Article Summary
What this article covers: How authenticity, ownership and cultural heritage are being tested in the metaverse, from avatar identity and NFTs to digital twins of historic sites.
Who this is for: Travellers, cultural heritage custodians, and brands or content creators considering a presence in virtual spaces.
Key takeaway: Owning a token in the metaverse rarely means owning the underlying asset, and no digital twin of a heritage site replaces the experience of visiting it in person.
Expert insight: “Every virtual world sells itself as ownership, but most of what people actually get is a licence that can be changed or switched off overnight. That gap between what people think they own online and what they can actually keep is where most of the ethical problems in the metaverse begin.” — Ciaran Connolly, Founder of ConnollyCove
Quick facts:
- UK GDPR and the EU’s developing AI Act both extend to biometric data captured by VR headsets, though neither law was written specifically for immersive technology.
- Buying an NFT typically grants a licence tied to a digital file, not automatic copyright over the underlying artwork.
- UNESCO’s Charter on the Preservation of the Digital Heritage sets out standards for safeguarding digital records, including 3D scans of historic sites.
Table of Contents
The metaverse promises endless possibilities, yet it raises hard questions about who we really are online and what we can actually claim as ours. Avatars can be copied. Digital assets can vanish overnight when a platform changes its terms. Ancient monuments can be scanned and sold as virtual experiences without the communities who built them ever being consulted.
These are not abstract worries reserved for developers and lawyers. Anyone who buys a virtual item, builds a brand presence in a digital world, or simply wonders whether a scanned replica of a sacred site respects its origins is already part of this conversation.
This article works through the authenticity crisis facing avatars and digital identity, the ownership fallacy behind NFTs and platform licences, the privacy questions raised by biometric tracking, and what centuries of Irish heritage can teach us about protecting culture in virtual spaces.
Understanding Authenticity and Ownership in the Metaverse
Before weighing the risks, it helps to define what the metaverse actually asks of users, creators and cultural custodians alike. Ireland’s own experience with storytelling and myth turns out to be a useful lens for thinking about digital identity long before Web3 existed.
What the Metaverse Actually Means for Everyday Users
The metaverse is not one single app or platform. It is a collection of persistent, three-dimensional online spaces where people interact through avatars, trade digital goods and attend events that mix the real and the virtual.
For most people, this shows up as gaming worlds, virtual meeting spaces or branded experiences rather than a single unified universe. ConnollyCove has already explored how technology now carries old stories into new formats, and the metaverse is simply the newest chapter of that shift.
Understanding this landscape matters before judging it. Dismissing the metaverse as a passing trend ignores how many young people already treat virtual spaces as genuine social venues, with real friendships, real spending and real consequences attached to what happens there.
Why Authenticity Is Suddenly a Design Problem
Authenticity used to mean a person standing in front of you. In virtual spaces, it now depends on systems designed to verify who someone claims to be.
Avatars can be stylised, anonymous or entirely synthetic, and platforms rarely make it obvious which is which. ConnollyCove’s coverage of virtual pilgrimages to sacred sites shows how quickly this question moves from gaming into culture and travel, where trust in what you are experiencing really matters.
If you are exploring a digitised version of a temple or a shrine, you deserve to know whether it was built with input from the community that holds it sacred, or simply modelled from a handful of tourist photographs. That distinction shapes whether the experience informs or misrepresents.
Ownership Without a Physical Object
Traditional ownership rests on possession: you hold the deed, the key or the object. Virtual ownership rests on code, and code is only as reliable as the platform enforcing it.
This distinction sits at the centre of most metaverse disputes. As ConnollyCove has noted when covering cultural festivals adapting to digital innovation, communities are already grappling with who controls a digital version of something they built by hand.
A festival organiser who livestreams a parade keeps clear authorship over that footage. A festival recreated inside someone else’s virtual world, using someone else’s engine and someone else’s servers, hands most of that control away by default.
The Authenticity Crisis: Avatars, Deepfakes and Digital Trust

Once identity becomes something you can design rather than simply have, several ethical problems follow quickly. The next three issues show how deeply this affects real people, not just abstract systems.
The Proteus Effect: How Avatars Change Behaviour
Research on the so-called Proteus effect shows that people’s real-world behaviour shifts to match the appearance of their avatar, often without them noticing. A taller, more confident-looking avatar can make a shy person act more assertively online.
This matters ethically because platforms can quietly nudge behaviour through avatar design choices. Ireland’s own folklore anticipated this idea long before psychology gave it a name. ConnollyCove’s guide to the fairy faith and belief in the Otherworld describes a tradition built entirely around the idea that stepping into another realm changes who you become there.
Platform designers rarely publish how their avatar systems were tested, so users are left to notice the effect on themselves rather than being warned about it in advance. That gap between design intent and user awareness is where much of the ethical concern sits.
Deepfakes and Synthetic Identity Theft
Deepfake technology now makes it possible to generate a convincing video or voice of someone without their consent. In the metaverse, this risk multiplies because avatars and voice synthesis are built into the platform by default rather than added afterwards.
Shape-shifting deceivers are hardly a new idea. ConnollyCove’s comparative mythology coverage shows how cultures worldwide have long told stories about beings who take another’s form, usually as a warning about the damage that false identity can do to trust within a community.
Watermarking synthetic media and requiring clear disclosure when an avatar is AI-generated would address much of this risk, yet adoption across major platforms remains patchy and largely voluntary.
Cultural Impersonation in Virtual Spaces
Beyond individual identity theft sits a broader problem: virtual likenesses of real cultural figures, historical or living, being used without permission or context. A poorly researched avatar of a well-known figure can distort public memory just as easily as it can honour it.
This is why accuracy matters so much when digital platforms touch on real lives and legacies. ConnollyCove’s own coverage of famous Irish people is built on verified biographical detail precisely because misrepresentation, even well-meaning, causes lasting harm.
Families and estates increasingly have to police unauthorised digital likenesses of relatives who never consented to appear in a virtual world at all, a burden that falls hardest on communities with the least legal resources to fight it.
The Ownership Fallacy: NFTs, Licences and Digital Heritage
Ownership is where most of the metaverse’s ethical confusion concentrates, largely because the language used rarely matches the legal reality underneath it. The following breakdown separates the marketing claims from what buyers are actually getting.
Owning a Token Is Not the Same as Owning an Asset
Buying an NFT typically means owning a blockchain record that points to a digital file, not the copyright or underlying rights to that file. The platform’s terms of service, not the blockchain, usually decide what you can actually do with it.
Cultural symbols raise a related question about who controls reproduction and meaning. ConnollyCove’s guide to Celtic knots and their meanings touches on how freely these designs are reproduced commercially, often without any connection to the communities that first gave them meaning.
The same pattern is repeating with NFTs. A buyer can hold the token while a platform retains the right to alter, delist or reformat the artwork behind it, leaving the purchaser with far less control than the sale page implied.
What Happens When a Platform Shuts Down
Centralised metaverse platforms can revoke, delete or simply discontinue the very assets users believe they own. There is rarely a meaningful appeals process, and refunds are the exception rather than the rule.
Physical heritage offers a useful contrast. Blarney Castle’s history stretches back more than five centuries and answers to no terms-of-service update, a permanence that no virtual world has yet matched.
Several once-prominent virtual worlds have already closed entirely, taking years of user-built content with them. Anyone investing real time or money into a metaverse project should treat that outcome as a realistic possibility rather than an edge case.
Who Owns a Digital Twin of a Heritage Site?
When a historic monument is laser-scanned and rebuilt in a virtual world, the resulting 3D model is usually copyrighted by whoever paid for the scan, not by the public or the descendants connected to the site. That leaves a strange gap between physical stewardship and digital control.
Ireland’s ancient passage tombs illustrate the stakes well. ConnollyCove’s exploration of sacred geometry in Ireland shows the precision behind sites built thousands of years ago, precision that a scan can measure but never fully explain. UNESCO’s own Charter on the Preservation of the Digital Heritage sets out why safeguarding these digital records still requires the same care as protecting the sites themselves.
Local heritage bodies are rarely consulted before a commercial scan takes place, which means the resulting virtual replica can end up governed entirely by copyright law rather than by anyone with a genuine stake in the site’s meaning.
Privacy, Regulation and Building an Ethical Metaverse
Ethics in virtual spaces cannot rest on good intentions alone. It needs data protection, clear rules and practical guidance for the businesses and creators building these experiences.
Biometric Tracking and the New Data Frontier
VR headsets can capture eye movement, facial micro-expressions and even gait, data far more revealing than a browsing history. Few users realise how much of this is collected simply by putting on a headset.
Responsible technology adoption starts with understanding what a device actually gathers before using it. ConnollyCove’s look at mindful, sustainable approaches to travel technology makes a similar point about choosing tools deliberately rather than accepting every default setting.
Eye-tracking data in particular can reveal attention patterns, emotional response and even early signs of certain health conditions, information that most users never intended to hand over simply by putting on a headset for a game.
Regulation Is Catching Up
UK GDPR and the EU’s emerging AI Act are both being tested against biometric data captured in immersive environments, though neither was written with headsets in mind. Enforcement remains inconsistent, and much of the current protection depends on platforms self-regulating.
Businesses operating across the UK and Ireland need to treat this as a live compliance question rather than a future one, particularly where any virtual experience collects data from under-18 users.
The UK’s Online Safety Act adds a further layer, placing direct duties on platforms hosting interactive content that children can access, whether that content sits on a traditional website or inside a headset.
Practical Steps for Brands and Creators
Any organisation considering a presence in virtual spaces should start with three questions: what data will be collected, who owns the resulting content, and what happens if the platform disappears tomorrow. Answering these before launch avoids far costlier problems later.
This is exactly the kind of digital strategy work that requires specialist support. ProfileTree’s analysis of the challenges facing brands in the metaverse covers similar ground from a marketing and digital transformation perspective, and organisations weighing up their first virtual project would do well to plan the content, consent and data questions with the same rigour ConnollyCove applies to documenting the history behind Ireland’s historic castles.
A tourism board considering a virtual preview of a heritage attraction, for example, faces the same due diligence questions as any brand entering the metaverse: who holds the rights to the scan, how visitor data is handled, and what the fallback plan looks like if the chosen platform folds.
Cultural Stewardship: What Irish Heritage Teaches Us About Virtual Worlds

Ireland has centuries of practice in deciding how stories, sites and symbols should be shared without losing their meaning. That experience has real lessons for anyone building or exploring virtual heritage today.
Digital Twins of Sites Like Newgrange
Photogrammetry can map a passage tomb down to the millimetre, recording every kerbstone and carving with extraordinary precision. What it cannot capture is the lived context: the community that maintains the site, the seasonal rituals tied to it, and the reasons it was built in the first place.
Sites connected to the Tuatha Dé Danann sit at the heart of this tension, since their mythology is inseparable from the physical landscape it grew from.
Travellers exploring this region often say the same thing: a photograph or a scan can prepare you for a visit, but it cannot substitute for the way morning light moves across an ancient stone or the quiet of standing where these stories were first told.
“A scan can map every stone of a passage tomb down to the millimetre, but it cannot capture the feeling of standing in that chamber as the light moves across it,” says Ciaran Connolly, Founder of ConnollyCove. “As virtual heritage projects grow, the goal should be to draw people towards the real site and the community around it, not to replace the need to ever visit.”
The Celtic Otherworld: An Old Idea for a New Problem
Long before Web3, Irish tradition told stories about Tír na nÓg, a timeless Otherworld that offered beauty and escape but quietly separated visitors from their own humanity. Anyone who stayed too long often returned changed, or could not return at all.
ConnollyCove’s wider coverage of Irish mythology shows how consistently these stories warn against losing yourself in an alternate reality, a caution that applies just as well to hours spent immersed in a headset.
Reading these tales alongside modern debates about screen time and digital wellbeing shows how little the underlying human concern has actually changed, even as the technology delivering it has moved on considerably.
Virtual Tourism Versus Standing on the Ground
Virtual tours genuinely widen access for people who cannot travel due to cost, distance or mobility, and that accessibility should be valued rather than dismissed. What they cannot replace is weather on your skin, the scale of a stone circle, or a conversation with a local guide.
Physical sites such as Classiebawn Castle carry stories that only fully reveal themselves in person, which is why ConnollyCove treats virtual previews as an invitation to travel rather than a substitute for it.
Local guides recommend using a virtual preview to plan a trip, not to replace one, since the practical details of getting there, from opening times to accessibility, still depend on genuinely current, on-the-ground information.
Conclusion
Authenticity and ownership in the metaverse are still being defined, often by the same platforms that profit from the confusion. Treat token ownership sceptically, question how your data and likeness are used, and remember that no scan replaces standing at the real site. Explore ConnollyCove’s guides to Irish heritage and Celtic mythology to see how these questions connect to the places behind the stories.
FAQs
Do you legally own an NFT you buy in the metaverse?
Not usually in the way most buyers assume. You own a blockchain record pointing to a digital file, while the platform’s terms of service still govern what you can actually do with the underlying asset. Read the licence terms before assuming a purchase equals ownership.
What is the Proteus effect?
It describes how a person’s real-world behaviour shifts to match their avatar’s appearance, often without them realising it. A more confident-looking avatar can make someone act more assertively, even outside the virtual environment.
Can virtual tours replace visiting a heritage site in person?
No, though they do widen access for people who cannot travel. A virtual tour can show you the shape of a monument, but not the atmosphere, scale or local context that only physical travel provides.
Who owns the copyright when a historic site is recreated in the metaverse?
Usually, whoever paid for the 3D scan holds the copyright on the digital model, not the public or the community connected to the site. The physical monument itself typically remains protected separately under heritage law.
How is data privacy regulated in virtual reality?
UK GDPR and the EU’s developing AI Act both apply to biometric data collected through VR headsets, though neither was written specifically for immersive technology. Enforcement is still catching up with how much data these devices actually gather.

