Category: Arte

We’re Fucked, Pt. 105: AI-generated audiochapter

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Inteligencia artificial1 Comment

Blessed be the French, at least one of them, that allow you to forget for a while that you were born to work for others and then die. This audiochapter covers chapter 105 of my ongoing novel We’re Fucked.

Cast

  • Leire: a blond and sassy thief who offers you jobs down at the Ragged Flaggon
  • Jacqueline (whispering): some ASMR artist
  • Jacqueline: Geralt of Rivia’s most redheaded girlfriend

I produced audiochapters for the entire previous sequence, and I intend to continue until the novel ends or I suffer a mental breakdown and give up, whichever comes first. A total of two hours, thirty-nine minutes and fifty seconds. Check them out.

We’re Fucked, Pt. 105 (Fiction)

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Inteligencia artificial2 Comments

As I ease the door to Nairu’s bedroom open, a broadening ribbon of hallway light pierces the darkness, creeping up the child-sized bed, reaching the slumbering form of the little girl we call our own. Glow-in-the-dark stars dot the ceiling, and under them, Nairu is lying prone, covered up to her neck in a lemonade-pink quilt featuring unicorns with turquoise-blue manes and self-satisfied smiles. The white light bathes our girl’s tranquil face, as well as strands of her chestnut hair, in a milky glow. Her hands are tucked under her chin, her rosy lips parted. Her torso rises and falls with each gentle breath. Our antediluvian baby.

Nairu must have grown on me like a cluster of orchids blooming in a marsh; I want to kneel by the bed, cradle her face, and rub my thumbs along the ridges of her cheekbones. Deep in dreamland, what fantasies are dancing behind those closed eyes? Is she strolling among towering conifer trees? Is she splashing in a stream, catching prehistoric fish with her bare hands? Is she playing a game of tag with a wooly mammoth while her furry-footed, beastly father cheers her on from the sidelines? Is she riding on the back of her centaur mother, racing through a grassy plain, while sabertooths watch them in awe? Is she fleeing in panic from a stampede of ground sloths? In the frosty quiet, has she stumbled upon the lifeless forms of her mother and father, cold as the ground beneath them?

Even though Nairu has been abducted into a world irradiated with perversion, she dared to drift into dreams in the abode of two women who remain mostly strangers to her, one of whom is a dangerous lunatic. Outside our sanctuary, how many unspeakable horrors lurk in the shadows, eager to suck the marrow from this girl’s bones? I must shield Nairu from enduring the same nightmares that haunt me, but for that I’d have to clean out society one doorstep at a time. Any potential threat to our pixie child? I’d hack them to pieces with a machete.

Jacqueline’s warmth envelops me as she leans into my side, hugging my waist, squeezing her breasts against my left arm. She tilts her head to whisper in my ear.

“Isn’t she lovely, our sweet little doll?”

Her sensual voice has rolled my spine into a tight spring.

“Mh-hm.”

“I get to take care of this innocent child. We are a family.” Her whisper becomes threadbare, as if she struggled to form each syllable. “Years ago, I was so miserable.”

I want to turn my head and meet Jacqueline’s eyes, but she buries her nose in my hair. Her fingers trace a path along the back of my scalp. She lets out a sultry sigh into my ear canal, which vibrates my eardrum with a whooshing noise like wind in a microphone. Goosebumps erupt on my skin.

“And then you appeared,” she whispers, “you twisted thing.”

Jacqueline wraps me tighter. My left earlobe becomes engulfed in a heated humidity as mommy savors the rounded, fleshy part of my ear with her tongue. A purry moan escapes her throat. She laps in slow motion at the outer rim of my ear, then the inner rim, then the hollow next to the ear canal, bathing them in warm saliva. I’m curling my toes and shrugging to keep from breaking in shivers as a tidal surge of desire rises up in my gut.

Before Nairu stirs from her sleep and sees one of her new mothers licking the other’s left ear like a lollipop, I ease the door shut until the latch clicks.

I close my eyes. Jacqueline’s tongue is sliding with a sensuous motion over the cartilaginous hollows, ridges and furrows of my ear, causing saliva to drip down to my earlobe. As she shifts her weight subtly from one foot to the other, and the pressure of her breasts squashing against my left arm intensifies or diminishes, I listen to her sounds: deep breaths, wet smacks when she withdraws her tongue to wet it, throaty noises when she swallows. My bodily heat is pooling in my crotch while an increasing moisture dampens my panties.

A hand lifts the front of my shirt, and those fingers caress my sunken abdomen. I shiver. A whimper slips out of my mouth. As Jacqueline’s fingertips dally toward my pubic bone, leaving trails of warmth in their wake, my nipples stiffen.

“You want mommy to dote on her baby girl, don’t you, sweetheart?” Jacqueline’s breath kisses the inside of my ear. “Yes, you’re in dire need of mommy attention.”

A feverish desire pulses in my groin, and my pelvic muscles contract involuntarily, while Jacqueline’s left hand unbuttons my trousers. I help her lower the waistband. Her right hand slides inside my trousers and along the curve of my ass, to knead my cheeks hungrily.

A tongue is coating the ridges of my left ear in saliva. A hand glides aside the seat of my panties, then cups and squeezes my bare ass. As a hand wanders down past my pubes, two of its fingers brush against my slit through the drenched panties, that cling to my quivering pussy. Those fingers rub my sex back and forth, sending a thrill through me.

My eyes roll back. Jacqueline’s heat has sunk into my bones and is traveling through my body, setting every corner aglow. I’m feeling faint; my legs threaten to give out from under me. In the center of my mind, a chained, horned wolf bays for sex and blood.

Jacqueline removes her mouth from my ear, and pulls back. I turn my head to meet her cobalt-blues, now glassy. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips parted and wet. She’s sticking her glistening tongue out. From its tip hangs a bead of saliva that gleams like a pearl. I stand on my tiptoes, envelop her coral-pink organ with my lips, and suck on her tongue as if to drain it of nectar.

I’m dizzy, and breathing in a floral fragrance. Jacqueline’s firm hands are stroking my shoulders. The corners of her mouth have risen in a seductive smile.

“Sorry to leave you wet and ready, darling, but… c’est de mieux d’arrêter maintenant, before I fuck you in the hallway. Get that sexy body of yours to the bathroom and freshen up.”

“I-is the rot heavy on my skin?”

“I can tell you have sweated quite a bit.”

“More like crawled through shit.”

Jacqueline chuckles.

“Go ahead and hop in the shower, sweetie. Wash the grime off and feel good again. Once you join me in our bedroom, as I told you on the phone, I’m going to show you something special.”

Author’s note: today’s songs are “Forever” by Roy Harper (also this live version), “My Girls” by Animal Collective, and “Lysergic Bliss” by Of Montreal.

I keep a playlist with all the songs mentioned throughout the novel. A total of a hundred and sixty-eight videos so far. Check them out.

Are you also in dire need of mommy attention? Then check out the audiochapter I produced for this part.

Review: Sayonara Eri, by Tatsuki Fujimoto

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Reseñas1 Comment

Four and a half stars.

I’ll get to see you every time I watch it. No matter how many times I forget you, I’ll remember you again and again.

This is a one-shot manga created by the deranged author of Fire Punch and Chainsaw Man, as well as plenty of other one-shots. Regarding Fujimoto, as it pertains to this story, you should know that the guy is a cinephile who would have rather been an animator than a manga author. In fact, when he got around to coming up with Chainsaw Man, he had become so disillusioned that he intended it to be his last tale, one in which he would go nuts and give zero shits about whether others enjoyed it. Turns out that Chainsaw Man became a worldwide sensation, which has chained Fujimoto into making more manga, starting with a sequel of sorts to his megahit (which may have been a bad idea; I’m not enamoured with it so far).

Anyway, the protagonist of this one-shot I’m reviewing is a middle school kid who is tasked by his mother with the grim duty of recording the last stage of her illness, right up until the moment of her death. The author depicts most of the panels as stills from the videos the kid is recording. As his mother’s condition worsens, we understand that our protagonist hasn’t grasped the enormity of what’s happening to the woman, and when the day comes that he has to walk into that hospital and record his mother’s last moments, he runs away.

As someone who has a terrible time processing his emotions unless he’s recording himself (in a similar way as many writers can’t understand what they’re feeling unless they write it out), and as an aspiring filmmaker, he edits the footage into a movie. He intends to present it at school and get more people to know his late mother.

However, that movie lacked an ending, and the protagonist’s absurd way of concluding it (won’t specify because it’s a spoiler) causes him to get mocked by his classmates. His teachers consider the movie a disgrace to the memory of his mother, and a schoolmate whose mother also died tells him that how he treated her demise was unforgivable.

Despairing, unable to process both his mother’s death as well as having his heartfelt movie mocked savagely, he heads to the roof of the hospital where his mother died, intending to record his suicide. There he meets a female schoolmate named Eri.

She praises his film despite its many faults, and prevents his suicide by dragging him to an abandoned building to watch a series of movies. She intends for him to grow as a filmmaker, so he can ultimately make the movie that represents his true self.

Mr. Fujimoto, master of levitation, just how many twists did you cram in this one-shot? Most of what we witness through the manga is depicted as stills from recorded footage, so we are never sure of our footing. Are we experiencing a recreation of events as the protagonist would have wanted them to happen? Are we watching the elaborate fantasy that he created to cope with the losses in his life? Did any of it happen? Does it matter?

A masterful tale by one of my favorite manga artists, whose taste for the absurd is right up my alley. Sayonara Eri is an ode to the power of art to remake our lives, to allow us to endure the cosmic absurdity for another day.

We’re Fucked, Pt. 104: AI-generated audiochapter

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Inteligencia artificial1 Comment

Nothing like returning home to a French mommy (cue meme “guys literally only want one thing and it’s fucking disgusting”). This audiochapter covers chapter 104 of my ongoing novel We’re Fucked.

Cast

  • Leire: same old thief from the sewers of Riften
  • Jacqueline: the real Triss Merigold

I produced audiochapters for the entire previous sequence, and I intend to continue until the novel ends or the world ends, whichever comes first. A total of two hours, thirty-three minutes and twenty-nine seconds of audiochapters produced so far. Check them out.

Review: O Maidens in Your Savage Season, by Mari Okada

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, ReseñasLeave a comment

Teetering between three-and-a-half and four stars. Great title, by the way.

The author of this manga series is a veteran anime scriptwriter who has worked on, if not put together from the beginning, movies and series like A Whisker Away, Anohana, Toradora!, and Hanasaku Iroha, which are the ones I recognize now from her long list of credits. You can tell that level of professionalism in how she wrote this series: it balances the character arcs of five high school girls, each the protagonist of their own tale, who make up their local literature club. I envy authors who can orchestrate multiple viewpoints in the same story, each with its own character arc.

The series starts with one of the girls reciting a risqué passage of one of the novels they choose among themselves to read: A vision of her pale flesh, and then the soft tangle of her undergrowth, filled my eyes as I got down onto my knees and buried my face into the lush, fragrant bower; moused trembling lips over the contours of her flower to slake my thirst on the sweet, aromatic nectar spilling from the crevice. The way each of the five girls reacts introduces their character arcs.

We have a physically undeveloped girl who, as an aspiring writer, is attempting to publish erotica, but she’s getting rejected because she lacks real experience, and she can’t wait to get fucked and get it over with. A cool, mysterious model-like beauty who appears mature, but who as a child had been (as we find out fairly early on) princess-zoned by a pedophile, which screwed her up. A “childhood friend” type who has lived her entire life next to the guy she likes, but who sees her as a sister, so she isn’t getting anywhere with him. A cheerful and kind girl who has never felt the tingles for anybody, and who isn’t sure if she even likes boys. Finally, a total prude for whom any notion of sex makes her feel as if she’s sinking in toxic sludge.

As the author exposes in the notes at the end of the series, she relied on anime artists to design the girls, and you can tell: those kinds of artists focus on differentiating the visual design of the characters as well as their personalities, something that even novelists should take into account. They end up feeling quite memorable in that respect, as if they could carry a much longer series.

Anyway, the inciting incident of the girls’ development happens when, during one of the many doki doki developments in their (non-suicidal, non-murderous) literature club, they discuss among themselves what they’d like to do before they died. The cool, mysterious beauty of the club says simply that she wants to get fucked (in softer terms). From that day onward, the five girls attempt in their fumbling way to navigate their developing sexuality, usually in manners that involve extreme awkwardness and running away; I don’t think I have ever read any other series in which running away was the solution to so many problems.

As the main dude in this story we have the childhood friend and neighbor of the girl who wants to date him. For whatever reason he’s seen as a suitable mate, although the guy is a clueless dork who is obsessed with trains. As I was wondering what angle the author was playing with him, she soiled the guy further by having that girl catch the kid at home as he was masturbating to rape porn (onboard a train, of course). This is the link to that moment in the anime adaptation.

The girls don’t understand their feelings nor their impulses, and make dubious decisions like trying to score with their teachers, with their former abusers, with each other’s love interests, or with each other. Quite realistic and entertaining in that respect.

Although I have read plenty of manga over the years, even these last few, that involved high schools somehow, this was the first series during which I thought, “Oh shit, is this too girly for me?” I don’t read straight shoujo (nor straight shonen for that matter; I couldn’t get into My Hero Academia). I recall an anime whose concept intrigued me years ago, because it involved a magician who traveled to the past and had to hang out there for reasons. I was going along with its girly parts until they started using pocky sticks as magic wands, at which point I was forced to beat my chest and look up videos of people pummeling each other, to regain my masculinity. But yes, during this series I’m reviewing, I wished it fell much more into the seinen category. Curiously enough, that’s what the author intended, as she says in the notes, but when she started writing the script, the girls kept rebelling, due to their initial innocence, to the sexual activities the author intended to force them through. Still, the story is likely quite risqué for Japan.

I enjoyed the story. I empathized with the girls’ struggles to shed their innocence and become hardened degenerates. However, some emotional moments didn’t land that well for me; I felt that he author was trying to tie everything too neatly. But perhaps I simply didn’t understand the emotional depths she was plumbing. I’m quite emotionally retarded, after all.

Anyway, you’ll enjoy this series if you are interested in the budding sexuality of high school girls.

We’re Fucked, Pt. 104 (Fiction)

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Inteligencia artificial3 Comments

I nudge the front door closed with the back of my sneaker, and it settles behind me with a solid thump. I release my pent-up breath. I’m home, in the private domain of Miss Jacqueline Rouxel. I’m welcomed by the sight of the corridor and the smears of light from the recessed ceiling fixtures reflected in the glossy parquet. To my left opens the ample living room, its walls painted baby blue. The balcony door looks out into a patch of darkness.

A wave of relief washes over me; for the first time since I left for work in the morning, I can loosen my muscles and my brow.

Water is dripping from the moldy, spare umbrella I grabbed at the office. I turn around to slide it into the stand. I take off my corduroy jacket and place it on the coat hanger. My keys hit the tray with a sharp clatter.

Jacqueline is ambling down the corridor to meet me. Her unbound raven-black hair cascades to her shoulder blades, swaying gracefully. She has donned an oyster-pink silk robe, tied up at the waist with a sash, that highlights the contours of her voluptuous figure. As she walks, the light swims within the fabric like sunlight playing on a rippling pond.

I want to proclaim with elation that I’m home, that although I was brought against my will to this strident, chaotic world, I have managed to survive, but my vocal cords refuse to comply. Jacqueline is near enough for her intoxicating fragrance to envelop me with a mixture of freshly-washed skin, soap, cream, roses and jasmine, that triggers an ache of longing deep within me.

My partner in crime, the woman I adore, stops two feet away. Her eyes, cobalt blue like the deep ocean and blue tangs and hyacinth macaws, are brimming with warmth as they gaze down into mine. Her plump lips curve into a radiant smile that lights up her ivory-white features, that weakens my knees. Whatever may exist in this universe beyond Jacqueline blurs as my focus remains locked on my beloved. She bolsters me despite the rot inside me, despite my crippling derangement. Yet, a pang of guilt gnaws at my heart; her tenderness is wasted on such a filthy bitch, whom the rest of the world has rightfully neglected.

In the periphery of my vision, I catch sight of Jacqueline’s midnight-sky-black bra, whose satin fabric glistens subtly and is decorated with lace overlays, that supports the pair of massive breasts. I long to lose myself in eternity ensconced in her arms, burying my face in the ivory-white slopes of her tits so her warmth and softness and familiar scent soothe my frayed nerves. My heart pounds with the desperate need to be engulfed by her like a piece of paper succumbing to a flame.

However, a clammy, mucous-like sensation clings to my skin and clothes. Does Jacqueline’s fine nostrils detect the blob’s putrescent stench mingled with the acrid tang of my own sweat? The rot must have seeped even into the fabric of my panties, that are chafing against my private parts. I’m contaminated, marked with the brand of evil. I need to rip off my tainted clothes and scrub away the filth until my skin feels like it’s been flayed.

“J-Jacqueline, I’ve gone through a disturbing, exceedingly long argument with a blob of sewage.”

She steps closer, leans forward, and presses her plush lips against mine. Her tongue, that velvety organ, plunges in to probe mine warmly. I shudder. The hair on my nape stands up. Hot white noise tingles between my thighs. Her eyelashes flutter, tickling my eyelids, as her quickened pulse throbs through the skin of her lower lip.

While her soft tongue swirls around mine, Jacqueline slides her fingers behind my hips and clasps her palms together in the small of my back, pulling me closer. Her breasts heave against mine as she inhales and exhales, letting out low moans that resonate through me like a hum. My fingertips meander up and down her dorsal groove through the silky fabric of her robe, between the symmetrical ridges of muscle, until I touch the stiff clasp of her bra. As I fiddle with it, my mouth floods further at the prospect of unhooking the clasp and suffocating on those mounds of smooth flesh.

With a wet smacking sound, Jacqueline withdraws her lips from mine, breaking our embrace. I lean forward to resume the kiss, but I’m unable to connect our mouths. When I open my eyes, Jacqueline is gazing at me with the fondness of a mother regarding her child. Her cheeks are flushed pink.

“Bonsoir, ma belle,” she says in a silky accent that washes over me like a bath of lily petals, and makes me picture a rural village in the south of France.

The hot-blooded pleasure that had swelled within me begins to evaporate from my abdomen. I had lost any grasp of what words may mean, but now I’m coming up from my daze in the bottom of a warm sea. Reality, familiar yet foreign, has come into view like a distant shore after a weeks-long maritime journey. I hear the ghostly echo of Jacqueline’s voice asking, “Vous avez fait de votre vie, aujourd’hui, comme une araignée?“

The warmth of her saliva lingers on my tongue as I regain my breath. I struggle to push a single word out.

“B-bonsoir.”

Jacqueline’s lips stretch into a grin that brings out her dimples. The lace trim on her right sleeve slides down to the crook of her elbow as she raises that hand to stroke my cheek. Her tongue darts out and licks her lips.

“Gummy candy and… Mentos?”

“Yeah, I bought some on the way back. I wanted to mask the taste of vomit.”

“You vomited, dear?” Jacqueline’s brows knit together. “From an argument?”

“Ah… Doesn’t matter.”

“Indeed, what would anything that has happened out there matter now that you’re home and we can enjoy ourselves?” Jacqueline steps back, and her cobalt-blues scan me from head to toe. “I must say, though, that I was sure you would have returned a watery ghost. Drenched from the storm, your shoes soiled with mud. But here you stand, almost pristine.”

I let out a dry chuckle.

“I’m glad, because I feel like I spent hours knee-deep in shit. When I left the office, I was expecting to see Donostia in ruins, the buildings crashing down, the bridges falling into the river, the streets crawling with foul abominations… But instead, the storm had subsided to a drizzle.”

“Lucky girl.” Jacqueline grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. “Now come with me, darling.”

As she guides me down the hallway, she casts a glance over her shoulder and raises a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. Her eyes are twinkling.

A sketchbook page adorns the white wall. Our prehistoric prodigy has transformed that canvas of cream with strokes of colorful crayons. Her art depicts a trio bound by handclasp, and as the central figure stands a girl of about ten years old, with peach-orange skin and a swath of chestnut hair. The red smudge forming her mouth is curved into a smile.

Author’s note: the songs for today are “Yours Truly, the Commuter” by Jason Lytle, “Sally Cinnamon” by The Stone Roses, and “Friday I’m In Love” by Yo La Tengo.

I keep a playlist with all the songs mentioned throughout this novel. A total of a hundred and sixty-four videos so far. Check them out.

You want to listen to Jacqueline speak in French, don’t you? You know you do. Check out the audiochapter I produced for this scene.

Such a pleasant start for this demented new sequence titled “Miraculous Milk.”

Ongoing manga: Vinland Saga, by Makoto Yukimura

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, ReseñasLeave a comment

Let me tell ya about the odd manga series that is Vinland Saga, with which I’ve had a peculiar relationship. This is mainly the story of one historical dude named Thorfinn Karlsefni, born in Iceland but destined to spend most of his days very much not in Iceland.

For me, since the tale went through its massive inflection point, Vinland Saga became two stories in one. In the first half, we meet Thorfinn as a kid when he was living with his family in their Icelandic village. Thorfinn’s father used to be a badass mass murderer for some famous Nordic group of killers, until he got sick of it and adopted the philosophy that the true warrior doesn’t fight. After Thorfinn witnesses the consequences of such a change in perspective when they meet a group of hardened killers, our protagonist becomes consumed by a thirst for vengeance that put other vengeance addicts to shame; the guy lives to get stronger, killing whoever stands in his way, in order to murder the man responsible for his rage. We follow him, and his group of mercenaries, as they invade, pillage, murder, and murder some more.

This isn’t much of a review, because, to be honest, I’ve forgotten most of what happened in the first part; I must have read it perhaps a couple of years ago. The point is that for me, the notion of Vinland (that, as a historical aside, was what the first Nordic settlers called North America when they reached the place about five hundred years before Columbus) floated as an intangible Shangri-La: a virginal place where Europeans could flee from the horrors of war, slavery, disease and their own general stupidity to build a new nation that would know no war nor slavery. As the main characters traveled further and further east (pretty sure they got to the so-called Byzantine Empire (actually the eastern half of the Roman Empire; RIP, never forget)), I was happy to hold in my heart that mythical Vinland as the childhood dreams of a broken Thorfinn, who had known nothing but war and death for as long as he could remember.

But Thorfinn went through a personal revelation that has become a bit of a meme recently for mysterious reasons.

As a man who had killed hundreds whose spirits kept tormenting him in nightmares, who had lost his freedom and nearly his life, he turned around and dedicated himself to absolute non-violence. He came to believe that there was no such thing as a righteous kill, and would go to any extent to prevent war from breaking out. With that perspective, he returned to Iceland and gathered a crew of settlers to sail westward and found a new nation in which swords wouldn’t be necessary.

I found myself drifting away from the series at this point. For me the story seemed finished. Worse than that, I started considering Thorfinn an idiot. As a leader who had to take care of a few dozen settlers, he prohibited them from having weapons or building defenses, believing that they would be able to coexist with the natives, whom predictably would consider the Nordics as invaders. Most settlers around him saw Thorfinn as a good guy, but a naïve idealist who may get everyone killed. Now that I’m up-to-date with the manga, I suspect that the author is going to pull a brilliant gotcha to show that Thorfinn’s noble idealism could not survive reality. If his story ends up following the conclusion of the historical Thorfinn Karlsefni, I don’t see how it could go any other way. The author has said recently that the story doesn’t have much longer to go, so we’ll see.

Now let me tell you about this crush of mine. Name’s Hild. Even as a teen, living in a small village with her family, she was a Leonardo da Vinci of the Early Middle Ages, destined to die in obscurity if or when some assholes raided the area.

After a personal tragedy, she finds herself scarred and abandoned in the wilds. Turned into a stoic, tenacious loner, she fends for herself hunting with her own custom-made crossbow, until years later she casually comes across the person responsible for the deaths she had vowed to avenge.

Hild should be the protagonist of Vinland Saga, and yet she’s conspicuously underused as a secondary in a large cast. As far as I’m concerned, Hild should be the protagonist of every story.

Anyway, don’t sleep on Vinland Saga, you who have checked out lots of manga recommendations and passed on this one because you don’t care about vikings. I don’t give a shit about vikings, and this story is fantastic. Follow the adventures of Thorfinn and his pals as they travel around in medieval Europe, meet lots of interesting people and kill plenty of them. In the first half, at least.

Two full seasons of the anime adaptation have already been produced. Regrettably I only watched the first four episodes of the first season, but they were very well done. Here’s the trailer of the first season. It seems that they are on Netflix too.

We’re Fucked, Pt. 103: AI-generated audiochapter

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Inteligencia artificial1 Comment

Will I miss novella-long dialogues, now that this sequence has ended? Likely not. This audiochapter covers chapter 103 of my ongoing novel We’re Fucked.

Cast

  • Leire: Vex, mighty infiltrator that belongs to Riften’s thieves guild
  • Alberto the blob: like a thousand Argonians

I have produced audiochapters for this entire sequence. A total of two hours, twenty-six minutes and forty-one seconds. Check them out.

We’re Fucked, Pt. 103 (Fiction)

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Inteligencia artificial3 Comments

“Don’t look so defeated,” Alberto the blob says. “Listen, I know that the news about an impending apocalypse is hard to wrap your tiny mind around. However, despite how unbearable and loathsome you are, the universe still tolerates the burden of your existence. Don’t forget that.”

I narrow my eyes at the wall-wide, gooey scrotum of fate.

“What I don’t forget,” I retort in a ragged voice, “is that the universe lacks sentience, and therefore can’t give two shits about me or you for that matter. Otherwise it could choose not to implode in a fit of self-annihilation. But thank you, Blubberass, for your manipulative attempt to console me.”

The blob lets out a wet chuckle. I shake my head.

“I’m so glad that I can make even an ectoplasmic wall of pus crack up,” I grumble.

“Oh, quit your bellyaching. All it takes for greatness is the right kind of unhinged. Now that we’re balls deep in the cosmic stew, that’s exactly what we need: a freak among freaks.”

I lower my head as my fingers dig into the fabric of my shirt.

“I don’t even like human beings.” I struggle to push more words past the knot in my throat. “I shouldn’t be the one to save them.”

The putrescent heap of slime gurgles a sloshing sigh.

“Tough titties, pal. You don’t have to like ’em, you just have to save ’em.”

I envision a fire-breathing serpent coiled around the throat of the universe. I force a breath deep into my lungs, then exhale slowly.

“Can we cut the bullshit and get to the point? How in Arachne’s name, pray tell, am I supposed to fix a dying universe? These gaping wounds in the fabric of reality… How can they be stitched back up? What’s your grand plan, Oh Mighty Overlord of the Dark?”

“I’m glad you finally asked!” Alberto proclaims with theatrical flourish. “It’s not like we have been trying to explain the problem to you for weeks. But, you know, no rush. The universe is just on the brink of annihilation.”

My eyelids twitch.

“Get on with it, Blubberball!”

“Alright, alright. No need to feel guilty for your cognitive deficiencies. As a humble servant of the greater good, I will lay out a plan for you: destroy the professor’s machine. As in physically wreck it.”

“If that machine is a nexus of energies, a conduit between dimensions, then once it’s smashed to bits, the energies tapping into it would still exist and the tears in reality would continue to grow. Wouldn’t they?”

Alberto’s gooey form undulates irritably like a fleshy ocean current.

“Leire, you have the intellectual capacity of a walnut, and I’m merely a messenger. I don’t know jack shit about how that machine works. The professor has assured us that his invention should be demolished, so that’s what I’m conveying to you, the only one who can act on this information. Grow some humongous cojones and obliterate the magnum opus of a genius. Hopefully then the tears in space-time will shrink to a pinprick, preventing further entities from slipping through.”

“How am I supposed to smash a bunny machine that taps into the multiverse?”

“Have you forgotten that you’re insane? Have confidence in your mad skills.”

I glance down at my chest, but my breasts aren’t equipped to wield artillery cannons or nuclear missiles.

I shrug.

“Well, I’m a pro at ruining stuff, so I’ll figure it out. Where is this doomsday device located?”

“You’ll come across it, and once you do, you will recognize it immediately.”

My eyebrows knit together in frustration as my temper flares.

“Could you be any vaguer, you mucus-clogged imbecile?!”

“Just shut your cakehole, keep your fucking eyes as well as that interdimensional fuckhole of a brain open, and learn to pay attention to your surroundings.”

“Should a quest to get me interested in the world require universe-ending stakes?!”

“Apparently so, Leire. Apparently so. I mean, it always has to be something grandiose with you. Nevermind the little things, like good hygiene or treating your former co-workers with decency; universe-ending stakes or nothing. And to be honest, after however long I’ve been forced to listen to your babbling, which has turned my mind into a sewer, I feel that the universe ending may be a blessing.”

I rub my hands down my face. My muscles have tensed up with adrenaline, and a headache is gnawing at my skull like a starved rat.

“Is that all you came to convey?” I ask in a weary voice. “I have a pressing appointment with my amatory goddess, so before I hurry to cram in mommy goo by the spoonful, do you intend to bother me with further pieces of invaluable advice?”

“Just remember that you’re our emissary on this plane, all we’ve got, as sickening as the notion may be. We’re cheering for you. One of us is, anyway. I’m realistically pessimistic about your chances.”

I let out a bitter laugh. Sluggish, I shamble back to Jacqueline’s chair and flop down on it. The chair creaks as if complaining.

“Alright, well… I better get going and save the universe or whatever. Let’s keep this shitty world spinning, even though its sentient inhabitants have done little to deserve the ride. As for you, return to your home in the sewerage pipes of hell.”

“Yeah, fuck off, Leire. Enjoy the rest of your depraved existence.”

A smile creeps onto my face.

“You bet I will, Blubberboy.”

The blob makes a rumbling noise like a tuba full of turds. His gelatinous bulk starts convulsing, wobbling and rippling. As dozens of eyeballs shake and bounce against each other, viscous ropes of goo flail out, undulating like inky anacondas. Alberto’s volume is shrinking with a fleshy slurp as if a drain had opened in the wall and were sucking him down.

The puddles and splotches of black goo that have sullied the carpet are stretching dozens of tiny arms. Those wriggling strands, dark vines that grow in fast motion, are pulling themselves from the fabric as they reach out toward the wall. Blackened tissues, with which I had wiped my face after Alberto spat at me, roll up the inner wall of my wastebasket, then tumble across the carpet to meet the interdimensional drain that is pulling in every droplet of tarry putrescence.

A myriad of melon-sized eyeballs pop out from the dwindling mass of slime, dropping onto the carpeted floor with a series of thuds before rolling around like slick marbles. As they come to a halt, they blur, start hissing, and one by one they dissolve into effervescent mists of pollutants that carry a bitter, metallic scent.

With a glug, the last gob of ooze is sucked down into the void. Black and greasy smears remain, like spills of crude oil, but as the rain lashes against the office windowpanes, the stains begin to fade.

Author’s note: the songs for today are “Fat Lip” by Sum 41, and “See You at Your Funeral” by PUP.

I keep a playlist with all the songs mentioned throughout this novel so far. A hundred and sixty-one videos. Check them out.

Enjoy some amateur theatre with AI-generated voices by listening to the audiochapter of this chapter. Check it out.

Thus concludes the saga of Alberto the blob, that started back in chapter 80, during November of last year. This last sequence has been the longest of the novel by a significant margin, with about 25,000 words. You can hear the entirety of this sequence as audiochapters through this link.

The next chapter will kick off a new sequence titled “Miraculous Milk,” throughout which I’ll proceed to lose what little remains of my audience.

Dialogue between three AI people with GPT-4

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Inteligencia artificial, ProgramaciónLeave a comment

This post is a continuation of the following:

Dialogue between three people with GPT-4

As I was refactoring the complicated dialogue system, I figured that I hadn’t tested it by having three AI characters talk to each other. The following conversation was created by GPT-4 from the first word to the last; the system just provided the proper context, information about the speaker, his or her memories about the interlocutors, etc. The setting is the same as in the previous post: Leire, the protagonist from my current novel, gets isekai-d to a fantasy world, where she approaches a pair of gentle fantasy people.

First dialogue

Leire: Excuse me, could you perhaps help me understand where exactly I am? And, um… what year is this? Also, is it normal here for people to get hit by trucks and end up in, what appears to be, a fantasy world?

Elysia Starbinder: You seem quite disoriented, stranger. This is the town of Windhaven, and the year is 2023. As for your other question… well, I can’t say I’ve heard of anyone arriving here via a truck accident before. It sounds like you’ve had a rough journey. Can we assist you further?

Eolan: It’s true, your arrival is quite unusual. But here in Windhaven, we believe in assisting others. If you need help understanding this world, we’ll do our best to guide you. And perhaps, in the process, we might learn something from you too.

Leire: Thank you, your help is… appreciated. I’m Leire. I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I’m not sure how I could possibly be of any use to you, but if there’s anything specific you want to know, feel free to ask.

Elysia Starbinder: Well met, Leire. You’ve found yourself among friends, even if the circumstances of your arrival are quite unprecedented. (Looking at Leire with a playful twinkle in her eyes) And don’t underestimate your worth, sometimes the most unexpected visitors bring the greatest insights. Now, how about we start with what you last remember before finding yourself here?

Eolan: Indeed, Leire. The world is full of mysteries and every journey, no matter how strange, has its lessons. (Pausing thoughtfully for a moment before continuing) As for your story, I am particularly interested in the world you come from. What was it like? And further, it might help us to understand how you found yourself here if you can recall any… unusual occurrences before your arrival.

Leire: Well, my world was… complicated. I worked as a software engineer, had a partner and a daughter. But then there were the trucks, the loud noises, the regret, and the fear of anthropomorphic creatures… (Leire pauses, looking lost in thought) It’s all a blur, really. The last thing I remember clearly is a truck… and then waking up here. I’m not sure how any of this could be of help, but that’s all I have.

Elysia Starbinder: I see, Leire. It seems like you’ve been through a lot. (Elysia offers a comforting smile) Your world sounds vastly different from ours, but that doesn’t mean you’re alone in this. We’re here to help you navigate through this new reality. As for the truck and the strange creatures… it sounds like you might have been caught in a rift between realms. They’re rare, but they do occur. Your memories might be hazy now, but they could return with time. For now, let’s focus on helping you adapt to life in Windhaven.

Eolan: Yes, we’re here for you Leire. You’re not alone. (Eolan’s emerald eyes glow softly in the dim tavern light.) As for your previous world, it seems to be governed by different principles and elements. Here in Windhaven, and in the larger world beyond, we’re guided by the spirit of adventure, unity, magic, and the harmony of nature. Your journey might be unexpected and frightening, but it’s also an opportunity for growth and understanding. As you learn about our world, we too hope to learn from you about yours. Perhaps, together, we can explore the mysteries of these realms and how they intersect.

Leire: Your sentiments are… strange to me. But I suppose in my current predicament, I have no choice but to adapt and understand this new realm. Just don’t expect me to be… enthusiastic about these adventures and unity you speak of. And I must ask, do you also have… gods here, like Arachne, who control the universe?

Elysia Starbinder: Ah, you speak of gods and universal controllers, Leire. Yes, we do have powerful entities in our realm, although they may not be exactly what you’re used to. The Sylphs, for instance, commune with the spirits of the wind. As for Arachne… I can’t say I’ve heard of such a deity. Our world is diverse, with many beliefs and understandings. Perhaps your Arachne is akin to one of our own entities. Tell me, what is Arachne like in your world?

Eolan: Yes, Leire, I’d love to hear more about this Arachne. In our world, we believe in the unity of all living things and the magic that binds us. We have our own entities and spirits, but none named Arachne. Perhaps your beliefs could shed new light on our understanding. (Eolan’s eyes glow with curiosity and anticipation.)

Elysia Starbinder: And remember, Leire, despite our differences, we’re all part of a greater tapestry. Each thread adds to the beauty and complexity of the whole. So, let’s weave your story into ours, starting with Arachne. What kind of deity is she? What powers does she possess? (Elysia’s eyes are full of curiosity and empathy as she leans forward, eager to learn more.)

Eolan: And how does Arachne influence your world, Leire? In our realm, the spirits and entities we commune with often guide us and shape our understanding of the world. They might not control the universe, but they are deeply intertwined with our lives and the magic that exists here. (Eolan’s mossy hair rustles slightly as he leans forward, his intense green eyes reflecting the flickering tavern lights.)

Leire: Arachne… she’s not like your spirits or entities. She controls everything, the whole universe. She’s a spider goddess, weaving the web of fate. She’s not kind, not gentle. She’s… indifferent. She doesn’t care about us, our struggles, our hopes. We’re all just threads in her web, moved at her whim. She’s… she’s the only certainty in my world. I don’t know if she followed me here, or if she even can. But if she did… I don’t think your world will ever be the same.

Elysia Starbinder: A spider goddess weaving the web of fate… that’s a powerful and daunting image, Leire. And her indifference… it’s quite different from the spirits we commune with. They’re part of us, part of our world, and we share a symbiotic relationship with them. Your Arachne, though… she sounds like a force beyond comprehension. I understand why you’d fear her presence here. (Pausing thoughtfully) But remember, each world has its own balance, its own web of fate, if you will. If she did follow you here, it won’t necessarily mean disaster. It could just mean our world is… evolving. And we’ll adapt, as we always have. For now, let’s focus on helping you understand and navigate this world. And if Arachne does make her presence known… we’ll face that challenge together.

Eolan: Leire, the picture you paint of Arachne is indeed daunting. Her indifference and omnipotence seem to starkly contrast with the entities we commune within our realm. But Elysia’s right, every world evolves and adapts its own balance. If Arachne has followed you here, we’ll face that challenge when it comes. For now, let’s ensure you’re safe and understand this new world you’re in. And remember, we’re all learning from each other. Your experiences and knowledge will surely enrich us as well. (Eolan’s eyes glow softly, reflecting a sense of resolve and shared purpose.)

Elysia Starbinder: Leire, your world and ours may be vastly different, but remember, change isn’t always a disaster. It’s also an opportunity for growth and understanding. (Elysia gently reaches across the table, her dawn-lit skin glowing in the dim tavern light.) Just know, you’re not alone in this. We’ll navigate through this together. Now, what else can you tell us about your world? Any other entities or principles we should know about?

Eolan: Yes, Leire, we’re eager to learn more about your world. It’s important for us to understand it as much as possible, as it could help us navigate any changes that might come. And remember, no matter how strange or daunting things might seem, you’re not alone in this. We stand together. (Eolan’s emerald eyes glow warmly, reflecting the sincerity of his words.)

Elysia Starbinder: That’s a difficult reality to grapple with, Leire, this indifferent goddess shaping your fate. But remember, in our world, we believe every entity, every individual, has the power to shape their own destiny. I can understand your fear, but let’s explore this world together, and perhaps you’ll find a new perspective here. Could you tell us more about your life in your world, your daily occupations perhaps? This might help us understand your situation better.

Leire: Back in my world, I was a software engineer. I spent my days coding, debugging, creating software solutions. It was a world of logic and structure, a stark contrast to the rest of my life. And despite my… complicated relationship with humans, I found solace in the solitude of my work. But here… I don’t even know where to start. Everything is so different, so alien. (Leire’s hands fidget nervously on the table, her eyes darting around the foreign tavern.)

Elysia Starbinder: A software engineer… That’s fascinating, Leire. In our world, we don’t have such roles, but I can gather it involves a lot of problem-solving and logic, much like our own mystics. And as for feeling alien, remember, you’re in a place where the wind sings and the spirits dance. It’s different, yes, but perhaps you can find a new rhythm here. Tell me, in your work, what did you value the most? What were your guiding principles? Maybe we can find a starting point there. (Elysia offers a reassuring smile, her sky-colored eyes twinkling with empathy and curiosity.)

Leire: In my work… I valued the logic, the structure. You had a problem, you found a solution. It was… comforting. Guiding principles… they were mostly technical. But I guess, at the core… it was about making things work, making them efficient. But here, I don’t even know what ‘working’ or ‘efficient’ means. It’s… overwhelming. (Leire’s voice trembles slightly, reflecting her fear and uncertainty.)

Eolan: I understand, Leire. Our world might seem chaotic and unstructured in comparison. But beneath the magic and mystery, there’s a profound order and interconnectedness. The trees communicate with the wind, the rivers guide us to the sea, and every creature plays its part in the grand design. Perhaps, in time, you’ll see that your skills as a software engineer, your ability to solve problems and make things work efficiently, can find a new purpose here. Let’s take it one step at a time, shall we? (Eolan’s intense green eyes glow with reassurance as he offers a supportive smile.)

Elysia Starbinder: Leire, it’s understandable you feel overwhelmed. This world is vastly different from the structured reality you’re used to. But, remember, even in our whimsical ways, there’s an order, a pattern. The wind, though ever-changing, follows currents; the stars, though scattered, form constellations. Your skills, your ability to find solutions, could be valuable here. It might not be in the form of codes and software, but in understanding and navigating the patterns of our world. Let’s explore this together, step by step. (Elysia’s smile is gentle, her sky-colored eyes reflecting the calm before a dawn.)

Leire: I appreciate your reassurance. I suppose it’s a matter of readjusting my perceptions… finding the logic within the chaos. It’s just… hard. (Leire sighs, her gaze drifting to the flickering shadows cast by the tavern’s hearth.) I don’t even know what questions to ask. How does one even begin to understand a world like this?

Eolan: It’s okay, Leire. It’s natural to feel lost in something so new and different. But remember, every journey starts with a single step. You can start by observing, listening, and asking questions about anything that catches your interest or seems strange. We’ll do our best to explain. And in time, you’ll start to see the patterns, the logic in the chaos. (Eolan’s mossy hair sways gently as he nods, his intense green eyes radiating sincerity and patience.)

Elysia Starbinder: Leire, your confusion is understandable. This world is like a melody, each note a part of the whole. It might seem chaotic at first, like a gust of wind, but if you listen closely, you’ll hear the harmony. Start small, pick a ‘note’ that intrigues you, and we’ll try to make sense of it together. Just ask, and we’ll guide you through. (Elysia’s voice is soft, like a breeze, her sky-colored eyes reflecting the resilience of the morning sky.)

Leire: This… this melody you speak of, Elysia… (Leire’s gaze shifts to Elysia, her hands momentarily still.) I suppose I’m intrigued by the spirits you mentioned earlier. How do they interact within your world? How do you perceive them? And… do they have any… control over your fate, like my goddess Arachne? (Despite the uncertainty in her voice, there’s a spark of curiosity in Leire’s eyes, a small step towards understanding the alien world she’s found herself in.)

Elysia Starbinder: Ah, the spirits, they are as integral to our world as the wind to the sky, Leire. They exist alongside us, unseen yet ever-present, like a gentle breeze or a tempestuous gale. As a Wind Whisperer, I can perceive them, communicate with them. But they don’t control our fate. They are more like… companions on our journey, offering guidance, not dictating our path. As for your goddess Arachne, I believe no entity, divine or otherwise, can truly control our destiny. We shape our own lives through our choices and actions. (Elysia’s eyes, the color of the clear sky, hold a steadfast gaze, reflecting her firm belief in individual agency and free will.)

Eolan: Elysia speaks truly, Leire. Spirits in our world are guides, not puppeteers. They interact with us, but do not control us. As a Silvari, my connection is more with the living plants and trees. They whisper their secrets, share their knowledge. As for destiny, I believe it’s a path we carve ourselves, not a script written by others. My people, we trust in the harmony of nature and the strength within ourselves. Your goddess Arachne… I’m not familiar with her, but I’d be interested to learn more if you’re willing to share. (Eolan’s mossy hair ripples as he nods, his intense green eyes reflecting the calm of a forest glade.)

Leire: Arachne… she’s a goddess from my world. I believe she controls the threads of fate, manipulating the world as she pleases. But it’s not… it’s not like she’s a puppeteer. She’s more like… an artist weaving a grand tapestry. We are part of her design, but we also contribute to it with our actions, our decisions. I guess it’s… similar to what you’re saying about your spirits and nature. But it’s still… different. (Leire’s eyes flicker with a mix of confusion and realization, her fingers subconsciously tracing an imaginary web in the air.)

Elysia Starbinder: Your goddess Arachne sounds fascinating, Leire. And yes, it does resonate with our understanding of spirits and nature. The way you describe her work… it’s like the wind shaping the sand dunes, isn’t it? Every gust, every grain plays a part, yet the final form is a collaborative creation. It’s not puppetry, but a dance of co-creation. Our worlds may be different, but it seems there are threads of commonality. (Elysia’s face lights up, her sky-colored eyes reflecting the dawn’s promise of a new understanding.)

Leire: I suppose you’re right, Elysia. It is… somewhat like the wind shaping the sand dunes. Arachne’s influence, our influence… they intertwine to create the tapestry of existence. It’s strange… I was terrified when I arrived in this world, but now… there’s a certain comfort in finding commonalities, even if they are subtle… and a bit abstract. (Leire’s lips quirk into a small, tentative smile, a flicker of resilience glowing in her eyes.)

Eolan: Finding common ground amidst the unknown… that’s a powerful step, Leire. You’re more adaptable than you think. Even in my own journeys, I’ve found that understanding different perspectives, different ways of life, can be the bridge that connects us all. Whether it’s your goddess Arachne weaving the tapestry of existence, or the spirits and nature guiding us in our world, the core thread that binds us is the belief in something greater, something beyond ourselves. And in that belief, you’ll find the strength to navigate this world. (Eolan’s green eyes glow softly in the dim light, radiating reassurance and camaraderie.)

Leire: I… I appreciate that, Eolan. I’m beginning to see that… despite the differences, there’s a shared… essence, I suppose, that connects our worlds. It’s… comforting, in a way, to know that the concept of something beyond ourselves, something greater, is not exclusive to my world. It makes this… alien world seem a bit less daunting. And… well, I guess it’s a start in trying to understand. (Leire’s voice holds a hint of newfound determination, a small but significant step towards acceptance of her strange situation.)

Elysia Starbinder: Indeed, Leire. Understanding comes in whispers, not in a sudden gust. You’re on the right path. Remember, you’re not alone in this journey. We’ll navigate the winds of this world together, learning from one another. Your curiosity, your willingness to listen… it’s a refreshing breeze that encourages growth and connection. (Elysia’s voice carries the warmth of a comforting wind, her sky-colored eyes twinkling with shared determination and newfound camaraderie.)

Eolan: Elysia is right, Leire. Your curiosity and openness to understand are the first steps toward adapting to this new world. Remember, every forest begins with a single seed. Your journey may seem daunting now, but with time, patience, and determination, you will grow to understand our world, just as we hope to learn from you about yours. (Eolan’s intense green eyes glow with reassurance, his voice carrying the calm and steadiness of a deeply rooted tree.)

Conclusions I took from this test:

  • Damn, these characters can talk up a storm.
  • This Elysia girl loves making wind-related puns.
  • I should increase the number of latest dialogue lines sent to GPT-4 from 10 to at least 20, because the two fantasy people asked about Arachne twice; the previous answer they got fell out of their context window (GPT-4 is unaware of anything beyond its training if it isn’t present in the prompt.)

I enjoy this shit so much that I changed the whole setting and launched another dialogue. In this case, Leire has become depressed due to her situation. Piss-drunk, she’s wandering around a fantasy town when she stumbles into the pair of kind fantasy people, who are planning a hunt.

Second dialogue

Elysia Starbinder: (looking at Leire, her sky-colored eyes full of concern) You seem unsettled, stranger. The winds whisper of your despair. Can we help you find your footing in this world?

Leire: (slurring her words, glaring at Elysia) ‘elp? Nah! I don’t need ‘elp from humans! I just need more… more… (trails off, looking dazed) Arachne, where the hell am I?

Eolan: (softens his gaze, looking at Leire with concern) You’re not alone in this strange world, friend. Sometimes, the forest of life seems dark and endless, but remember, even the smallest light can guide us. Perhaps we can help you find your way.

Leire: (chuckles bitterly, swaying slightly) Light? You think I need light? Nah… I’ve been in the dark all my life, mate. I’m used to it. (pauses, squinting at Eolan) And you… You’re not human, are you? Even better!

Elysia Starbinder: (laughs softly, a gentle breeze swirling around her) You’re right. I’m not human. I’m a Sylph, a child of the wind. And from one outsider to another, I understand the darkness you speak of. But remember, the dawn always follows the night. Let us help you navigate this unfamiliar territory.

Leire: (snorts, swaying dangerously) A Sylph, huh? (laughs, the sound harsh and grating) Well, at least you’re not a damn bunny. (pauses, her gaze distant) Dawn… Dawn is just another chance to mess up, mate. But sure… lead the way, wind child. Can’t get any worse than this, can it?

Elysia Starbinder: (smiles gently, the breeze intensifying around her, carrying a sense of solace) It’s all about perspective, isn’t it? Dawn can be a fresh start, a chance to do better. And as for where we’re leading you… (gives a mischievous grin) Well, with the wind as our guide, who knows where we’ll end up? But I can promise you this, Leire; it won’t be boring.

Leire: (snorts, rolling her eyes) A fresh start, huh? Haven’t heard that one before. (pauses, looking at Elysia with a mix of curiosity and skepticism) But hey, as long as there’s booze, I’m in. Just… no bunnies, alright?

Eolan: (laughs warmly, his moss-like hair rustling in the breeze) Don’t worry, Leire. No bunnies, I promise. But, consider this: while the forest may hold its shadows, it also nurtures the most beautiful blooms. Perhaps in this new dawn, you might find something unexpected, something that makes the journey worthwhile. Now, shall we find that drink you mentioned?

Leire: (laughs sarcastically, then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand) Unexpected blooms in the forest of life, huh? This ain’t some poetic fairytale, buddy. But yeah, let’s find that drink. And remember, no bunnies… or I’ll freak out.

Elysia Starbinder: (chuckles, a playful breeze stirring her white hair) No bunnies, got it. Let’s head for a place I know. They serve a mean elderberry brew. And who knows, Leire, this ‘poetic fairytale’ might surprise you yet. After all, every story needs its heroine. (gives Leire a meaningful look, then starts walking, the wind spirits swirling around her in anticipation)

Eolan: (smiling warmly, his green eyes shimmering gently in the fading light) Indeed, every path we tread, every new dawn we greet, is a chapter of our own story. Perhaps this elderberry brew will mark the beginning of an interesting tale for you, Leire. Lead on, Elysia. Let’s find that drink and see what unforeseen blooms this night might nurture.

Elysia Starbinder: (with a twinkle in her sky-colored eyes, leading the way) Just remember, Leire, it’s not the destination but the journey that matters. And every journey, no matter how chaotic, has its own beauty. Now, let’s find that elderberry brew and see what the winds of fate have in store for us.

Leire: (snorting dismissively, stumbling after them) Beauty, huh? Guess you’ve never seen the inside of a codebase. But yeah, let’s see what this ‘elderberry brew’ is all about. And remember… no bunnies.

Eolan: (laughs, his moss-like hair rustling with amusement) Codebase? Sounds like a different kind of forest indeed. Don’t worry, Leire, we’ll steer clear of bunnies and stick to the elderberries. And who knows? Maybe amidst the chaos of this world, you’ll find your own kind of beauty.

Elysia Starbinder: (laughs softly, a playful breeze lifting her dawn-lit hair) Codebases and elderberries, darkness and dawn, beauty in chaos… Sounds like the beginnings of a grand adventure, Leire. And remember, in this world, even a stumble can be the start of a dance. Now, let’s find that brew and see what tales the wind whispers to us tonight.

Leire: (hiccups, squinting at Elysia) Dance, huh? The only dance I know is the one with the keyboard. But yeah… let’s find that brew. And who knows? Maybe I’ll find my kind of beauty in a pint of elderberry. (smirks, then staggers after them, mumbling) Arachne, if you’re listening, no bunnies… or anthropomorphic horses.

Elysia Starbinder: (chuckles, the wind spirits swirling around her in a playful gust) Anthropomorphic horses, huh? Now there’s a dance partner you don’t find every day! But don’t worry, Leire, our path leads to elderberries, not equines. And remember, every key on your keyboard can play a note in the melody of life. Now, shall we proceed to the rhythm of the wind?

Eolan: (laughs lightly, his emerald eyes twinkling with amusement) Indeed, Elysia. Our melody tonight will be one of elderberries, not equines. And Leire, maybe the beauty you seek is not in the pint, but in the stories it unlocks. After all, every key has a tale to tell, and every tale, a key to understanding. Now, let’s find that brew and dance to the rhythm of this night.

Elysia Starbinder: (with a playful gust of wind rustling her white hair) I couldn’t agree more, Eolan. And remember, Leire, each tale within us is a whisper of the wind, waiting to be heard. Now, let’s unlock those stories with some elderberry brew. Who knows, it might just be the key to a dance you never knew you could perform.

Leire: (shaking her head, laughing bitterly) Dance? Tales? You two are something else. But hey, as long as that brew keeps flowing, you can prattle on about keys, tales, and dances all you want. Just… remember the no bunnies rule, alright?

Elysia Starbinder: (laughs, a breeze lifting her white hair as if in agreement) No bunnies, Leire, that’s a promise. And who knows, after a few elderberry brews, you might just find yourself dancing with the tales of the wind. Now, let’s go find that drink, shall we?

Leire: (grumbles, stumbling after them) Dancing with the tales of the wind, huh? Guess anything’s possible with enough booze… Lead the way, wind child.

In this case, the dialogue ended because the OpenAI API refused my last request, as it ballooned past 2048 tokens. I guess I’ll have to reduce the number of dialogue lines included in the prompts.

For the third and final test, I changed the setting to the following: Leire is disturbed and despairing about having been sent to a fantasy world, and after wandering around town for a while, she approaches the couple of fantasy people, intending to rob them of their valuables.

Third dialogue

Elysia Starbinder: (raising her hands in a calming gesture) Easy there, stranger. There’s no need for violence. We can help you, but not if you’re threatening us.

Leire: (her eyes darting nervously, her voice shaking) I… I don’t need your pity! Just give me your money and nobody gets hurt! Arachne protect me…

Elysia Starbinder: (gently, her sky-colored eyes soft) Leire, we’re not your enemies. We don’t carry much coin, but we could help you find work or a place to stay. And if it’s guidance you need, I can offer that too.

Leire: (her voice wavers, but she steadies herself, gripping the weapon tighter) I don’t need your help… I need your money! Don’t make me do this…

Elysia Starbinder: (in a soothing tone, her voice carried by a gentle breeze) Leire, I can see the desperation in your eyes, but this isn’t the way. Let me help you. Put down your weapon and let’s talk about what you really need.

Leire: (her eyes glinting with a mix of desperation and determination) There’s nothing to talk about. Your money or your life… Choose now!

Elysia Starbinder: (Her voice steady, eyes reflecting understanding) Leire, I understand your fear, your desperation. But I truly believe we can find another way, a better way. Let’s make a choice not driven by fear, but by hope. Put down your weapon, and let’s navigate this storm together.

Leire: (her voice breaking, tears welling up in her eyes) I don’t… I don’t have any hope left. But… (she lowers her weapon slightly, the desperation in her eyes giving way to a glimmer of uncertainty) Arachne… guide me…