Ever noticed how your carefully crafted online persona—that polished LinkedIn profile photo, your fierce gaming character, or your whimsical Animal Crossing villager—feels somehow more you than your actual reflection in the mirror? You’re not imagining things. The psychology of avatars, has emerged as a critical field within cyberpsychology, revealing that our digital representations aren’t just aesthetic choices—they’re psychological extensions of our identity. Recent research suggests that over 3 billion people worldwide regularly interact through digital avatars across gaming, social media, and virtual work environments. Right now, as we navigate an increasingly hybrid reality where our digital and physical lives intertwine, understanding the psychological implications of our avatar choices has never been more urgent. In this article, we’ll explore how avatars shape our behavior, identity, and social interactions, examine the darker implications of digital self-representation, and provide practical guidance for maintaining psychological wellbeing in our avatar-mediated world.
One of the most powerful mechanisms by which avatars influence us is the Proteus effect, where we unconsciously adopt behaviors matching our avatar’s appearance.
What is avatar psychology and why does it matter now?
Key Avatar Psychology Phenomena: Quick Reference
| Phenomenon | Definition | Real-World Impact |
|---|---|---|
| Proteus Effect | Avatar appearance changes user behavior | Taller avatars negotiate more aggressively; attractive avatars increase social intimacy |
| Digital Embodiment | Psychological sense of “being” the avatar | Brain processes avatar interactions similarly to face-to-face encounters (fMRI evidence) |
| Identity Laboratory | Avatars as safe spaces for self-exploration | LGBTQ+ individuals experiment with gender presentation; 67% report increased self-acceptance |
| Digital Discrimination | Bias against avatars based on race/gender | Darker-skinned avatars receive 40% less help in virtual environments (research data) |
| Identity Paywall | Monetization of avatar customization | Authentic self-expression becomes commodity; inequality in digital identity capital |
Avatar psychology is the study of how digital representations of ourselves influence our behavior, identity, and social interactions in virtual environments. Research shows that the appearance and characteristics of our avatars can fundamentally alter how we act online—a phenomenon known as the Proteus Effect—while also serving as tools for identity exploration, particularly for marginalized communities.
The term “avatar” has traveled far from its Sanskrit origins, where it described the earthly incarnation of a deity. Today, it represents something equally profound: the digital incarnation of ourselves. In my two decades working with clients navigating digital identity issues, I’ve observed a remarkable shift. Where once avatars were dismissed as mere gaming novelties, they’ve become fundamental to how we work, socialize, and understand ourselves.
The COVID-19 pandemic accelerated this transformation dramatically. Suddenly, millions found themselves represented by Zoom thumbnails, Slack profile pictures, and virtual meeting avatars for hours daily. This wasn’t optional—it was survival in a socially distanced world. The psychology of avatars moved from fringe interest to mainstream relevance practically overnight.
The numbers tell the story: Before 2020, virtual meeting platforms had approximately 10 million daily active users globally. By mid-2020, that number exploded to over 300 million. Each of those users faced a sudden necessity to curate their digital representation—choosing profile pictures, selecting virtual backgrounds, deciding when to appear on camera versus as a static avatar. This wasn’t optional professional development; it was immediate survival in a transformed work environment. The psychological implications are still unfolding. Many workers now report feeling like they “perform” two versions of themselves—the physical person at their home desk and the avatar-mediated professional appearing on colleagues’ screens. This split consciousness represents a historically unprecedented experience of self-representation at mass scale.
The Proteus effect: Becoming who we pretend to be
One of the most fascinating discoveries in avatar research is what scholars call the Proteus Effect—the phenomenon where our avatar’s appearance actually changes our behavior. This behavioral shift is related to the Proteus Effect, which we explore in depth in our dedicated article on this phenomenon. Research by Nick Yee and Jeremy Bailenson demonstrated that participants assigned taller avatars negotiated more aggressively in virtual environments, while those given more attractive avatars behaved more intimately with strangers. Think about that for a moment: a digital representation can fundamentally alter how we act.
This isn’t just academic curiosity. In my clinical practice, I’ve worked with clients whose confidence in professional virtual meetings increased significantly when they invested time in creating avatars that projected competence and authority. One client, a woman of color in a predominantly white tech company, described how customizing her professional avatar to reflect her cultural identity helped her feel “more grounded and authentic” in virtual spaces where she’d previously felt marginalized.
Identity exploration and the digital laboratory
From a progressive, humanistic perspective, avatars offer something profoundly liberating: a safe space for identity exploration without immediate real-world consequences. LGBTQ+ individuals have long used online spaces and avatars to experiment with gender presentation before—or instead of—coming out physically. This process connects deeply with broader patterns of digital identity formation and how we construct multiple versions of ourselves across platforms. Virtual worlds like Second Life and VRChat have become crucial spaces for transgender individuals to experience their authentic gender identity in embodied ways.
Research published in the journal Cyberpsychology, Behavior, and Social Networking has documented how marginalized groups use avatar customization as a form of resistance against dominant cultural narratives. When the default avatar is a white, male, able-bodied figure, choosing to create something different becomes a political act—a digital assertion of existence and worth.
Avatar identification is a manifestation of self-presence, one of the three dimensions of virtual presence in digital environments.
The dark side: When avatars amplify inequality
However—and this is crucial—we must acknowledge that the psychology of avatars doesn’t operate in a vacuum free from societal prejudices. Instead, virtual spaces often replicate and sometimes amplify real-world discrimination.
The bias baked into pixels
A troubling body of research demonstrates that users treat avatars differently based on perceived race and gender. Studies have shown that darker-skinned avatars receive less help from other players in online games, are approached less frequently in virtual social spaces, and face more hostile interactions. This digital discrimination has real psychological consequences for the humans behind those avatars. These patterns of exclusion mirror broader issues of digital identity fragmentation and online hate speech.
Moreover, many avatar creation systems reflect deeply problematic defaults. Until recently, many platforms offered limited options for diverse skin tones, natural Black hairstyles, or body types beyond thin or muscular. When a Latina teenager can’t create an avatar that looks remotely like her, or when someone with a disability finds no representation in avatar options, the message is clear: you don’t belong here.
The implications extend beyond individual psychological harm to structural exclusion. When virtual professional networking events, job interviews, and conferences increasingly occur in avatar-mediated spaces, bias against non-white, non-male, non-able-bodied avatars doesn’t just hurt feelings—it constrains career opportunities and economic advancement. A 2023 study examining virtual job fairs found that recruiters spent 34% less time engaging with darker-skinned avatars even when qualifications were identical. This isn’t speculation about potential future problems; it’s documented discrimination happening now in spaces increasingly central to professional life. Addressing avatar bias isn’t just about fairness in games—it’s about ensuring equitable access to the economic and social opportunities mediated through virtual environments.
The commodification of digital identity
We should also discuss the capitalist machinery grinding behind avatar culture. Gaming and social platforms increasingly monetize avatar customization, creating what I call “identity paywalls”—where expressing your authentic self requires purchasing cosmetic items, often at exploitative prices targeting young people with still-developing impulse control.
This isn’t just about vanity. When self-expression becomes a commodity, we’ve created a system where those with financial resources can project more sophisticated, interesting, or authentic digital identities than those without. In virtual spaces increasingly important for social connection and professional networking, this represents a genuine form of inequality.
How avatars shape our behavior and relationships
The relationship between our avatars and our psychology runs deeper than surface-level representation. Research in the psychology of avatars reveals bidirectional influence: we shape our avatars, but they also shape us.
Platform-specific avatar psychology: From VRChat to LinkedIn
The psychological impact of avatars varies dramatically depending on the platform and context. Understanding these differences helps us navigate our increasingly avatar-mediated lives with greater awareness and intentionality.
VRChat and social VR: In fully immersive virtual reality social spaces like VRChat, avatar embodiment reaches its most intense form. Users report feeling genuine physical sensations when their avatar is touched or attacked—a phenomenon researchers call “virtual embodiment.” I’ve interviewed VRChat users who describe their avatar as feeling “more real than my body” during extended sessions. The platform’s permissive customization has created a unique culture where fantastical avatars (anthropomorphic animals, anime characters, abstract forms) are the norm rather than exception. This liberation from human-form constraints allows for identity experimentation impossible in more conventional spaces. However, this same freedom can create psychological dissonance when users must “return” to their physical bodies, sometimes experiencing what they describe as “species dysphoria” or temporary dissociation.
Professional avatars in Zoom and Teams: The explosion of workplace video conferencing introduced millions to a different avatar dynamic: the static profile picture as stand-in during “camera off” moments. Research during the pandemic revealed that employees strategically craft these images to project competence, friendliness, and professionalism—often spending significant time selecting the “right” photo. Women reported feeling particular pressure to appear “approachable but authoritative,” while people of color described calculated decisions about hairstyle representation to avoid discrimination. These aren’t trivial aesthetic choices—they’re psychological labor performed to manage others’ perceptions in professional contexts where advancement opportunities are at stake.
Gaming avatars and performance identity: In competitive gaming and esports, avatars serve yet another psychological function: they’re performance tools. Professional gamers develop deep identification with their in-game characters, sometimes describing the avatar as an extension of their strategic thinking. The psychology here differs from social VR because the avatar isn’t primarily about self-expression—it’s about competitive advantage and skill demonstration. This creates interesting tensions when games implement cosmetic systems that allow visual customization without affecting gameplay. Players must balance personal expression with competitive optimization, revealing how we prioritize different aspects of identity depending on context.
Social connection through digital embodiment
During the pandemic, many of us experienced something unexpected: genuine connection through digital avatars. Whether gathering with colleagues in virtual meeting rooms, attending concerts in Fortnite, or celebrating birthdays in Animal Crossing, these avatar-mediated experiences weren’t merely substitutes for “real” interaction—they were real interactions, just mediated differently.
Neuroscience research using fMRI scanning has shown that our brains process avatar interactions remarkably similarly to face-to-face encounters. When someone helps our avatar in a game, the same reward centers activate as when someone helps us physically. When our avatar is rejected or attacked, we experience genuine emotional distress.
The case of workplace avatars and professional identity
Consider the explosion of virtual and hybrid work environments. Organizations rapidly adopted platforms like Meta’s Horizon Workrooms or Microsoft’s Mesh, where colleagues interact through avatars rather than video feeds. Early research suggests this creates interesting psychological dynamics.
Some workers report feeling less self-conscious in avatar-based meetings—freed from concerns about appearance, domestic background visibility, or the exhausting self-monitoring of being constantly on camera. Others describe feeling disconnected or struggle to read social cues without facial expressions and body language. There’s a class dimension here too: who gets to work from home with avatar representation, and who must show up physically?
Practical guidance: Navigating avatar psychology mindfully
Understanding avatar psychology isn’t just academic—it has practical implications for how we craft and interact with our digital representations. Here’s evidence-based guidance for healthier avatar relationships:
1. Audit your avatar portfolio: Take inventory of how you represent yourself across different platforms. Do your gaming avatar, professional profile picture, and social media presence reflect different aspects of your identity, or do they feel fragmented and disconnected? Research suggests that excessive identity fragmentation across platforms can increase psychological stress and feelings of inauthenticity. Consider whether your various avatars represent genuine facets of a coherent self or feel like performance masks you’re exhausted maintaining.
2. Experiment intentionally with the Proteus Effect: If you’ve been feeling stuck in certain behavioral patterns online, try consciously altering your avatar’s characteristics and observing how your behavior shifts. One technique I recommend to clients is the “confidence avatar experiment”—create an avatar that embodies qualities you want to develop (assertiveness, creativity, openness) and notice whether inhabiting that representation influences your actions. This isn’t about deception; it’s about using digital spaces as psychological laboratories for growth.
3. Recognize avatar-based discrimination when you encounter it: If you notice your avatar receiving differential treatment based on perceived race, gender, or other characteristics, name it for what it is: discrimination. Document these experiences if you feel comfortable doing so. Several research projects now collect data on virtual discrimination, and your reports contribute to broader understanding and potential platform accountability. More immediately, recognizing the discrimination as systemic rather than personal can reduce psychological harm.
4. Set boundaries around avatar commodification: Before purchasing avatar customization items, ask yourself: Am I buying this because it genuinely enhances my self-expression, or because the platform has engineered a sense of inadequacy with default options? This isn’t to shame anyone who enjoys cosmetic purchases—but cultivating awareness of when you’re being manipulated by “identity paywalls” versus making authentic choices preserves psychological autonomy and financial wellbeing.
5. Check in with your embodied self regularly: If you spend significant time in avatar-mediated spaces, establish practices that reconnect you with physical embodiment. This might be as simple as brief stretching between gaming sessions or deliberately noticing physical sensations after VR experiences. The goal isn’t to reject virtual experiences as “less real,” but to maintain integration between your physical and digital experiences rather than experiencing them as competing realities.
Avatar Psychology Self-Assessment Checklist
| Question | Yes | No | What It Means |
|---|---|---|---|
| Do your avatars across different platforms feel like authentic representations of different facets of you? | ✓ | Healthy identity flexibility | |
| Do you feel exhausted maintaining different personas across platforms? | ✓ | Possible identity fragmentation stress | |
| Have you noticed your behavior changing when using different avatars? | ✓ | Proteus Effect in action—awareness is positive | |
| Do you feel pressure to purchase avatar customization to feel “adequate”? | ✓ | Resisting commodification—healthy boundary | |
| Have you experienced or witnessed discrimination based on avatar characteristics? | ✓ | Fortunate—but stay aware for others’ experiences | |
| Do you regularly disconnect from avatar-mediated spaces to reconnect with physical embodiment? | ✓ | Healthy integration practice |
Interpretation: This isn’t a diagnostic tool, but a reflection prompt. If multiple questions raise concerns, consider exploring avatar psychology more deeply or discussing with a therapist familiar with cyberpsychology issues.
The future of avatar psychology: Emerging concerns and possibilities
As we stand at the threshold of increasingly immersive virtual environments—with Apple’s Vision Pro, Meta’s continued metaverse investments, and AI-generated avatars becoming mainstream—the psychology of avatars will only grow more complex and consequential.
AI-generated avatars and the authenticity crisis: Emerging technologies now allow real-time generation of photorealistic avatars that can mimic our expressions, age us down or up, or present idealized versions of ourselves. While this offers unprecedented customization, it also introduces profound questions about authenticity and trust. If I’m interacting with your avatar in a meeting, am I engaging with you or with an AI-mediated representation optimized to present you favorably? Early research suggests this uncertainty creates “representation anxiety”—constant low-level stress about whether we’re encountering authentic human expression or algorithmic performance.
Persistent virtual identities and psychological continuity: Unlike the relatively siloed virtual experiences of today, emerging platforms promise persistent virtual identities that carry across different experiences and contexts. Imagine a single avatar that represents you in work meetings, social gatherings, gaming sessions, and educational contexts. This persistence could reduce the identity fragmentation stress mentioned earlier—or it could collapse necessary boundaries between different social roles, creating new psychological pressures. The concept of “context collapse” familiar from social media may intensify dramatically in persistent virtual worlds.
Avatar rights and digital dignity: As our avatars become more central to professional and social life, questions of avatar rights emerge. Should there be legal protections against avatar harassment or assault in virtual spaces? (Several jurisdictions are already grappling with this question after reported incidents of virtual sexual harassment causing genuine trauma.) Can employers require certain avatar characteristics, or does that constitute discrimination? These aren’t hypothetical concerns—they’re actively being negotiated in courts and corporate policies right now, with significant implications for psychological safety in virtual environments.
Therapeutic applications and concerns: The flip side of these risks is tremendous therapeutic potential. Virtual reality exposure therapy using customized avatars has shown remarkable effectiveness for treating phobias, PTSD, and social anxiety. Researchers are exploring whether avatar-mediated therapy might be particularly effective for clients who struggle with traditional face-to-face counseling due to trauma, neurodivergence, or cultural factors. However, we must proceed carefully—the psychological intensity of avatar experiences cuts both ways, meaning poorly designed virtual therapy could potentially cause harm as well as healing.
The psychology of avatars isn’t a niche concern for gamers and tech enthusiasts anymore. It’s becoming fundamental to how humans experience identity, community, and reality itself in the 21st century. By understanding these dynamics now—including both their liberatory potential and their risks—we position ourselves to navigate the increasingly avatar-mediated future with greater awareness, agency, and psychological wellbeing.
Practical guidance: Navigating avatar psychology healthily
So how do we harness the positive aspects of the psychology of avatars while mitigating potential harms? Based on clinical experience and research evidence, here are actionable strategies:
Self-awareness practices for avatar users
| Practice | Purpose | Implementation |
|---|---|---|
| Avatar-self reflection | Understand what your avatar choices reveal about your identity and aspirations | Periodically ask: “Why did I choose this appearance? What does it represent to me?” |
| Behavior monitoring | Notice if you behave differently when using different avatars | Keep a brief journal noting how you acted in virtual spaces and whether it aligned with your values |
| Authenticity checks | Ensure your digital representations don’t create unsustainable disconnection from your physical self | Ask: “Am I using my avatar to explore identity or escape from it?” |
| Boundary setting | Prevent avatar-mediated interactions from dominating your psychological landscape | Set time limits for avatar-based socializing; maintain offline relationships |
Red flags and warning signs
Watch for these indicators that avatar use might be problematic:
- Extreme distress when unable to access your avatar or when it’s criticized
- Preference for avatar-mediated interaction even when face-to-face options are available and safe
- Significant financial strain from purchasing avatar customizations or items
- Identity confusion or feeling that your “real self” only exists in digital form
- Using avatars primarily to harass others or behave in ways dramatically inconsistent with your stated values
These aren’t automatic pathology indicators—context matters enormously. For a transgender person, feeling more authentic through their avatar isn’t concerning; it might be affirming and healthy. But if someone is using avatar anonymity to engage in behavior they’d later regret or that harms others, that warrants reflection.
For parents and educators
If you’re supporting young people navigating avatar culture, consider these approaches:
Open dialogue matters more than restriction. Rather than forbidding avatar-based platforms, engage curious conversations: “What did you choose for your character? Why?” These discussions reveal how young people conceptualize identity and can identify concerning patterns early.
Model healthy digital identity practices. Talk openly about your own choices with professional profiles or social media representation. Demonstrate that digital identity is something we can approach thoughtfully rather than reactively.
Address discrimination directly. When young people encounter or witness bias toward avatars based on perceived race, gender, or other characteristics, name it. Help them understand that digital spaces aren’t free from the prejudices that plague physical ones—and that they can choose not to perpetuate that harm.
Current controversies and future directions
The field of the psychology of avatars is rife with legitimate debates that deserve attention. One significant controversy concerns photorealistic avatars and deepfake technology. As virtual representations become increasingly indistinguishable from reality, where do we draw ethical lines? Companies are developing avatars that can attend meetings “for you,” responding in real-time using AI trained on your communication patterns. This raises profound questions about presence, authenticity, and consent.
Another heated debate concerns avatar regulation. Should there be limits on avatar appearance or behavior in certain contexts? Some argue that professional virtual spaces should enforce dress codes or appearance standards, much like physical offices. Others—and I lean toward this perspective—see such regulation as an extension of oppressive norms about acceptable presentation, potentially discriminating against cultural expression and individual autonomy.
The metaverse question
We cannot discuss avatar psychology without addressing the so-called “metaverse”—though frankly, the hype has far outpaced the reality. Tech companies promise immersive virtual worlds where we’ll work, play, and socialize primarily through avatars. From a humanistic, left-leaning perspective, I’m deeply skeptical.
The vision being sold is one where corporations own the infrastructure of our social and psychological lives. Where connection requires expensive hardware. Where our digital identities and the data they generate become profit centers. Where those who can’t afford participation face new forms of exclusion. The psychological implications are troubling: are we heading toward a future where meaningful connection requires corporate mediation?
That said, the technology isn’t inherently problematic—it’s the political and economic structures shaping its development. Decentralized, community-owned virtual spaces offer different possibilities. The challenge is ensuring that as avatar psychology evolves, it does so in service of human flourishing rather than shareholder value.
Key Takeaways: What You Need to Remember About Avatar Psychology
- Your avatar changes your behavior
The Proteus Effect is real and measurable—be intentional about how you represent yourself digitally, recognizing that appearance influences action. - Avatars enable identity exploration
For marginalized groups, especially LGBTQ+ individuals, avatars provide safe laboratories for authentic self-discovery without immediate real-world risks. - Virtual discrimination is real discrimination
Bias against avatars based on race, gender, and ability causes genuine psychological harm and constrains opportunities in increasingly virtual professional spaces. - Self-expression shouldn’t require payment
Be aware of “identity paywalls” that commodify authentic representation—resist engineered inadequacy with default options. - Balance virtual and physical embodiment
Regular reconnection with your physical body prevents dissociation and maintains psychological integration across your experiences. - The future is increasingly avatar-mediated
Understanding avatar psychology now prepares you for emerging virtual environments where digital representation becomes even more central to professional and social life.
Synthesis and future reflection
Throughout this exploration of the psychology of avatars, we’ve seen how these digital representations function as far more than cosmetic choices. They’re psychological tools for identity exploration, social connection, and self-expression. They can liberate us from restrictive physical embodiment or trap us in new forms of commodified identity. They reflect our best aspirations and our worst prejudices.
In my clinical work, I’ve witnessed both the damage and the healing that avatar-mediated experiences can facilitate. I’ve worked with socially anxious individuals who built social skills through online gaming communities. I’ve supported transgender clients who described their avatar as “the first time I saw myself.” I’ve also counseled people struggling with gaming addiction, body image issues exacerbated by impossible avatar beauty standards, and victims of harassment in virtual spaces.
The crucial insight is this: avatars are neither inherently good nor bad. They’re tools that amplify human psychology—with all its complexity, contradiction, and potential. As we move into an increasingly digital future, our task is ensuring these tools serve humanistic values: authentic connection, equitable access, genuine self-expression, and psychological wellbeing.
Looking forward, I hope we’ll see more research examining avatar psychology across different cultural contexts, more attention to how marginalized groups use avatars for empowerment and resistance, and critically, more pressure on technology companies to design avatar systems that prioritize user wellbeing over engagement metrics and profit.
A call to action
So what should you do with this information? Start paying attention. Notice how you feel when creating or using avatars. Consider what they reveal about your identity, aspirations, and perhaps your insecurities. If you’re a mental health professional, get curious about your clients’ digital lives—their avatar choices might reveal aspects of identity they struggle to express verbally.
Advocate for more inclusive avatar creation tools. Support platforms that offer genuine diversity in representation. Call out discrimination when you witness it in virtual spaces. And most importantly, remember that behind every avatar—no matter how fantastical or different from “reality”—is a human being seeking connection, expression, and belonging.
Our digital alter egos aren’t escapes from reality. Increasingly, they are our reality. The question isn’t whether to engage with avatar psychology, but how to do so in ways that honor our full humanity—messy, complex, and beautifully diverse as it is.
These concepts are rooted in fundamental cyberspace theory, which provides the theoretical framework for understanding virtual environments.
Conclusion: Your avatar, yourself—with intention
The psychology of avatars reveals something profound about contemporary human experience: we are already cyborgs in a meaningful sense. Not because of hardware implants, but because our consciousness extends into and expresses itself through digital representations that genuinely affect our behavior, relationships, and self-understanding.
This isn’t cause for alarm or celebration—it simply is. The question isn’t whether to engage with avatar-mediated spaces (for most of us, that ship has sailed), but how to do so with awareness, intentionality, and care for both ourselves and others.
The research is clear: avatars are not trivial aesthetic choices or superficial gaming features. They’re psychological technologies with real power to shape who we become. When we assign ourselves a taller avatar and subsequently negotiate more confidently, when we experiment with gender presentation in VRChat and discover aspects of ourselves previously suppressed, when we craft a professional profile picture that helps us feel legitimate in spaces where we’ve experienced marginalization—in all these moments, avatars are doing psychological work.
But this power cuts both ways. The same avatar systems that enable liberatory identity exploration can also encode and amplify discrimination. The same customization features that allow authentic self-expression can also become commodified “identity paywalls” that privilege those with financial resources. The same immersive embodiment that creates genuine connection can also fragment our sense of self across irreconcilable personas.
Navigating this complex terrain requires what I call “avatar literacy”—a critical awareness of how these systems work, whose interests they serve, and how to use them in service of your authentic wellbeing rather than becoming used by them. This means questioning defaults, recognizing when you’re being manipulated, naming discrimination when you encounter it, and maintaining integration between your physical and digital experiences.
As we move toward increasingly avatar-mediated futures—with persistent virtual identities, AI-generated representations, and professional and social life ever more entwined with virtual spaces—this literacy will only become more essential. The psychology of avatars isn’t a niche academic specialty; it’s fundamental to understanding what it means to be human in the 21st century.
Your avatar is you—not all of you, but a real facet of you extended into digital space. Treat it, and others’ avatars, with the dignity, curiosity, and care that all expressions of human identity deserve. In doing so, we create virtual worlds that amplify our humanity rather than diminishing it.
References
Bailenson, J. N. (2018). Protecting nonverbal data tracked in virtual reality. JAMA Pediatrics, 172(10), 905-906.
Groom, V., et al. (2009). The influence of racial embodiment on racial bias in immersive virtual environments. Social Influence, 4(3), 231-248.
