when i play videogames with lots of 3d camera movement, whether they be FPS games or openworld adventure games or whatever, after like 20 minutes of playing, my body just purges all material out of both ends of my digestive tract, and i hav to fuckin RUN to the bathroom.
somtimes even just watching footage of super mario 64 on youtube for 20 minutes is enough to make me vomit or need to shit
Virtual reality will soon be able to go underwater
Assistant Professor of Psychology is developing an underwater VR headset as part of grant for NASA
“For students interested in learning about virtual reality research, MacNeilage teaches a course along with Eelke Folmer, computer science associate professor in the College of Engineering, on human machine interaction in virtual reality. Students learn about perception and the technology that makes it possible. Students are broken up into groups and have to design their own virtual reality application. The course PSY484/CS484 is offered every spring.”
So, full disclosure; I don't love the way this turned out. I came up with the idea when I first started writing and although it felt interesting in theory, the execution is actually . . . not. It suffers from being too technical and not emotional, and if you get through to the end and think I wimped out and rushed the ending, well, you'd be right. But it was half written and I couldn't just let it sit in my google doc like that, so I wrote the rest and here it is. There is a little follow up snippet that helps salvage things a bit here.
C/W for a little sexy and suggestive talk, but not enough to save the story. You've been warned.
Now, how's that for a sales pitch? (If you haven't noticed, I'm extremely proud of my insecurities and being self-deprecating is my defining characteristic.)
“Uh oh, should I have dressed up?”
Drew peered into the back seat of the fancy black SUV and looked at Gabriel, dressed in a well-cut suit that probably cost more than a month of Drew’s salary. Gabe shook his head.
“You’re perfect,” he said, gesturing at Drew’s scrubs. “The investors are going to eat up that nurse shit.” He scooted over so Drew could slide into the car beside him and then leaned forward and handed him one of the glossy flyers from the back of the seat pocket.
Drew flipped through the investor prospectus. “So you’re bringing me along to play video games?” he asked, looking at photos of people wearing high-tech VR headsets or sitting in darkened conference rooms watching enormous screens that wrapped around all the walls and even seemed to float in thin air. Gabe laughed.
“Not quite. Tempest Industries’ technology has a lot of practical applications, including in the healthcare fields. And it incorporates a number of cutting-edge AI components as well.” He gestured at the flier, which was adorned with the logos of both Tempest and Gabe’s employer. “Sterling Graham organized each round of VC funding and our IB branch took the company public” he said. “Your hospital is helping beta test some of their products so they can make adjustments before taking them to market.”
Drew leaned forward. “I thought you wanted me because I’m prone to motion sickness,” he said with a grin.
Gabe gave him a somewhat sheepish shrug. “Well, yeah, that’s part of it too. They want to know which of their various products and technologies are most likely to make people sick, and how avoidable it is. No hospital system’s going to buy a million-dollar surgical simulation if the doctors and nurses can’t work with it without puking.”
“So if I throw up, they aren’t going to invest?” Drew gave a joking grimace. “That feels like a lot of pressure.”
“Well . . . it’s more that they want to know what percentage of users actually get sick, how badly, and at what stage of the program,” said Gabe. “Believe it or not, they’ve run data analytics on the ‘acceptable percentage’ of users who cannot complete each simulation.” He rolled his eyes. “Logan has been running what she calls the ‘coefficient of vomit’ statistics for weeks.” He gave Drew an apologetic look. “Sorry.”
Drew laughed. “They’re paying me $500 for today, right? Do I get more if I don’t get sick?”
Gabe rolled his eyes. “It’s the same amount for everyone, puke or not. And for the record, I hope you don’t get nauseous.”
“That’s doubtful,” said Drew with a laugh. “But I’ve vomited for a lot less than $500.” He patted his coat pocket. “Plus I have zofran for the ride home if I need them, since they told us not to take any anti-nausea meds ahead of time.”
“I really appreciate this,” said Gabe sincerely. “Dinner afterward’s on me.”
“Assuming I want it,” said Drew.
*******
The VR testing was at the headquarters of Tempest Industries, which were as fancy as Drew would have expected. After Gabe left him to “go chat up the investors,” he and four other volunteers were given badges with their name and a bar-code on them and ushered into a large, windowless room filled with comfy chairs, VR equipment, high-tech monitors, and other techy-looking devices Drew didn’t recognize. He and the other volunteers chatted while they waited for more instruction. It turned out Drew was the only one there today testing medical products; two of the others were in law enforcement, one was a structural engineer, and one was a pilot. They all joked with various degrees of nervousness and excitement about what was to come until a friendly looking woman in jeans welcomed them.
“We really, really appreciate your participating in our testing protocols,” she said. “As you know, virtual reality has a lot of practical applications beyond the fun of gaming. And combined with Tempest’s cutting-edge AI technology, the possibilities are nearly endless for growth and expansion into a number of industries focused on bettering the lives of people throughout the world.” The PR speech over, her face turned a little more serious.
“However, as you all know from the questionnaires and release forms you signed to participate today, you may experience some unpleasant side effects from your interaction with some of our prototypes.” She gestured to a group of individuals wearing scrubs standing nearby.
“Not that we anticipate anything serious, we have a full staff here to attend to any need you have, and we also have a fully trained and experienced nurse here volunteering too.” Her eyes found Drew and he grinned sheepishly at the others.
“Assuming I’m not the first one to puke,” he said. Everyone laughed, and some of the tension left the room.
“As you know, you can stop your participation any time you wish, although the full stipend is only payable to those who at least attempt all three of the prototypes that have been individually selected for you to try. Your badge is keyed to each program and will direct you from activity to activity and give you instructions before you begin.” She pointed to doors on either side of the room. “There are banks of private bathrooms outside the auditorium for your use at any time, as well as emesis basins which may be used during a simulation if you so choose to try to continue.” She gave an apologetic smile. “Tempest’s ultimate goal is to make its products as accessible to as many people as possible, so the reliability of the data we collect today is vitally important. Please don’t feel self-conscious about being honest about how you’re feeling; it will help us adjust the visual experience and direct which products continue in development to market.”
“The engineers and developers were the alpha testers, and nearly all of us got sick at least once.” A man in a faded plaid shirt and horn-rimmed glasses grinned at them. “Now one or another of us may be popping into your simulations to ask questions while they’re running, and don’t be shy about telling us exactly how you feel, in the most colorful language possible.”
Everyone laughed again, and Drew sent a quick text to Jeremiah: We’re supposed to describe our nausea as it’s happening; know anyone who might enjoy that? (sexy eyes emoji)
Jeremiah immediately texted back: I’d tell you exactly what that thought is doing to me but I’m out to lunch with Rory right now and I don’t think he’d appreciate me getting all flustered. Please try to remember, word for word, what you say.
Drew chuckled to himself and felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with his nerves about getting sick. He was about to text back something even more suggestive when the woman in jeans cleared her throat.
“Our medical staff will be handing out your ‘goody bags’ now; please do not use any of the items inside unless and until you need them after the simulation starts. Turn off your cell phones and proceed to your first activity.”
Drew’s ‘goody bag’ contained a bottle of water and another of gatorade, a packet of saltines, a hospital-grade emesis basin, anti-nausea was wristbands, chewable dramamine, and an instant cold-pack. He hummed in appreciation.
“Looks like a pretty good anti-nausea kit,” he said to a guy in scrubs standing by the side of Drew’s first simulation. “Wonder how many I’ll need.”
The man grinned. “Do you want to know how many people I’ve seen use all of them so far or should I keep that tidbit for the end?” He held out his hand. “I’m Tony. I’ll be keeping an eye on you while you go through the activities. Since you’re a nurse, I probably don’t need to give you instructions about how to use an emesis basin.” He rolled his eyes. “I had a couple of early participants just puke in the bag, right on top of everything. Now I make sure everyone has the basin in easy reach at all times.”
“At least they made it in the bag; I’ve had too many patients who just aimed for the floor or their bed,” Drew joked. He scanned his badge on the VR headset sitting in front of him and took a deep breath. “Here we go, I guess.”
The first simulation was completely fine - and totally enjoyable. Drew used his controller to operate a new type of medication sorting and distribution machine that was supposed to improve accuracy and reduce mistakes. It was fun and easy and he breezed through the tests, telling Tony and the Tempest executive who popped into the simulation how much fun he was having and getting a slap on the back from Tony in return.
The second activity was a 45 minute simulation to map a section of a brain in preparation for surgery to remove a tumor. Drew whistled in appreciation as the monitors in the headset clicked on to reveal the inside of a brain, with its vessels and neuro pathways, interrupted in places by malignant cells. A screen with a touch keyboard popped up and Drew began to navigate around the space, answering questions that popped up about the pathology of what he was seeing, asking him to measure or count cells, diagram certain structures, and follow different blood vessels and arteries through the tumor to determine the best method for resection.
It was fascinating work and kept him engrossed and focused, and by the time he was finished, he reported honestly that while he was feeling a little queasy, it had been manageable.
“Drink some Gatorade and then you can lie down for a few minutes before the next test if you want.” Tony was busy checking his pulse and blood pressure and peering in Drew’s eyes, making notes on a computer as he did so.
Drew took a few gulps of the drink and forced himself to burp. Across the room he could see two other volunteers fully immersed in their own simulations. A third volunteer, one of the engineers, he thought, was sitting on a sofa gagging into an emesis basin while one of the nurses patted his back. The fifth volunteer was nowhere to be seen.
“She puked and asked to leave,” Tony whispered, guessing where Drew’s thoughts had gone. He nodded his head at the gagging man. “He’s probably next.” He peered at Drew’s face. “You’re okay for the third? If you make it ten minutes you’ll get the full $500.
Drew burped again and straightened up. “For sure,” he said with a grin. “I can do anything for $500.”
Tony raised his eyebrows. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The third activity simulated a med-evac helicopter with a patient who needed invasive treatment during the flight. The technology involved a VR headset that was synched to a platform that moved in tandem with the images Drew was seeing, so it felt like he was really flying, and on a windy day, no less. The simulated AI patient needed to have his vitals checked, blood drawn and IV started, and finally a cut sutured, and Drew began to feel the effects of the motion within minutes. Focusing on the tiny numbers on the blood pressure cuff and thermometer and feeling the helicopter move while he could see the simulated scenery flying by out of the corner of his eyes was more disorienting than he would have expected. He typed the test results into his computer and took a deep breath to try to clear some of the heaviness in his throat, determined not to let a little air sickness affect his ability to care for the patient.
The blood draw equipment didn’t involve real sharps, but the technology was so advanced that it felt like he was really trying to find a vein. He managed to get the needle inserted but when it came time to simulate connecting a tube and withdrawing blood, he found his vision swimming so much he couldn’t properly attach the container. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to clear his vision, but the “helicopter” dipped crazily and he couldn’t hold back a gag.
“Is it accurate to say you’re experiencing nausea?” The Tempest employee and Tony were back in the simulation with him. Drew nodded and forced open his eyes.
“Yeah,” he stuttered, gagging again. He fumbled for the goody bag, but it was hard to find without being able to see it.
“I’ve got it.” Tony put an emesis basin in his hand, “Do you need to vomit?”
“Not yet,” Drew answered thickly. He spit out saliva. “But I don’t want to spit on the floor.” He took a deep breath and forced up a burp. “That hit fast; trying to focus. . .” he trailed off into another burp.
“Did the nausea begin with the IV action or before?” The Tempest engineer peered at him through round glasses. Drew took a deep breath.
“Before, when I was taking the blood pressure. I started feeling motion sick almost immediately.” His stomach rolled. “But the blood draw is what really pushed me over the edge.” He spit again. “Can I have some water?”
“Do you want to continue? We can use this data and end the test if you’d prefer.” Tony handed him a water bottle and Drew took a small sip. He shook his head.
“I said I’d keep going until I puked,” he said with a queasy smile. “May as well get my money’s worth.”
The Tempest engineer laughed. “Why is it always the medical people who want to torture themselves? The pilot couldn’t make it through a single simulation even though she flies through real turbulence all the time.” He waved his hand. “Carry on then, IV and then suture the laceration, if you can manage it. I’ll be watching from the external feed.” He winked out of sight.
“And I’ll be staying here, just in case.” Tony patted Drew’s arm and Drew once again had the odd sensation of seeing the touch in one place and feeling it in another. He gulped.
“‘Kay,” he said. He gave a harsh cough to clear his throat and then quickly attached the blood draw tubing before the nausea could return full force, and then began hooking up the IV and hanging a bag of saline. A bell rang to signal he’d completed that task and the last activity locked into place - a long cut on the patient’s leg needed to be cleaned and then stitched up, and as soon as Drew got a good look at the task, he knew it was no use.
“I feel . . . really sick,” he groaned, and then leaned forward and retched. “Gonna . . . gonna . . .” He couldn’t even finish his sentence before he had to pull off headset and vomit into the basin. Dimly he was aware of Tony helping him off the simulation platform and patting his back as he led him over to one of the sofas to lie down.
“Wait,” Drew managed. “Not done.” He threw up again, mostly watery bile, and panted heavily, trying to get his stomach under control. Tony cracked open an aromatherapy stick and held it under his nose.
“Peppermint help?” he asked. “I also have rubbing alcohol.”
“I’m okay,” Drew gasped. He burped one more time and felt his nausea recede a little bit. He took a shaky breath. “That sucked.” He pulled his phone out of the goody bag and turned it back on. “Does anyone finish that activity?”
Tony looked around and then lowered his voice. “I’m not supposed to say, but I can tell you’ll keep it a secret. They’re having trouble with this one; almost no one makes it all the way through when they have the flight set for a windy day; they may have to scrap it.”
Drew nodded. “I’m not surprised; It felt worse than a real helicopter.” His phone vibrated.
J: how’s it going? Did you vomit yet?” Drew smiled.
“Am I allowed to use my phone now? It’s my boyfriend, wanting to know how the day went.”
“Oh.” Something flashed in Tony’s eyes. “Uhh, yeah, you’re free.” He stood up quickly. “I need to finish my report anyway. Sit there another couple of minutes and drink more Gatorade before you go.” The man took a couple of steps backwards before turning on his heel and rushing out of the room.
Drew watched for a moment, bemused, and then turned back to his phone.
I did! I puked, and I can’t wait to tell you all about it. (Green face emoji) And . . . I think I almost just got hit on?
J: (raised eyebrows emoji)
No worries; I was too busy puking my brains out to even remember what he looked like. There’s only one doctor in my life I want around when I feel sick.
Not doing 100%, mentally speaking. I was playing in a VR headset, and coming back out to reality was hard. I sat in the chair for five minutes trying to remember who I am and where I was
LG Display Co on Monday said it has developed a new breakthrough in Virtual Reality (VR) technology to prevent dizziness, headaches and other symptoms associated with motion sickness by reducing the delay between users’ movements and the images shown on the screen. Read more
Dynamically, yet subtly, changing a physically stationary person’s FOV in response to visually perceived motion as they virtually traverse a virtual environment can combat VR motion sickness.
“I've been working with helmet mounted displays in military flight simulation for several decades - I am an expert in the field.IMHO - these devices should be banned - but that may not be necessary because after the first wave of early adopters I think it’ll go the way of 3D televisions. But that’s just my opinion. Let me explain why.
Everyone thinks these things are new and revolutionary...but they really aren't. All that's happened is that they dropped in price from $80,000 to $500...and many corners have been cut along the way.
There are several claims that the nausea problem has either been fixed, or will soon be fixed, or that application design can be used to work-around the problem.
The claims that it’s been fixed are based on the theory that the nausea is caused by latency/lag in the system, or by low resolution displays or by inaccurate head motion tracking…all of which can (and are) being fixed by obvious improvements to the system. Sadly, the $80,000 googles we made for the US military had less latency, higher resolution displays, and more accurate head tracking than any of the current round of civilian VR goggles…and they definitely made people sick - so this seems unlikely.
The problem is that the people who make those claims are either ignorant (or are deliberately ignoring) the evidence collected over 20 years of flight simulation experience with VR goggles (only we called them “Helmet Mounted Displays” - HMD’s - and what we did was called “simulation” and not “virtual reality”).”
