable; long-distance interactions were constrained by physical and temporal barriers, relying on letters, telegrams, or in-person meetings. Despite these limitations, individuals cultivated meaningful connections through the available means. In the contemporary digital age, virtual communication has become ubiquitous, offering immediate access to social interactions on an unprecedented scale. Yet, research suggests that the frequency and accessibility of these digital exchanges do not inherently translate to deeper or more meaningful human connections. This paper explores the intersection of literary metaphors and digital communication, examining how virtual meetups can be designed to more closely emulate the richness of in-person interactions.

Despite being in full view of each other and able to hear one another via video, these digital assemblies often leave something to be desired, regardless of their formality. Users find it difficult to navigate proper etiquette within digital spaces, and many struggle to stay engaged during virtual meetings. This challenge stems, in part, from the poorly defined—or entirely absent—rules of conduct in the virtual world. The mere mention of 'Zoom' invokes dread in many, as virtual meetings have become a pervasive and often unsatisfying part of modern life. Whether for online conferences, work meetings, or digital gatherings with friends, virtual interactions are unlikely to fall into disuse in the near future. Recognizing this reality, we sought to determine how virtual meetings could be enhanced. To this end, we convened a series of workshops with experienced virtual meeting attendees to explore potential improvements to current digital models.

In three separate workshops, we posed the question, 'What metaphors can we draw on from works of fiction to inspire the design of hybrid meetings?' Each workshop was designed with a distinct level of formality—formal, semi-casual, and casual—and involved participants from diverse backgrounds: academics, writers, and board game players, respectively. These discussions revealed valuable insights into how literary metaphors and structured social frameworks could inform the design of more engaging and meaningful virtual interactions.

Social Norms 

Conversational flow requires a shared understanding of what is acceptable behavior. Within an in-person interaction, most participants understand what is appropriate in terms of personal space, atmospheric choices, posture, when to speak, how to dress, and general self-conduct. These non-verbal cues which make social cohesion possible are collectively known as social norms. While crucial in connecting with one another, these norms prove to be cumbersome when translated digitally. 

The adaptation of real-life experiences into virtual experiences is a form of skeuomorphism– a process by which new technologies are made to ornamentally mimic archaic technology. While these adaptations are not functionally necessary, they help users transition to the new design by leveraging familiarity. One skeuomorph incorporated into Zoom meetings is the 'Raise Hand' feature, which allows participants to click a hand icon to signal their desire to speak. While this addresses some challenges of turn-taking in virtual settings, it falls short as a complete solution, particularly in hybrid meetings. In such scenarios, where some attendees are physically present while others join remotely, a virtual hand-raise can easily be overlooked amid the activity of in-person participants. This issue was evident among board game players participating in a hybrid Dungeons and Dragons campaign: virtual attendees struggled to identify appropriate moments to speak, as the dynamics of the in-person group often overshadowed their digital presence. Other fundamental aspects of conversation, such as speaking volume, also posed challenges. Virtual attendees struggled to gauge whether their voice was too loud or too soft, often relying on frequent feedback from in-person participants to adjust their levels. To address this, the board game players proposed providing virtual attendees with a visual cue, such as an on-screen volume mixer, to help them monitor and adjust their audio levels relative to those in the physical space. This skeuomorphic suggestion highlights the broader need for intuitive, user-friendly tools that bridge the gap between virtual and in-person interactions, paving the way for more seamless hybrid communication.

During a workshop with writers, participants highlighted the challenges posed by the lack of clear etiquette in virtual meetings, which often leads to awkward interactions and frequent social missteps. Without established written or unwritten rules, video conferences become prone to a range of errors—from innocuous mistakes like poorly timed contributions to more egregious breaches, such as joining a call from inappropriate locations, i.e. the bathroom. This absence of shared norms underscores the need for more structured guidelines to enhance the quality and professionalism of virtual interactions. The academics noted that organic interactions that happen in person, such as whispering to a neighbor during a lecture, are not easily replicated in virtual meetings. To address this, they suggested creating a user-friendly 'whisper network' feature for virtual platforms like Zoom.

One proposed solution is a dedicated 'Whisper Mode' button, positioned next to the chat icon, which would allow users to privately message one or more participants without the risk of accidentally sending a message to the entire group. To enhance usability, visual indicators—such as a small speech bubble icon—could appear next to the names of participants engaged in private chats, signaling their activity without revealing the content. For more extended side conversations, temporary 'whisper channels' could be created, functioning as mini breakout rooms for 2–3 people. These channels would be accessible via a simple dropdown menu and could be closed just as easily, ensuring they don’t disrupt the main meeting flow. Additionally, whisper notifications could be designed to minimize intrusion, using subtle cues like a soft chime or a brief icon highlight to alert recipients without distracting the group. Finally, a 'Whisper History' tab could be introduced to keep private messages organized and accessible during or after the meeting, preventing side conversations from getting lost or cluttering the main chat. By incorporating these features, virtual meetings could better emulate the organic, low-key nature of in-person whisper networks, fostering a more natural and engaging meeting environment.

Additional facets explored among workshop attendees included the contrast between digital and in-person hosting, as well as the communication of expectations and itineraries. One academic drew inspiration from Jane Austen and the intricate social etiquette of Regency-era England. While modern perspectives may view these conventions as rigid, they provided a structured framework for socialization during that time. Events were meticulously curated, with itineraries and logistics explicitly conveyed through written correspondence and implicitly communicated through visual cues during gatherings. This dual-layered approach ensured that expectations were clear and manageable for guests, fostering a sense of predictability and comfort.

Two notable parallels between Regency-era gatherings and virtual meetings are the presence of hosts and the reliance on itineraries. In Regency-era gatherings, hosts played a distinguished and multifaceted role. Their duties included greeting guests upon arrival, facilitating introductions, acting as social mediators between unfamiliar parties, and guiding attendees through the evening’s events. In contrast, the role of a host in virtual meetings often centers on technical facilitation—muting and unmuting participants, managing breakout rooms, and troubleshooting connectivity issues. The academic argued that shifting the focus of the virtual host’s role toward fostering human connections could significantly enhance the quality of these meetings. For instance, rather than allowing attendees to join a meeting en masse, the host could greet each participant individually in a virtual lobby before escorting them into the main meeting space. This approach would mirror the personal touch of a Regency-era host, creating a more welcoming and engaging atmosphere.

To further bridge the gap between virtual and in-person interactions, the group experimented with hybrid meeting formats. One method involved using separate tablets for each virtual conversation, simulating the experience of moving between rooms during an in-person event. This setup allowed virtual attendees to transition seamlessly between discussions, much like their in-person counterparts, fostering a sense of fluidity and continuity. By integrating these thoughtful adaptations, the group demonstrated how digital meetups could more closely emulate the richness and intentionality of face-to-face gatherings. Incidentally, a participant from the board game group discussed a successful digital conference on the platform Gather, attributing the success to their efforts to increase human-to-human interaction. In this digital conference, student volunteers were assigned the task of helping attendees one-on-one during an orientation meeting. Rather than simply setting up a video or reading instructions for all attendees to view, each attendee was personally aided by a student. The direct interaction involved welcoming attendees, having a short conversation, and aiding with any questions the attendees had. As a result, the conference had a high satisfaction rating from attendees. This example highlights the importance of prioritizing human connection in digital spaces. By replacing impersonal, one-size-fits-all instructions with personalized, one-on-one assistance, the conference fostered a sense of engagement and belonging among attendees. The high satisfaction rating underscores how small, intentional efforts to mimic the warmth and attentiveness of in-person interactions can significantly improve the virtual experience. This approach serves as a valuable model for designing future digital events, demonstrating that even in a virtual environment, meaningful human interaction remains the cornerstone of a successful and satisfying gathering.

Writers reported that virtual meetings often generated a feeling that their privacy was being invaded– the demand to be on camera despite what may be happening in the background of their environment, disrupting the already precarious work-life balance. A common violation of boundaries that arose in the era of Zoom is that of the meeting that runs overtime– this is not entirely unheard of for in person meetings, but it appears to be much more common and egregious in a Zoom meeting. The same academic who was inspired by the works of Jane Austen discussed the use of candles during Regency-era parties. Beyond providing light and ambiance, candles served as subtle indicators of the event’s duration and scale. Smaller candles hinted at shorter gatherings, featuring light refreshments and a few hours of socializing, while larger, thicker candles signaled more elaborate affairs—complete with full meals, multiple activities, and extended opportunities for conversation and dancing. Drawing from this concept, a modern solution could involve a visual cue, such as a virtual 'candle' that burns down as the meeting progresses, with the screen gradually dimming as time runs out, gently signaling the end of the session and helping to enforce time boundaries.

While the noble efforts to adapt the digital world to emulate our natural one have yielded creative solutions—such as virtual 'candles' to signal meeting durations, personalized one-on-one orientations to foster connection, and whisper networks to replicate organic side conversations—they ultimately fall short of fully capturing the richness of in-person interactions. The absence of direct digital translations for many social norms reveals a critical gap: the need to construct new, purpose-built norms for virtual spaces. This requires not only technological innovation but also a cultural shift in how we approach digital communication. By blending skeuomorphic designs that leverage familiarity with entirely new frameworks tailored to the virtual environment, we can create hybrid experiences that honor the nuances of human interaction. The journey toward seamless digital communication is ongoing, but with thoughtful adaptation and a focus on human-centered design, we can bridge the divide between the virtual and the real, fostering connections that are both meaningful and sustainable.

Uncanniness and Shared Experiences

There are aspects to in-person meetings that are often taken for granted– namely, the ambience of the physical setting. Atmosphere plays a crucial role in physical gatherings, providing a shared experience for everyone in attendance. Shared experiences refer to when two or more people hear, see, smell, or do the same thing, so the mere act of sharing an environment with someone provides greater connection than simply conversing with them. This shared context extends beyond sensory elements, shaping our behavior and expectations within a gathering. Our physical environments provide context for how we are to conduct ourselves and what we can expect to happen within a gathering. Within a given culture, there is typically a shared understanding of what various gatherings entail—whether a work meeting, a court hearing, a sleepover, a coffee date, or a spin class. Each of these events is defined by its unique physical setting, expectations, and purpose, yet most individuals within the culture will have a similar mental image of what these features look like. These codified contexts, however, are disrupted when removed from their physical spaces, fundamentally altering how we interact with and experience them. To illustrate this shift, consider the following: which version of board game night holds more appeal?

A cozy winter night playing a beloved board game around a friend’s kitchen table while the smell of freshly baked cookies wafts through the air; their friendly, goofy golden retriever occasionally drops by for pets and the chance to scour the floor for stray crumbs.

A winter night playing a beloved board game through a Zoom meeting with friends, while sitting in your own home physically alone. There may be snacks and pleasing aromas, but you have no one, not even a furry, four-legged companion, with whom you can share. 

The richness and depth provided by these experiences are starkly contrasted– the majority of people would elect for scenario 1, because it offers a greater feeling of connection and context. Context plays a critical role in shaping how we behave and interact, providing cues that allow us to automatically adjust our actions and expectations. For instance, the physical setting of a friend’s kitchen table, complete with the warmth of shared snacks and the presence of a playful pet, creates a relaxed and communal atmosphere. This environment naturally encourages behaviors like laughter, casual conversation, and a sense of belonging. In contrast, the virtual setting of scenario 2 lacks these contextual cues, leaving participants to consciously navigate their behavior without the subconscious guidance that a shared physical space provides. Clothing is another key element of context that influences behavior. What we wear can subtly shape how we act and feel in a given situation. For example, wearing pajamas during a virtual board game night might signal relaxation, but it can also lead to a more passive or disengaged demeanor. On the other hand, wearing jeans or casual attire, as one might for an in-person gathering, can help recreate the mental and physical readiness associated with social interaction. These automated behaviors—like dressing appropriately or responding to the energy of a room—are deeply tied to context and are difficult to replicate in virtual settings.

In a workshop with board game players, a near-identical scenario was laid out to describe a hybrid Dungeons and Dragons campaign, wherein 50% of players were in person with each other and the other 50% attended separately via Zoom. Players who met virtually described the experience as lackluster and somewhat alienating—they could not enjoy the same atmosphere as the in-person attendees (namely, snacks), and they felt as though it was very easy for the in-person attendees to get caught up with each other. This made it difficult for virtual attendees to participate. The absence of shared context—both physical and social—left virtual players feeling disconnected and excluded, highlighting how deeply our interactions rely on the implicit cues and automated behaviors that physical environments provide.

During a workshop with academics, attendees heavily focused on the lack of shared stories, inside jokes, and shared experiences in virtual meetings. Attendees referenced 'The Lighting of the Beacons,' a pivotal moment in J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. In the novel, the Beacons of Gondor are lit to signal for aid, their flames visible across great distances due to their elevated positions. This dramatic act is rooted in historical practices—ceremonial signal fires were widely used in the United Kingdom to announce major events such as coronations, jubilees, and military victories. These fires served as powerful symbols of unity, creating a shared experience for all who witnessed them.

On the opposite end of the nonverbal communication spectrum, attendees also discussed a scene from Anne of Green Gables, in which Anne and her friend Diana communicate privately using candlelight Morse code through their facing bedroom windows. This intimate form of signaling stands in stark contrast to the communal beacons, highlighting the importance of both large-scale and personal connections.

In virtual meetings, however, there is no equivalent method for signaling to a single person within a group. While direct messaging or side channels like Slack can serve as digital 'notes,' they lack the subtlety and charm of Anne’s candlelight communication. To address this, a feature inspired by Facebook’s 'poke' or 'nudge' could be adapted for platforms like Zoom. Imagine a virtual 'candle' icon that users could 'light' to send a discreet, nonverbal signal to a specific participant—a gentle way to say, 'I’m thinking of you,' 'Let’s talk later,' or 'Pay attention to this.' This feature could emulate the intimacy of Anne’s candlelight Morse code, allowing users to create small, meaningful connections even in a crowded virtual space. By blending the communal symbolism of the Beacons of Gondor with the personal touch of Anne’s candle, such a tool could help bridge the gap between shared experiences and individual connections in digital environments

Online meeting platforms have introduced a variety of skeuomorphs to enhance user experience—avatars, virtual background functions, microphone on/off buttons, and hand-raise features, to name a few. While these elements aim to replicate the familiarity of in-person interactions, they often fall short of creating a seamless experience. Instead, they can inadvertently highlight the artificial nature of digital meetings, creating an uncanny effect that reminds users of the limitations of virtual communication. This dissonance underscores a critical challenge: while skeuomorphic designs help bridge the gap between physical and digital spaces, they cannot fully replicate the richness of face-to-face interaction. As we continue to navigate the evolving landscape of virtual meetings, the focus must shift from merely mimicking the physical world to reimagining digital spaces in ways that leverage their unique strengths. By prioritizing human-centered design and fostering meaningful connections, we can move beyond the uncanny and create virtual environments that feel not just functional, but genuinely engaging and inclusive.

Sterility and Spontaneity

In addition to detracting from shared experiences, virtual platforms often create an environment devoid of engagement. With an extremely static layout that remains unchanged regardless of meeting content, workshop attendees frequently reported experiencing “Zoom fatigue” and a general sense of boredom. The lack of spontaneity and visual variety in virtual meetings contributes to this fatigue, as every session feels formulaic and predictable. Writers, for instance, discussed the phenomenon of “Zoom bombing”—the act of an uninvited guest gaining access to a virtual meeting—as one of the few unexpected moments that break the monotony. Similarly, board game players mentioned the delight of an attendee’s pet cat sauntering across the screen unexpectedly, a rare moment of levity in an otherwise sterile environment. Academics noted that Zoom meetings lack the element of surprise and curation, as every meeting shares the same aesthetic, regardless of its purpose or content.

This sterility stems from a paradoxical combination of being both overly structured and lacking meaningful structure. On one hand, the rigid format of virtual meetings—with their fixed grid layouts and repetitive interfaces—leaves little room for creativity or personalization. On the other hand, the absence of subtle cues that guide behavior, such as visual indicators that a meeting is coming to a close, can make virtual interactions feel endless and disorienting. Drawing inspiration from Jane Austen’s depiction of Regency-era gatherings, where candles signaled the duration and tone of an event, modern platforms could benefit from incorporating similar visual cues. For example, Google Meet’s feature of displaying a “5 minutes remaining” notification is a step in the right direction, but more could be done to create a sense of progression and closure. Curated experiences, such as those found in The Hobbit or on platforms like Discord, offer a potential solution. In The Hobbit, the journey is marked by distinct settings and events that keep the narrative engaging, while Discord allows users to organize conversations into themed channels, creating a sense of variety and purpose. Similarly, the success of the “Gather” platform, which incorporates human connection through student volunteers assisting attendees one-on-one, demonstrates the value of adding a personal touch to digital interactions. These examples highlight the importance of designing virtual spaces that feel dynamic and intentional, rather than monotonous and impersonal. The boredom and lack of engagement inherent in many virtual meetings contribute significantly to Zoom fatigue. Without the spontaneity that enriches in-person interactions—whether it’s a cat wandering into frame, an uninvited guest adding chaos, or a curated moment of surprise—virtual meetings can feel draining and uninspired. Platforms like BeReal, which encourage spontaneous, unfiltered sharing, offer a glimpse into how digital interactions could be reimagined to feel more authentic and engaging. By incorporating elements of surprise, variety, and human connection, virtual meetings could move beyond their current limitations and foster a more vibrant and enjoyable experience for all participants.

Looking Ahead

The shift to virtual communication has undeniably expanded our ability to connect across distances, but it has also exposed significant gaps in replicating the richness of in-person interactions. From the sterility of static layouts to the absence of shared experiences and spontaneous moments, virtual platforms often struggle to foster the depth and engagement that come naturally in physical settings. Yet, by drawing inspiration from literary metaphors, historical practices, and innovative design principles, we can reimagine digital spaces to better emulate the warmth and intentionality of face-to-face gatherings. Features like virtual 'candles' to signal meeting durations, whisper networks for private conversations, and curated experiences that prioritize human connection offer promising steps toward bridging this divide. However, the journey does not end with skeuomorphic adaptations; it requires a cultural shift toward embracing the unique possibilities of virtual environments while honoring the social norms and contextual cues that define human interaction. As we continue to refine these digital spaces, the goal must be to create not just functional tools, but meaningful experiences that foster genuine connection, engagement, and belonging. In doing so, we can transform virtual meetings from a source of fatigue into a platform for creativity, collaboration, and community.

[digitaljaneaustenproject]

I want to try and explain this niche media theory to everyone

Media theory is one of those things that can really help explain why designs do the things the do. And why we do what we do with designs. But it's often written in ways that are really hard to get what the author is trying to say without also being someone who studies media theory.

So I'm going to try and explain one of these theories clearly. Because it's one that I've found really helpful to get what we're doing with the Jane Austen project.

So these are McLuhan's Laws of the Media.

McLuhan saw everything invented and used by humans (tools, language, ideas, computers, all of it) as extensions of a human. From there he proposed these four laws (but really they're questions) to try and understand any human thing as it works as an extension of a human; something a human _does_ something with. Then, with those questions he realized that all of these human "artifacts" like tools and technology are being used by people as metaphors.

So his laws of the media help us consider what a metaphor could do in whatever setting. More "Questions about the Metaphors" than "Laws of the Media". And they are:

Question 1: What does it magnify?

What do we do more because of this metaphor?

What do we do more easily?

What do we notice around us more?

~~~

Question 2: What does it make obsolete?

What do we get to skip doing because of this metaphor?

What is it going to let us forget?

What is it going to make us forget?

~~~

Question 3: What does it bring back that something else had made obsolete?

What does the metaphor remind us of that we thought we had left behind?

What do we start doing again?

What do we get to see from a new perspective?

~~~

Question 4: What does it flip into when pushed to the extreme?

What might happen if this metaphor gets used everywhere?

What might happen if we get reliant on it?

What might happen if we forget where it came from?

~~~

That's not quite the whole thing. He connects his ideas to some Aristotle. But these questions are the most important part.

So what? Why am I trying to explain a 50 year old theory to everyone I meet? Because I can't stop talking about metaphors as paths to better digital designs and experiences. And these questions are where I start with every metaphor.

Everything humans make involves choices. A metaphor we design around is a choice that can have a lot of impact on what people do with that design. These questions make sure we think about those choices and those impacts first.

And hopefully the theory doesn't confuse us too much along the way.

[digitaljaneaustenproject]

I think we figured out how to host a Zoom meeting like Jane Austen would.

First thing: Who should talk to who?

As the two hosts, we greeted each person one at a time -- in-person or in the room -- and brought them to one or two people who had already arrived, introduced them, and then left them chatting to get back to greeting arriving people. This got small talk going and gave everyone something to do while others trickled in.

And we planned ahead to make this small talk as easy as possible. Between us two hosts, we knew everyone who was expected to be there. So we compared notes and planned some small groups that would give everyone something to connect about. We thought about the different reasons they wanted to do this workshop and different levels of design experience. We were mostly grad students and postdocs, so we put the one professor and one undergrad student together for small talk since professors are used to helping undergrads to open up and share ideas.

Once our party was starting to warm up, we got everyone together to talk about the point of the workshop, and let people choose which room they wanted to start in. We had guessed people would default to where we had started them, and that's exactly what happened. Then we got started actually designing.

Next: Keeping conversation going

Starting conversations was easy, we had asked everyone to think of some sources of fiction to use as starting points, and everyone was excited to share those and immediately started bouncing ideas around of what they had in common or what stood out as different.

We had some guiding questions for each room, but we didn't expect everyone to stick to exactly that. Especially since we borrowed these questions from some pretty confusing media theory. But still, after a bit of general talk about the different ideas, conversation was starting to peter out. As hosts, we used those questions to start conversation up again. From my room, it took about half an hour for them to really be talking with each other and without me.

At that point, I could backchannel with my co-host to check in on the other room. From my breakout room, I could hear through the in-person tablets that conversation was happening in the other room, but not what they were saying.

Even though we had told people they could wander between rooms as they wanted (and that we'd wander with them to get them settled in), no one did. So halfway through I just said I was going to check out the other room and did someone want to come with me? We got there and kicked out my co-host and one other person. So we got the moving between rooms we wanted and it worked, but only because I forced it.

Finally: Staying aware of the larger party

The last step was bringing everyone back together to see what they thought.

I mentioned before that I could hear a bit of background noise from the other breakout room because we had two tablets in the same physical room. And I liked this. As someone who wasn't physically in the shared room, I felt like I was part of a larger team collaborating together. But that wasn't everyone's experience. In the room people agreed that hearing the other tablet helped them feel connected, but the other remote folks were more mixed.

I think it came down to how we were listening. I had an external microphone and speaker combo, but people who were earbuds said it was distracting to have that background noise in their ears. So maybe next time we recommend speakers so it feels more being in one of a set of rooms than in a phone call.

~~~

Hosting a zoom workshop like Jane Austen worked! People made connections and shared ideas. It felt much more like an in-person workshop than a remote one, even though I was at my dining room table. And yes, I've started doing this for "just for fun" zooms with friends too.

It does take more set-up, but not as much as planning to host a ball. And from our side of things it was worth it to get to talk about designing with the Hobbit as a metaphor. But more on that another time.

[digitaljaneaustenproject]

What Jane Austen Taught Me About Running Zoom Meetings

Many of our social interactions happen digital these days, even “face-to-face” ones like Zoom meetings. It’s still just not the same as in-person, whether for meetings, a book club, or just to hang out. There must be a better way to gather digitally. I think a big piece of why digital isn’t working is that we don’t have social norms there.

Social norms are what make a conversation flow smoothly. You see it in how close you stand or sit together, how you take turns, and in the type of space you choose. Basic videoconferencing has none of this: we can’t control distance, audio lags or mutes, and it’s almost always the same black screen of videos from job interviews to birthday parties.

Some tools try to mimic in-person social interactions and norms in digital meeting spaces, kind of like a video game. Each person has an avatar that moves around a digital space and hears nearby conversation. The word for directly recreating things or experiences into digital tools is skeuomorphism. It’s easy for people to learn because it’s just like the other familiar version. But it also can point out the ways that digital just can’t be the same as in-person. Making a videogame-like social event does bring some social norms into that digital conversation, but it also reminds us that we aren’t in person, we can’t shake hands, we look at the whole room like a map instead of from our eyes.

So digital doesn’t work and just mimicking in-person doesn’t make it all intuitively work. So I’m going to look for new social norms.

Actually, I’m going to look for really old ones.

~~~

Regency era England definitely had well-established social norms. Think Jane Austen’s books, like Pride and Prejudice, or Netflix’s Bridgerton. The middle and upper classes of that time easily knew what to expect from each other and what would be expected of them just from where they were and what was going on, thanks to social rules and etiquette. At least some of these social norms feel overly strict to a modern eye. And this is actually what I was looking for with digital social norms. Computer rules are also very, very strict (eventually it’s all 1s and 0s). They don’t give us wiggle room within the rules. In a lecture, you shouldn’t talk, but you can whisper to the friend next to you. But try whispering in a Zoom meeting while muted. So what can Jane Austen’s social norms give digital meeting spaces? I have 3 ideas to start.

~~~

1. Being a host is a social job, not tech support

The host of Regency ball had little in common with a Zoom host. On Zoom, hosting is muting and unmuting attendees, managing recording, and placing avatars in different rooms; tech support. Being a Regency host was social, they greeted each person on arrival, introduced them people they should know, and generally showed them what the ball had to offer. And this was before they entered the ball.

I think it would be nice to not just appear in a sea of black squares, not knowing who was there and not knowing if conversation had already started. Imagine a one-on-one greeting between you and an organizer who took you to a small group of peers and introduced you, or brought you to the full group after explaining that people are waiting for the actual book club to start but can join breakout rooms to chat in the meantime.

~~~

2. Dancing lets us get to know each other and the group

Don’t worry, I am not going to ask you to dance in Zoom. Like I said, I’m not here for skeuomorphism. But a major reason for dancing at balls (you know, besides it was fun) was a chance for two people to chat one-on-one and for the larger community to know who was chatting with who. Everyone saw who was dancing not just by looking at the dance floor, but also by looking at people’s dance cards (which they carried or hung on their wrist) and seeing whose name was written for each dance.

Hybrid teams struggle to get to know each other because they mostly communicate through text or in team meetings with little time for social chatting. Us remote workers miss having a space to just talk, not about work or anything in particular. We could make digital meeting spaces that use voice chat to let pairs of people quickly connect and talk, and use a digital dance card to let the group see who’s been chatting with who.

~~~

3. Candles set the stage and expectations

Little details at a Regency ball could give important cues to attendees. The length of the candles burning in the rooms would tell people how long the ball was expected to last and that told them what was available at the ball. Short candles? A few hours of dancing and some food. Long candles? Settle in for a long night and look for places to take a break with card games or other amusement.

Digital meetings spaces are entirely missing this. Zoom always looks the same! It doesn’t matter if I’m playing a game with my family or presenting a progress report. The skeuomorphism can help here to bring in the same cues we have in person; make the background a living room for game night or an office for the presentation. But sometimes that just reminds us that we’re not in a living room together and might make the video uncanny. I want digital meeting places to have décor cues that are all their own. Because digital meeting spaces are not just replacements for in person ones. They’re something new and I want us to really explore what we can do with them.