That connection sometimes comes as a surprise to even the people telling those stories, according to fellow presenter Dylan Pearce. The Alberta filmmaker has worked with VR in various ways, and is now in the process of shooting a film using the technology.
He points to the example of Henry the hedgehog as a sign of just how differently audiences react to VR. Henry is the star of a computer-animated VR film being produced by Oculus Rift, the hardware company whose headset kicked off the latest round of virtual reality fever.
Henry is a little hedgehog who desperately wants to hug others, but is unable to on account of him basically being a small ball of spines â€” pretty standard kidâ€™s film stuff. But when the filmmakers showed it to test audiences, their reaction was surprising. Things that happened to Henry that would seem funny or silly on a movie screen became heartbreaking when it happened to a cartoon hedgehog that they (or at least, their subconscious) thought was real.
“People felt bad and empathy for the character, rather than laughing along with it,”Â he said.
Both Pearce and Tricart say itâ€™s that connection that makes VR such a potentially-powerful tool for storytelling. Documentary storytelling, especially.
Already, filmmakers have experimented with VR to tell the stories of people living in Syrian refugee camps, or showing the viewer the perspective of a child dealing with domestic violence at home. Not just seeing it, but living it.
But that potential is not without a lot of responsibility. Denise Quesnel has been interested in VR for decades. Now, as a research associate with Vancouverâ€™s Emily Carr University of Art + Design, she studies the way that virtual reality is changing. And how it is changing us.
‘You can’t really delete a VR experience’
Storytellers have a responsibility, she said, to their audiences to understand that many of the topics that filmmakers tackle â€” things like violence and fear â€” can have lasting, even traumatic effects on the people watching.
Itâ€™s not just a philosophical question â€” Joseph Delgado, a gamer who modded Grand Theft Auto to use a VR headset and motion controls, said he felt â€œguiltyâ€ and â€œhorribleâ€ about doing so. It was the same game, but the different mediums created a completely different experience.
“The impact of VR is quite serious, it can give you emotionally or socially critical experiences,â€ she said.
â€œYou can’t really delete a VR experience if it was something that resonated on any level.”
They also have to be mindful of the time it takes for the brain to slip out of â€œvirtual reality mode.â€ Tricart talks about a demonstration with a demo that allowed her to walk through walls â€” after taking off the headset, she immediately tried to do the same thing in reality.
Quesnel admits to trying to sit on VR chairs and couches that she intellectually knew were not there, but nonetheless was convinced that they could support her.
“Everyone [who uses VR] has got stories about these things that happen to them. And it doesn’t take long, sometimes minutes, before your brain thinks it is real,” she said.
The impact of VR is just one of the many questions facing those involved in the fledgling industry. Tricart, Quesnel and Pearce all readily admit to not having the answers â€” or even knowing whether the questions can be answered.
That can cause a bit of anxiety. But itâ€™s also one of the things that explains their passion for VR â€” a new medium, fundamentally different from the ones that came before it. And the freedom it provides to find brand new ways to tell stories.
“I think we have so many amazing things to do with VR to make this world a better place .. we can show different perspectives on things,” Tricart said near the end of our chat.
“It’s a powerful tool to make humanity better, if we use it well. That’s the optimistic side of me.”