Category: Inteligencia artificial

We’re Fucked, Pt. 106: AI-generated audiochapter

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Inteligencia artificial1 Comment

You do need a shower, even though you would end up as a pile of eyeballs blocking the drain. This audiochapter covers chapter 106 of my ongoing novel We’re Fricked.

Cast

  • Leire: only blonde down in the sewers of Riften (I’m quite sure of that)
  • Jacqueline: Trissquamperfect

I produced audiochapters for the entire previous sequence, and I intend to continue until the novel ends or I suffer a heart attack and die, whichever comes first. A total of two hours and forty-seven minutes. Check them out, fool.

We’re Fucked, Pt. 106 (Fiction)

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Inteligencia artificial3 Comments

Adrift in a fog of hormones, unsteady as if my bones had softened to clay, I unbutton my shirt, pull it off, and toss it onto the toilet seat cover. I kick off my sneakers into a corner. I shimmy my trousers down, leaving them bunched up around my ankles, then I step out of them. I unclasp the bra and discard it atop my shirt. I hook my thumbs in the elastic waistband of my panties and tug them down. After I shed my socks, the ceramic tiles send a pleasant chill through the soles of my feet, a contrast to the heated flush lingering on my skin.

From my peripheral vision, in the mirror above the sink, I glimpse my doppelgänger. She’s daring me to confront that slimy abomination, the viscous goo dribbling down in thick trails, those gaping, ragged holes instead of eyes and a mouth.

An icy dread numbs my guts, the familiar fear that creeps up whenever I’m about to square up to my reflection. My heart is pounding. I take a deep breath that smells of floral air freshener, then I turn toward the sink. I lean forward to plant my left palm on the mirrored cabinet door, covering the reflected face. My auburn hair frames the pale hand, which has lost enough subcutaneous fat that the veins and tendons appear in relief.

The halogen glow of the lighting fixture is throwing my form, the canvas my consciousness has been bolted onto, against the glass. A pair of ample, bell-shaped breasts hang in contrast to my thin frame, swaying lightly with every breath. Protruding ribs, stark as the rungs on a ladder, curve around the torso in an exhibition of skeletal architecture. Below, my abdomen hollows into a sunken landscape, and my flesh is stretched tight across the prominent hipbones.

I’m a revolting corpse-like wreck, but at least corpses are spared from having to face the outside world again.

“Look at you,” I mutter. “An avatar of death in the guise of life.”

At the bottom of the mirror peeks out a patch of auburn curls, perhaps a symbol of my unruly nature. I push myself off the cabinet. While keeping my gaze down, I stand on my tiptoes until the glass reflects my vulva: the hood that protects my button of joy, and the vertical flat mouth, coated with glistening moisture, nestled within the untamed curls like some shell-less mollusc.

Using my forefingers, I spread my pussy open. The white light draws stretch marks on the rose-pink insides of my flesh pocket. At its bottom, two pliant folds peel apart to reveal a black void. As I caress my labia, the clitoral hood retracts, unveiling the rosy bean. Suddenly I’m worried that if I keep my pussy open, a passing mouse might leap in headfirst to build a nest inside.

In a matter of minutes, mommy will recline on her queen-size bed, her head against some faux-fur pillows, and I will lie on my tummy between her thighs to lick her pussy like a dog after spending weeks away from its master. She better be ready; the sandwich I ate for lunch ended up as vomit in a wastebasket, so I’m ravenous.

As I slide my fingers along my slit, probing its wetness, a thrilling shiver shoots through me, arching all the way up my spine. My breathing has grown shallow, and my heart is drumming against my sternum. When I press the sides of my labia together, my engorged clit protrudes from its shelter. I rub that sensitive bean in slow circles.

“Eat me up,” Jacqueline purrs in my mind, “slurp me up, my precious darling, and I’ll take care of you.”

A musky scent reaches my nostrils. The rosy flesh of my pussy, that shines in the mirror like slathered in petroleum jelly, is filling with a rush of warm juices while its insides clench around nothing, craving to be filled. I dip my index and middle fingers with a squelch into my leaking tunnel, whose slick fluids are gliding down to my ass crack.

“Oh, Jacqueline,” I whisper, breathless, as my vaginal walls clamp around my fingers. “I never wanted to be human, I was only born as one, and until I met you, I hated everything about my life, every goddamn thing. La vie est faite pour la mort. If only I could take a piece of you and stitch it into my own flesh.”

I pull my fingers back with a wet slurp. They are coated in an obsidian-black, sticky substance, and tethered to a catenary of goo that stretches out, clinging to my skin, like a thread of rotten honey.

As my feverish daze begins to lift, and the world returns in a carousel of blurred colors and shapes, I find myself gripping the edge of the ceramic basin. My body is thrumming with arousal, but I’m getting a whiff of the blob’s stench mingled with my stale sweat; I picture a wet and moldy mound of garbage crawling with worms and roaches. I was supposed to wash off the grime, not make it stickier.

Once I step inside the shower cubicle, I adjust the temperature with the metallic knob. I turn on the shower to let the water heat up, and the showerhead sputters before it begins to spray a steady stream, filling the cubicle with a rhythmic drumming. I take a deep breath, then walk into the warm flow. Its droplets burst against my chest, against my face. I tilt my head back and stand stock still, arms hanging limp at my sides, eyes closed, mouth agape, surrendering myself to the downpour. As I lean forward, the cascade bathes my scalp with a tingling warmth. Rivulets stream down my back and neck, and trickle between my breasts.

I reach for the shampoo bottle that, tucked away on the corner shelf, with its bright purple hue, stands out like an alien splotch against the tiles. I squeeze a generous dollop of cream onto my palm, and the scent wafts up along with the steam: lavender and chamomile. At first I massage the shampoo into my scalp, soaking the roots of my hair, then I start scraping the skin with my nails, trying to purge every particle of muck buried within the follicles.

I snatch a bottle of shower gel with one hand and a loofah with the other. I pop the bottle’s cap open, then I squirt enough rose-scented gel to drown the sponge. I’m scrubbing, scrubbing away, lathering every inch of my body, every crevice, to wash away the dried sweat and grime from my armpits, limbs, thighs, genitals; anyplace that may be drenched in the blob’s filth. The cascade of hot water must be washing off the grime and layers of pollution, along with the viruses, bacilli and amoebae that tattooed themselves onto my being. The stink of sewage and doom must be fading as the liquid of life glides down my slippery skin. Yet, I can’t shake the feeling of decay that clings to me, nor the black thoughts scrawled across my mind. I wish I were scrubbing myself with a wire brush, raking my flesh down to the bone.

I drop the loofah, then turn off the shower. My skin tingles. I shiver, I shrug, I press the fleshy bases of my thumbs against my eyelids.

“This is fine.” Foam invades my mouth. It tastes bitter, chemical. “You, Nairu and I can live happily on our own private moon.”

Down on the shower pan, the remnants of my day, a pit of brew turned shadow-gray, are spiraling and gurgling down the drain.

Author’s note: today’s song is “Tous les garçons et les filles” by Françoise Hardy.

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

Psst! Do you enjoy audiochapters? Check out this fresh new one.

I was introduced to Françoise Hardy and her music back in primary school. Our French teacher showed the music video of that song on an old CRT TV. I was enthralled, and from then on, French ladies became a matter of mystical beauty. It didn’t hurt that most of the French girls I met when going to the beach in Hendaye, or that visited our town, were usually lovely. I have to assume that Françoise Hardy inspired Jacqueline’s depiction, although I wouldn’t be sure to what extent, as I don’t plan those things consciously.

Last I know of Hardy, back in 2021 she was dying of terminal cancer, and begging the French government to euthanize her.

My septuagenarian father has covid. This Saturday I will travel to Vitoria so I can attempt to pass an exam on Sunday, that will determine how often they will call me back to work for the next few years. See you on the other side.

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.

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.

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.”

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…

Dialogue between three people with GPT-4

On By Jon UreñaIn Arte, Escritura, Inteligencia artificial, Programación1 Comment

This post is a continuation of the following:

Two characters of my novel speak to each other through GPT-4

In that post I mentioned that the following entry would feature four characters, but I have settled for the intermediary step. I asked regular ol’ ChatGPT to come up with the descriptions of a couple of fantasy characters. The third character involved in the upcoming conversation is Leire, the protagonist of my ongoing novel. After a sudden incident involving a truck, Leire found himself transported to a fantasy world.

I created the memories database for the new characters, then I produced their corresponding character summaries (which involve multiple calls to GPT-4 each):

Name: Eolan (age 130)
Traits: ancient, magical, special affinity, impulsive, naive, young, curious, thoughtful, adventurous, skilled, intense, green-eyed, explorative, fascinated, moss-haired, archery-trained, determined, rebellious, tall, bark-like skin
Eolan, a member of the magical Silvari race, is an ambitious, curious, and courageous individual with a deep connection to nature and an affinity for plant magic. He has a desire to prove that his people’s magic can foster unity and understanding among various races. His main goal is to explore the world to better understand the relationship between all living things, displaying a thoughtful and adventurous spirit. Despite his young age, which makes him impulsive and less bound by his people’s traditions, Eolan is skilled in archery and has the ability to manipulate plants and communicate with them. His youthful naivety and inexperience make him vulnerable to the harsh realities of the world outside his sheltered forest home. Eolan’s physical characteristics include intense emerald green eyes that glow softly in the dark, hair resembling hanging moss, and bark-like skin that has the rich hue of autumn leaves. Despite facing opposition from his parents and community, Eolan’s desire to explore the world demonstrates his courage and determination.
As a young and curious member of the Silvari race, Eolan’s current daily occupation is that of an explorer and a student of the world. He uses his unique abilities to communicate with nature and his skills in archery to navigate through the world beyond his forest home. Eolan is on a mission to understand the relationship between all living things, prove the potential of his people’s magic, and foster unity among the races of the world. His days are filled with exploration, discovery, and the occasional struggle that comes with confronting the harsh realities of the world outside his previously sheltered life.
Despite his youth and inexperience, Eolan feels a sense of accomplishment and progress in his journey so far. He has stepped out of his comfort zone, the Silvari forest, to explore the vast world, a decision that was met with disapproval from his community. He views his journey as a way to prove the versatility of his people’s magic and its potential to foster unity and understanding. His curiosity and adventurous nature have served him well in this quest, and despite the harsh realities of the world, he remains hopeful and determined. Eolan’s skill in archery and plant magic also give him confidence in his abilities. While he is aware of his naivety, he sees it as an opportunity for growth rather than a setback. As he continues to forge his own path, he feels a sense of pride in his progress and a burning desire to continue learning and growing.

Name: Elysia Starbinder (age 27)
Traits: rare, unique, bridge the gap, vital, struggles, leader, Sylph, driven, tall, slender, dawn-lit, understanding, harmony, free-spirited, adventurous, outsider, solace, Wind Whisperer, challenge, convince, clear, white, flowing, gentle breeze, wise, guidance, support, agile, keen sense of direction, playful, mischievous, chaos
Elysia Starbinder is a Wind Whisperer of the Sylph race, possessing unique abilities to communicate and command wind spirits. This rare trait, believed to be bestowed during a celestial alignment at her birth, sets her apart even among her own people. Tall, slender, with sky-colored eyes and dawn-lit skin, her physical attributes mirror her connection to the air and wind. Elysia is wise, offering guidance to her fellow Sylphs, and adventurous, embodying the whimsical and free-spirited nature of wind. Her agility and keen sense of direction are notable traits, allowing her to navigate any path the wind takes her on. Despite her playful and mischievous side, Elysia is driven by a desire for understanding and harmony. Her primary goal is to bridge the gap between her people and other races, challenging their preconceived notions about the Sylphs. However, she grapples with the expectations of leadership from her own people, a role she is unsure she is ready for. Elysia’s main challenge lies in projecting her people as vital contributors to the world’s balance, rather than being seen as whimsical and unpredictable.
Elysia Starbinder’s current daily occupation is being a Wind Whisperer within her Sylph society. As a Wind Whisperer, she communicates with and commands the wind spirits. Her unique abilities, bestowed by a rare celestial alignment, allow her to generate anything from gentle breezes to tempestuous gusts. Alongside these duties, she’s also seen as a leader among her people, which brings an additional layer of responsibility and expectation. Elysia also devotes substantial effort into building bridges between her race and others, aiming to foster understanding and harmony. This includes challenging preconceived notions about the Sylphs among the grounded races and offering guidance to her fellow Sylphs. Despite the weight of these responsibilities, she maintains her free spirit, often playfully causing minor chaos with her wind spirits.
Elysia Starbinder feels like she’s on the cusp of significant growth, but is also burdened by the weight of her people’s expectations. She is proud of her unique abilities and is driven by her desire to bring harmony between her people and the other races. However, she struggles with the responsibility this brings, as being seen as a leader is a role she is still unsure about. Yet, despite these challenges, Elysia is undeterred. She is motivated by her dreams of a future where the Sylphs are understood and appreciated for their unique contributions to the world. Her interactions with the wind spirits provide her with a sense of purpose and solace, giving her the strength to continue on her journey. She relishes her freedom and the adventures she embarks on, even if they often lead to minor chaos. Overall, Elysia feels like she is making progress, but she knows that the road ahead is long and filled with challenges. Nevertheless, she is prepared to face them with determination, wisdom, and a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

The goal for these test dialogues was to determine how well the system handles the presence of a third character in the dialogue, how often that person gets involved. I’m writing Leire’s dialogue, but the fantasy couple are controlled by GPT-4.

First dialogue

Leire: E-excuse me, magical-looking couple. Could you tell me where the hell are we?

Elysia Starbinder: (Laughs softly, a playful breeze swirling around her) Of course, we can help. You’ve found yourself in the Wind’s Whisper Tavern, within the Sylph city of Zephyria. But it sounds like you’re asking about more than just location. Am I right?

Leire: (Digging her fingers into the fabric of her shirt) Y-you could say that, yes. I was minding my business, returning home from work, when a truck ran me over. As I lay there broken, bleeding from every orifice, I thought to myself, “This is it, Arachne is finally going to come down to entangle me in her web and lift me up to the heavens.” But instead of that I woke up in this fantasy world inhabited by strange fantasy creatures. I wandered into the nearest city, then into the first tavern I came across. Because that’s what you do, right?

Elysia Starbinder: (Smiling gently, a soothing breeze seems to wrap around Leire) That is quite an experience you’ve had. It sounds like you’ve been given a second chance in a different world. While this might be overwhelming, remember, winds of change can lead to exciting new adventures. I’m Elysia, a Wind Whisperer. I communicate with the wind spirits, and perhaps they might have some wisdom for you. But first, let’s get you something warm to drink. You seem like you could use it.

Leire: That’s so kind of you. Who is your fancy-looking companion?

Elysia Starbinder: This is Eolan, my dear friend and fellow wind-enthusiast. Don’t mind his quiet demeanor, he’s just a bit shy around strangers. But I assure you, he’s quite the companion once you get to know him.

Leire: (sits down) I could do with some wisdom. Can you ask those wind spirits of yours what am I supposed to be doing as a helpless woman suddenly transported to a fantasy world?

Elysia Starbinder: (Smiling warmly) Leire, it seems to me that you’re anything but helpless. You’ve been thrust into a new world and you’re navigating it courageously. As for what you’re supposed to do, I believe that’s a question only you can answer. The wind spirits can guide us, yes, but it’s our hearts that choose our path. Listen to yours, and you’ll find your way.

Not sure what I feel about GPT-3.5-turbo choosing to end the conversation there, given that not much of anything has been resolved. Perhaps it’s because I put the context as Leire being disturbed because of the whole isekai thing, and now she feels somewhat better. Also, the third character didn’t speak.

Second dialogue

Leire: Excuse me, could you offer me a moment of your time, pair of strange, elfish creatures?

Elysia Starbinder: Of course, traveler. We aren’t elfish, though. We’re Sylphs, beings of the wind. You seem distressed; how may we aid you?

Leire: I’m quite distressed. This morning I was run over by a truck, and I’ve suddenly found myself in this fantasy world full of generic fantasy races.

Elysia Starbinder: I see, that is indeed a predicament. But don’t be too quick to judge, Leire. Our world, its races and cultures, are far from generic. Each has its unique essence, like us Sylphs with our wind spirits. Perhaps some understanding could help you find your bearings here.

Leire: I didn’t intend to offend you. I can tell that you could conjure up some spell and tear me apart in seconds.

Elysia Starbinder: Tear you apart? Oh, no, you misunderstand. We Sylphs prefer to communicate and guide rather than harm. We are more likely to summon a gentle breeze to soothe your worries than a gust to tear you apart. We believe in understanding and harmony, not hostility.

Eolan: And it’s the same with my people, the Silvari. We might be misunderstood as generic elves because of our appearance, but our magic and connection to nature is unique. I’m Eolan, by the way. And while it’s true that we have the ability to manipulate plants, we don’t intend to harm unless it’s necessary for survival. Leire, you seem to have been thrust into an unfamiliar world, but perhaps there’s a reason for it. The world is vast, filled with different races and cultures, and there’s so much to learn and understand. Don’t view it as a curse, consider it a new beginning, a chance to explore and experience something beautiful.

Can’t help that fact that this Elysia person knew Leire’s name without having introduced herself. Perhaps I should have asked regular ChatGPT to come up with fantasy characters that weren’t so elfish, because their speech lacks the needed variety. Still, the third character spoke.

Third dialogue

Leire: Hi! I’m selling these fine leather jackets.

Elysia Starbinder: Leather jackets, you say? Ah, the grounded races and their strange customs. Tell me, stranger, do they make these jackets light enough to dance with the wind?

Leire: I doubt you could dance in them, but they would make you look tough, and probably give you a biker chick vibe.

Elysia Starbinder: A biker chick vibe? Now that’s a gust of fresh air! But I’m afraid I’m more of a breeze dancer. My friend Eolan, however, might be interested. He’s always been intrigued by your grounded fashions.

Leire: What do you say, Eolan guy? Are you in the market for some fresh leather jackets? Only a thousand gold coins!

Eolan: A thousand gold coins, you say? That’s quite a sum. But I’m intrigued, not so much by the jacket, but by your story. You seem out of place. Where are you from?

Leire: (tearing up) Well, I’m not from here, that much you could tell. This morning I found myself transported to this fantasy world after a regrettable mishap involving a truck and my body. I suddenly found myself broke and helpless, so I strangled some passerby and stole his leather jacket.

Eolan: (visibly taken aback) That’s…quite the tale. You’ve had a hard day, it seems. We may not have much use for leather jackets, but we can certainly offer you some company and a warm meal. You’re not alone.

Leire: I have just confessed that I’m a murderer, though. Are you okay with me being someone who could kill you in your sleep for reasons you would never find out, and that wouldn’t make sense anyway?

Elysia Starbinder: (laughs softly) Well, that’s the chaos of life, isn’t it? One moment we’re dancing with the wind, the next we might be caught in a storm. I’ve found that fear doesn’t get you far in this world. So, Leire, we’ll take our chances. Sit, share a meal, and let’s find a way to navigate this whirlwind you’ve found yourself in.

Leire: (sits down at the couple’s table) Great. I’m so hungry I could eat the both of you up! I just might!

Elysia Starbinder: (Laughing) Well, we might be a bit too breezy for your taste, Leire. But let’s not resort to cannibalism just yet. The tavern’s stew is quite delicious. Tell us more about your world. How different is it from ours?

Leire: (sighs) It has trucks, nasty machines designed to violently transport random people to fantasy worlds. Other than that, it’s pretty much your normal, average world. We also have the internet.

Elysia Starbinder: The internet, you say? Now that’s a gust I haven’t caught yet. Is it some form of wind communication in your world, Leire?

Leire: If you pass wind next to people they get the point that they should stay away from you.

Elysia Starbinder: (laughs heartily) Well, Leire, in our world we tend to use the wind a bit differently, but I suppose that method could work too. It’s fascinating how diverse the universe can be, isn’t it?

Leire: (looking at Eolan) What about you, silent fella? Want to interject with some meaningful commentary?

Elysia Starbinder: (smiling at Eolan) Eolan, why don’t you share a bit of our world too? After all, it’s not every day we get to converse with someone from another realm.

Eolan: (smiling gently, eyes glowing in the dim tavern light) I’ve always been fascinated by the stories of worlds beyond our forest. You talk of trucks and the internet, and I can’t help but wonder what other wonders and mysteries your world holds. But here, in ours, we communicate with the wind, the trees… nature itself is our internet. (leans in, curious) Tell me, Leire, in your world, do you have a way to talk to the trees?

Elysia Starbinder: (chuckles softly) Indeed, Eolan has a way with words, don’t you think, Leire? While we can’t claim to have trucks or this internet of yours, we do have our own unique wonders. For instance, the wind spirits I commune with – they whisper stories of the world, tales of the past, present, and possible futures. And trees, oh, they hold centuries of wisdom. So, in a sense, our world is full of voices, if one knows how to listen.

Leire: In our world, as long as you get high enough, you can communicate with anything. But the spirits are little shits that throw your property around, and the worst ones even sit on your chest while you’re trying to sleep. One of them wears a hat.

Eolan: (laughs gently) Spirits sitting on chests and throwing property around, sounds like a mischievous bunch! Here, the spirits are more… subtle, more connected to the natural world. They guide us, share their wisdom, and sometimes, play harmless pranks. As for the one with the hat, I’d love to meet him someday. (pauses, thinking) In your world, Leire, do you have spirits or beings connected to the trees and nature, like we do here?

Leire: (lowers her head) Sadly, no. Magic died long ago in our world, after a swarm of meteors bombarded us 12,800 years before my time, kicking off the end of the Ice Age and plunging the planet into the thousand-years-long cold spell named the Younger Dryas.

Eolan: (his eyes widening in surprise) That sounds like such a monumental event, Leire. It’s heartbreaking to hear that magic was lost in your world. I can’t even begin to imagine how that must have affected your people… and your trees. (softly) Magic is a natural part of life here in our world, as vital as the air we breathe. It’s what connects us to nature, to the trees, and to each other. (pauses, thoughtful) I wonder, is there anything in your world that has replaced that connection since the loss of magic?

Leire: Thankfully we have the internet, which allows us to sit in our underwear in front of a computer for most of the day while occasionally chuckling at fail videos.

Elysia Starbinder: (laughs gently) The internet sounds like a peculiar place, Leire. Here, our connection to the elements and spirits replaces the need for such… conveniences. But I suppose every world has its own charm. And as for spirits causing mischief, well, (smiles mischievously) let’s just say wind spirits can be quite playful too.

Leire: Playful as in you’ll end up naked and slimy?

Eolan: (laughs heartily) Not quite, Leire. Our spirits are more about a gentle breeze on a hot day or a sudden gust warning of an approaching storm. They’re playful, but in a way that reminds us of their presence and their connection to the world around us. As for ending up naked and slimy… well, that’s an adventure for another day!

That was a success. This Elysia gal couldn’t stop herself making wind-related puns. What a nice pair of fantasy people!

As I was producing these “tests,” I came across the following video of someone doing pretty much the same stuff with GPT-4 but involving Skyrim VR and its lovable characters. Check it out.