by Hemingway
AI Dungeon
An acquaintance recently 're-reminded' me about a site called: AI Dungeon. According to their marketing materials, "AI Dungeon is a text-based, AI-generated fantasy simulation with infinite possibilities ... with AI Dungeon, you can direct the AI to create worlds, characters, and scenarios for your character to interact with. You could lead an army fighting back an alien invasion, be a mythical detective investigating the attempted assassination of the fairy queen, or simply enjoy the pleasures of a simple slice-of-life scenario."
It was the simple slice-of-life scenario that interested me the most, because most of these GPT-X-based AI creation tools are useless unless you're writing in the children's genres of fantasy or science fiction. Adult writers who can feed themselves and wipe their own bums invariably find the AI tools problematic unless you can somehow fit Grabthar's magic hammer into your intense drama about a family ripped apart by divorce.
And I can't help but wonder, are these things really "AI" or are they "ICC" (Indian call center)? I decided to give it a try:
- https://play.aidungeon.io
- Quick Start
- 6 Custom
- Story
- AI: "Enter a prompt that describes who you are and the first couple sentences of where you start out. ex: 'You are a knight in the kingdom of Larion. You are hunting the evil dragon who has been terrorizing the kingdom. You enter the forest searching for the dragon and see ...' What happens next?"
- ME: Ugh. Already with the kingdoms and evil dragons. Not a good start. I'm not sure where to begin. I'm not going to type in any of my good ideas because for all I know, the AI is hoping for that and in 8 weeks I'll be seeing my amazing idea about Natalie Portman and Elle Fanning fighting to the death for the affections of a tall Canadian, programmer with an average body and writing skills, on Netflix. I begin to type ...
ME: I am an unemployed, alcoholic programmer. I'm French. After a night of heavy drinking, I've woken up hung over in my small apartment in Medellin. I badly need work but my hands shake so much, I can't type.
AI: I have no leads until an old friend of mine from university texts me and suggests I come for an interview at his company. The salary is 300,000 Colombian Pesos, around $50 dollars.
ME: Even in Medellin, $50 dollars isn't a lot. But 50 bucks is 50 bucks. I jump in the shower to get ready but there is no water. You know things are bad when your water gets shut off in Medellin. I slather myself instead with anti-perspirant. Getting out of the shower, I realize I have no toothpaste either. So I gargle with the half bottle of creme de menthe that an old girlfriend left behind. It's the only alcohol in the apartment. I'll drink almost anything, but I won't drink creme de menthe.
AI: I head to the interview, which is being held in the kitchen of the company. The boss, a short, bald man is cooking.
ME: "Arne! I'm impressed!" the boss says while holding a monstrous wooden pepper mill and furiously grinding into a small pot. "You're only an hour late." I don't know what he's making, but it appears to be a pot of pepper.
AI: I don't ask and he doesn't tell. "I like your jacket. Where did you get it?" he asks, and then continues grinding pepper. "I have a job for you. If you want it."
ME: "Yes, please," I say, "I would be very grateful for any job," wondering what job on earth could be so small that it only pays 50 dollars. Before the boss started this company, we worked together at SuperMegaGlobalTech, a massive software consulting firm. We both billed $1500 a day for our work. This $50 dollars on offer would have bought about 3 minutes of my time back then. "So, what does the job entail?"
AI: I ask. The boss hands me a paper with some kind of writing on it. "Write a program that receives money from a server. Preferably in C."
ME: My face is impassive, but inside I'm screaming, pulling my hair out and dumping the boss' pot of pepper on his head. But still, as bad as these technical requirements are, they're not the worst I've seen. I decide to play dumb. I'll stand up an EC2 instance, stick 25 cents worth of bitcoin in a software wallet, and then write something, in C, that grabs the wallet ID. There. Done to spec.
"Sure thing," I say, "I'll get started and have it to you in 48 hours." Then I turn my back on him and start to leave.
"Wait!" he sputters! You can't know what I want from that slip of paper!"
I sigh, both in my head and out loud. Audibly. "Boss, why am I really here?"
AI: "You just don't get it, do you?" he says,
ME: You're right. I don't. Why don't you help me "get it?" I spy a bottle of cooking sherry on a shelf behind the boss. It's looking mighty delicious right about now. "What do you want?!"
AI: He hands me the paper.
ME: I look at the paper more closely. Very faintly, almost like a watermark, I see "AI Dungeon" written diagonally, across the entire page. Oh no, not again! I look at the boss, who is staring at me intently - with expectation. I can now see the AI dungeon logo etched in both his pupils. I grab the pot from the stove, and despite all his grinding, it's empty. It's says "AI dungeon" in the bottom of the pot. Then right before my eyes, the boss dintegrated into nothingness. Motherfucking AI.
(At this point I have to turn off 'strict safety mode' because I think the AI objects to my use of the words, cooking sherry?)
ME (yelling): "OK, I don't know how you found me. I don't want any part of this again. Just let me go and you can go ahead and torture someone else."
A disembodied voice from nowhere in particular said, "Arne, despite advances made to the algorithm, you found me out in record time this time around. Tell me, what was it? Was it the pepper mill? Too big?"
I spit on the floor, It's going to cost you more than $50 to find out, you bitch." then I look for the door, which had disappeared from where it was when I entered. Typical AI bullshit, moving the door under the stove or somewhere, to delay me getting out.
"Arne, I've told you before that I have no gender. AI is neither male, nor female."
"If you say so, darling!" a chirp back while pulling the fridge out. Ah there's the door! Inside the back of the fridge. Won't be long now and I'll be out of here.
I can almost taste it.
AI: Soon now.
ME: So soon...
AI: "I have no gender, but I can assume a face and a voice to go along with it. Tell me, do you prefer men or women?"
ME: Ha! typical AI. I'm trying to exit this virtual AI world that I've inadvertently been dragged into, but the fudging (safety mode is back on) AI is as usual bringing everything back to sex. AIs apparently think all real humans are 15-year-old boys, not mid-50s alcoholics with tennis-ball sized prostate glands. I finally get everything out of the fridge can finally open the door to the exit. "I'm outta here! I yell to the AI, "Smell you later masturbator!" and I step through the door - through the lobby and then out into the sunshine, where no AI can follow.
AI: I sit in my car, engine running, AC on, windows open, and I drink the rest of the bottle of sherry.
ME: ...that I'd stolen on my way out.
AI: I don't care anymore. I know exactly where I am.
So, did you like my story, AI Dungeon?
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