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Can you beat the new Bing AI?

Devor

Fiery Keeper of the Hat
Moderator
I got through the waitlist for trying out the new ChatGPT-enabled Bing. Just.... wow. It pretty much generates a blog post on the spot for any question you ask. I've asked it a bunch of things now and haven't noticed any mistakes, although, while answers are thorough, they can sometimes be pretty basic.

It does more than that though. Here's what it gave me when I typed "Generate an idea for a swords and sorcery fantasy novel."

The Blade and the Flame

In a world where magic is a rare and dangerous gift, a young swordswoman named Kira is hired by a mysterious sorcerer named Zane to protect him from his enemies. Kira is a skilled and fearless fighter, but she has a secret: she is also a mage, hiding her power from the world. Zane is a powerful and mysterious sorcerer, but he has a secret: he is also a prince, fleeing from his tyrannical brother who wants to kill him and take his throne.

Together, they embark on a perilous journey across the lands, facing deadly foes, ancient secrets, and forbidden attractions. Along the way, they discover that they are part of a prophecy that could change the fate of the world, or destroy it.

The Blade and the Flame is a swords and sorcery fantasy novel that explores themes of adventure, romance, loyalty, and destiny. It is a story of a swordswoman and a sorcerer who must overcome their differences and work together to survive and fulfill their destiny.


What do you guys think? Would that make a good novel? Our human ideas are better than that.... uhh, right?

Do you have any prompts you'd like me to ask it?
 
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Devor

Fiery Keeper of the Hat
Moderator
Well, it works as a prompt, but I wouldn't want to read an entire book formulated like that.

Well, let's give that a shot.

Chapter One: The Quest

Lila had always dreamed of seeing the world beyond her village. She had grown up listening to stories of brave heroes, ancient magic, and hidden wonders. She had learned to read and write from the old books in the library, and to play the flute from the traveling minstrels. She had a curious and adventurous spirit, and a kind and generous heart.

But she also had a duty. She was the only daughter of the village healer, and she had inherited his gift of healing. She could sense the pain and sickness of others, and use her touch and herbs to ease their suffering. She loved her father and her people, and she was proud of her role. She knew she was needed and respected.

But she also felt restless and bored. She longed to see the places and creatures she had read about, to learn new things and meet new people, to have some excitement and danger in her life. She often wondered what it would be like to go on a quest, to have a noble and important mission, to be part of a great story.

She got her chance on a cold winter morning, when a stranger came to the village. He was a tall and handsome man, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He wore a cloak of fine wool and a sword at his side. He rode a black horse with a silver mane and tail. He looked like a prince or a knight from a fairy tale.

He introduced himself as Sir Leon, a messenger from the king. He said he had come to deliver an urgent message to the village healer. He asked for directions to his house, and Lila offered to guide him. She was curious about him and his message, and she hoped to talk to him more.

She led him to her father's house, a small and cozy cottage near the edge of the village. She knocked on the door and called out, "Father, I'm home. I brought a guest."

Her father opened the door and smiled. He was a middle-aged man, with brown hair and green eyes. He wore a simple tunic and trousers, and an apron stained with herbs and blood. He looked tired and weary, but also warm and gentle.

"Hello, my dear. Who is this?" he asked, looking at the stranger.

"This is Sir Leon, a messenger from the king. He said he has an urgent message for you," Lila said.

"From the king? How strange. Come in, come in. I'll make some tea," her father said, inviting them inside.

They entered the cottage and sat down at a wooden table. Her father poured some hot water into a pot and added some dried leaves. He handed a cup to Sir Leon and said, "What is this message, sir? I'm afraid I don't have much to do with the king or his affairs."

Sir Leon took a sip of the tea and cleared his throat. He looked at Lila and her father with a serious and solemn expression.

"I'm sorry to bring you such bad news, but the king is dying. He has been ill for a long time, and the doctors say he has only a few days left. He has no heir, and the kingdom is in turmoil. There are many factions and factions who want to claim the throne, and some of them are ready to start a war. The king has one last hope, one last wish. He wants to find the legendary Crystal of Light, a powerful artifact that can heal any wound, cure any disease, and restore any life. He believes that if he can touch the Crystal, he can recover and bring peace to the land. He has sent me to find you, because you are the only one who can help him."

Lila and her father gasped. They had heard of the Crystal of Light, of course. It was one of the most famous and mysterious objects in the world. It was said to be a gift from the gods, a shard of pure light that fell from the sky. It was said to be hidden in a secret place, guarded by ancient magic and fearsome beasts. It was said to be the source of all life and all power. It was said to be a myth.

"Me? How can I help him? I'm just a village healer. I know nothing of the Crystal or where to find it," her father said, shaking his head.

Sir Leon reached into his cloak and pulled out a small leather pouch. He opened it and took out a silver pendant. It was a simple and elegant design, a circle with a star in the center. He


(It stopped here but gave me a generate more button. To me, it's readable, but also kind of... plain.)
 

Ban

Troglodytic Trouvère
Article Team
It's repetitive and fairly plain, sure, but there's nothing in that text that would indicate to me it wasn't written by a human being. The scary thing is that Chat GPT's current abilities are just the beginning of that technology. There's a GPT-4 on the way (might be what Bing's using? Not sure) whose capabilities are even greater. Of course at the end of the day it's all based on the human writing comprising its database, so ultimately anything the "AI" generates is human in origin, but I must admit that Chat GPT, the various art programs and the programs such as Vall-E and xVASynth which can replicate voices are making me more of a luddite than I used to be.
 
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Devor

Fiery Keeper of the Hat
Moderator
One more, for your reading pleasure....

The prompt I gave it: Write a chapter of a grimdark fantasy novel about a peasant who wants to be a wizard in the style of Dickens




Chapter One: The Boy Who Wanted to Be a Wizard

It was a cold and foggy night in the city of Londor, the capital of the kingdom of Albion. The streets were dark and dirty, filled with beggars, thieves, and prostitutes. The air was thick with smoke and stench, and the sound of bells and cries echoed in the distance. The city was ruled by a tyrant king, who oppressed his subjects with high taxes, harsh laws, and brutal soldiers. The people lived in fear and misery, and had no hope for a better future.

In a narrow and filthy alley, near the river Thames, there was a small and shabby house, where a poor and wretched family lived. The father was a drunkard and a gambler, who wasted his meager earnings on ale and cards. The mother was a washerwoman, who worked long hours for a pittance, and often fell ill. The eldest son was a pickpocket, who roamed the streets looking for easy marks. The youngest son was a dreamer, who wanted to be a wizard.

His name was Oliver Twist, and he was ten years old. He had a thin and pale face, with bright blue eyes and curly brown hair. He wore a ragged and patched shirt, trousers, and shoes, and a woolen cap that covered his ears. He had a small and worn book in his pocket, which he had found in a rubbish heap. It was a book of magic, written by a famous wizard named Merlin. It was the only thing he owned, and the only thing he loved.

Oliver had always been fascinated by magic, ever since he was a child. He had heard stories of wizards and witches, who could cast spells, fly on brooms, and talk to animals. He had seen them perform in fairs and markets, dazzling the crowds with their tricks and illusions. He had envied them their power and freedom, and wished he could be like them. He had studied the book of magic, trying to learn its secrets and mysteries. He had practiced the words and gestures, hoping to make something happen. But nothing ever did. He had no talent, no gift, no magic.

He knew he was a fool, a dreamer, a nobody. He knew he had no chance of becoming a wizard, or anything else. He knew he was doomed to a life of poverty, hardship, and sorrow. He knew he was nothing, and would always be nothing.

But he still hoped, he still wished, he still dreamed.

He dreamed of leaving his miserable home, and going to the great Academy of Magic, where the best and brightest wizards were trained. He dreamed of meeting Merlin, the greatest wizard of all, who had founded the Academy and written the book. He dreamed of learning from him, and becoming his apprentice, his friend, his son. He dreamed of mastering the arts of magic, and using them for good, for justice, for peace. He dreamed of being a hero, a legend, a wizard.

He dreamed, and he dreamed, and he dreamed.

But dreams are not reality, and reality is not kind.

One night, as he lay on his straw mattress, in the corner of the room he shared with his brother, he heard a knock on the door. He got up and opened it, and saw a tall and burly man, wearing a leather coat and a metal helmet. He had a scarred and grim face, and a sword at his side. He was a soldier, a servant of the king.

"Are you Oliver Twist?" he asked, in a gruff and menacing voice.

"Yes, sir," Oliver said, trembling.

"Good. You're coming with me. The king wants to see you."

"The king? Why does he want to see me?" Oliver asked, confused and scared.

"You'll find out soon enough. Now, come on. Don't make me drag you."

The soldier grabbed Oliver by the arm, and pulled him out of the house. Oliver tried to resist, but he was too weak and small. He looked back, and saw his mother and brother, who had woken up and followed him. His mother was crying, and his brother was cursing.

"Mother! Jack! Help me!" Oliver shouted.

"Oliver! Oliver! Don't go!" his mother sobbed.

"Let him go, you bastard! Let him go!" his brother yelled.

But it was no use. The soldier dragged Oliver away, and threw
 

Ban

Troglodytic Trouvère
Article Team
Won't win a Hugo award but a book written that way could fool people if you throw an editor on it and change the names to be less silly.
 

Devor

Fiery Keeper of the Hat
Moderator
To me it looks like it keeps to a set of simple sentence structures that it understands and won't mess up, so we're going to see more complexity and style in writers of the future, like to prove they're not AI.
 

Devor

Fiery Keeper of the Hat
Moderator
Won't win a Hugo award but a book written that way could fool people if you throw an editor on it and change the names to be less silly.

I mean, yeah, that wasn't an easy prompt and the AI kept to it amazingly well.
 

Ban

Troglodytic Trouvère
Article Team
I haven't played around with these things yet, but I've heard of others using it to write X in the style of Y. You could try and see if that works. Something like "write in the style of Lovecraft."
 

Devor

Fiery Keeper of the Hat
Moderator
I haven't played around with these things yet, but I've seen others using it to write X in the style of Y. You could try and see if that works. Something like "write in the style of Lovecraft."

The last one I tried "in the style of Dickens." I wanted to see how complex it would get.

I'll try Lovecraft: err... it said something racist and then deleted itself. I'm not kidding.
 
AI is already here, and will only get better. It will be hard to compete.

I'm thinking it'll be more synergistic. A tool like spell-checking. Whatever competition happens might be more in the area of editing, and be a competition between writers. It's quite possible a new sort of writer will emerge that becomes the dominant type.

Then again, maybe AI will just do its own thing once it improves enough. Someone will create the algorithms for all levels of editing.
 
It's funny that people were so worried about automation in manufacturing and forgot to worry about white collar jobs and art and such heh.
 

Ban

Troglodytic Trouvère
Article Team
The last one I tried "in the style of Dickens." I wanted to see how complex it would get.

I'll try Lovecraft: err... it said something racist and then deleted itself. I'm not kidding.

Another author will do. Lovecraft's simply an easy style to recognise, yet complex enough to be a challenge for the AI. There also should be enough material in the database for it to work with. Another option could be William Gibson, he's pretty recognisable and certainly high profile enough.
 

pmmg

Myth Weaver
I think it is mistake to look at AI today and think that is all. Come back in a year, and it will be a whole different landscape.

Why should I write a book when I can just go to AI, feed it my characters and idea, and say make it?

AI can already write music, make paintings, write books, and just a few days ago, create movies. Its coming.
 

Ban

Troglodytic Trouvère
Article Team
For me this new AI is encouraging me to delve deeper into my poetry and my idiosyncratic Limburgish writing. So far, neither can be replicated by AI. Perhaps other writers will follow suit and we will see otherwise overlooked languages and conlangs develop sprawling fields of literature.
 
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