AI generated stories for analysis.

[Jackarandajam]

Two talkative elves, brothers, race through a series of swampy slot canyons, running from a mysterious monster stalking them but staying just out of their flickering torchlight. It has devoured all elves that pass through its land, but these two had to take the shortcut because their third brother has been abducted by a band of bloodthirsty outlaws led by a woman known only as Ghouls Kiss. Unbeknownst to them, the third brother is in love with the outlaw leader and has run away to join her band of outlaws in hopes of getting her attention.
One of the two brothers internally over-analyzes everything that is said, the other is only thinking about things completely unrelated to their current predicament.
It is a fast-paced, poetic story, written in the prose style of Cormac mccarthy. It occasionally subtly references the black book of carmarthen.

--- (perchance)


"You're sure this is the right path?" panted the first elf, his eyes darting around the narrow, shadowy canyon walls.

"I think so," huffed the second, squinting at the ancient map they'd found in their grandfather's study. It was brittle and smelled faintly of mold, but it was all they had to navigate the treacherous swamp.

The first elf, the over-thinker, couldn't help but muse on the irony of their situation. "If only we had listened to the old tales," he thought, "perhaps we'd have avoided this accursed place." His mind raced with questions about the creature they were fleeing from. What did it want with them? Was it vengeful, hungry, or just a mindless beast? The torchlight cast eerie patterns on the canyon walls, and he found himself jumping at every shadow that danced alongside their frenzied steps.

Meanwhile, the second elf, lost in his own world, contemplated the deliciousness of a perfectly roasted marshmallow. The sweet, smoky aroma filled his nostrils, the gooey warmth spreading across his tongue. It was a stark contrast to the cold, damp air that clung to them in the swamp. His thoughts grew more ludicrous by the minute, planning an elaborate campfire feast with friends, laughter echoing through the canyons. The creature's growl pierced the silence, snapping him back to reality with a jolt.

(ChatGPT Version)

In the shadowed depths of the swampy slot canyons, where the air hung heavy with the tang of decay and the flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows on the moss-covered walls, two elven brothers raced for their lives. Tall and lithe, they moved with the fluid grace of their kind, though panic fueled their steps as they fled from a relentless presence that slithered just beyond their sight.
"I told you, Thaldir, we should've taken the longer route through the Whispering Woods," panted Eirion, his voice a hushed whisper edged with fear.
"And risk our brother's life for a few hours' delay? Nonsense!" Thaldir retorted, his words clipped and precise even in the midst of their mad dash. His mind, however, drifted to thoughts unrelated to their perilous plight — the constellations he had observed the previous night and the peculiar markings on the ancient stones they had passed earlier.
Their torches sputtered, casting erratic shadows that seemed to twist and elongate like the fingers of some unseen specter. The monster, a creature whispered of in dread tales among their kin, was known for its insatiable hunger for elven flesh. None who had ventured into its domain had returned, save as bones picked clean.
"We must find higher ground," Thaldir murmured, more to himself than to his brother. "There are passages in the Black Book of Carmarthen that speak of such creatures. Perhaps there is a way to evade it."
Eirion shot him a desperate glance. "Do you really think now's the time for ancient texts, brother? We need a plan, not more riddles!"
But Thaldir was lost in thought, mentally tracing the lines of the forbidden tome, seeking guidance that might save them from the lurking horror. Unbeknownst to either brother, their third sibling, Lythil, had chosen this treacherous shortcut not out of necessity, but out of a reckless desire to impress the enigmatic outlaw leader known as Ghoul's Kiss. Lythil's heart had been captivated by her daring tales and piercing gaze, and he had willingly forsaken the safety of home to seek adventure in her band of outlaws.
As they stumbled onward, the canyon walls narrowed, the air thickening with a sinister presence that seemed to anticipate their every move. Eirion's thoughts raced, his mind a whirl of fragmented fears and half-formed plans, while Thaldir's internal monologue delved deeper into the esoteric lore of their people.
Suddenly, a distant cry echoed through the labyrinthine passages, cutting through the oppressive silence like a blade. It was a voice they recognized — Lythil's voice, tinged with both fear and excitement. They pressed forward with renewed urgency, driven by a mix of dread and determination.
Ahead, the canyon opened into a small clearing, where the flickering torchlight revealed a scene both unexpected and bewildering — Lythil, standing amidst a band of outlaws, his gaze locked with that of a woman draped in shadows, her eyes gleaming like twin stars in the night.
"Ghoul's Kiss," Thaldir breathed, his mind racing to comprehend the twist of fate that had brought them here. Eirion, on the other hand, felt a surge of relief mixed with confusion as he looked upon his brother, torn between the danger they had narrowly escaped and the new dangers that lay ahead.
The elven brothers stood at the threshold of a world far beyond the boundaries of their homeland, where alliances were forged in shadows and hearts were tested against the backdrop of ancient prophecies and forbidden desires. And amidst it all, the monster that had pursued them remained a haunting presence, a reminder of the perils that awaited those who dared to defy the whims of fate.

---End Prompt---

One thing I've noticed, it seems pretty incapable of showing instead of telling. It just blurts everything out.

 

[skip.knox]

I have so many ideas for stories, the last thing I need is more prompts. I need more years.

Meanwhile, AI content has a bright future in shorter forms, including generating narrative for YouTube videos and that sort of thing. I wonder how well it would handle a history lecture. I wonder how much actual information I would have to feed it first, or if it would trot out and fetch it on its own.

 

[Jackarandajam]

So Far, some AI tattletales are:

1. Very synopsis-y. This is the easiest tell. Every sentence carries the plot too far forward and often feels like it should be expanded into a paragraph of its own.

2. Jumps topics very quickly and crams information together into complex sentences that would naturally be separated by a gradient of information and emotional shift.

3. Holy modifiers, Batman.

In the shadowed depths of the swampy slot canyons, where the air hung heavy with the tang of decay and the flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows on the moss-covered walls, two elven brothers raced for their lives. Tall and lithe, they moved with the fluid grace of their kind, though panic fueled their steps as they fled from a relentless presence...

Obviously some of these are informative, not just baggage, but it seems to have a favorite diagram. Unless It thought it was doing poetic or Mccarthy.

4. Tells like a joke-splainer.

The first elf, the over-thinker

His thoughts grew more ludicrous by the minute

where the flickering torchlight revealed a scene both unexpected and bewildering

At this point, my opinion is that the best way to tell AI from an amateur writer is pacing. Most early writing I've seen struggles more with having alot to say that doesn't drive the plot, rather than nothing at all to say that isn't on-the-nose hammering plot points. Story typically just doesn't scream along at the pace of AI coming out of a human.

 

[Jackarandajam]

The Count smirked, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Yeah, I've seen some weird stuff, too," he said, delivering a punt that sent the ghost spiraling into the air. "But nothing quite like a ghost who thinks he's too cool for the afterlife."

The award for the most startlingly intelligent thing I've seen today goes to this.

To tie hipster to ghost and come up with "too cool for the afterlife" is impressive.

That whole piece has some pretty interesting bits. I said the vampire was vain about his hair, it did a fair job giving him the mannerisms of vanity. I haven't looked up the quotes to see which Christopher Walken actually said, pretty sure several of them he didn't, but a couple, if they were quotes, were intelligently placed.

 

[Demesnedenoir]

At this point, to write a novel with AI and make it "good" would take more work than just writing it.

 

[Genly]

I have to admit, though, that the dire threat "I'll be back, and next time, I'll bring Kierkegaard!" would strike fear into the heart of any hardened warrior...

 

[Prince of Spires]

The Warrior Banana story is brilliant though. I really want to know how its battle with the blue dwarves ends...

"You know, Larry," Bob the banana said, flipping through the pages of a dusty, ancient cookbook in the quiet library, "these ancient fruit scrolls are fascinating, but I don't think I'll ever find a recipe that doesn't involve peeling."

Larry, a peach with a penchant for philosophy, peered over his friend's shoulder. "Perhaps the peeling is not just a culinary step, but a metaphor for the layers of life we shed to reveal our true selves."

This is some deep stuff...

 

[Prince of Spires]

In general I think your prompts are probably too short and generic still. What I've seen from people trying to write stories with it, is that they feed it an outline and a detailed plot of the part they want written. For longer form, they input what came before, and what is to come afterwards.

I think you can still use the same tells to distinguish AI from human writers. It just knows it needs to get information X on the page, but it has no idea what that information actually means, or even what a page is. But as I said, I've seen worse writing from human writers.

 

[Karlin]

I want to write novels, not manufacture them.

 

[Finchbearer]

In general I think your prompts are probably too short and generic still. What I've seen from people trying to write stories with it, is that they feed it an outline and a detailed plot of the part they want written. For longer form, they input what came before, and what is to come afterwards.

I think you can still use the same tells to distinguish AI from human writers. It just knows it needs to get information X on the page, but it has no idea what that information actually means, or even what a page is. But as I said, I've seen worse writing from human writers.

You keep mentioning more detailed prompts, but I don’t think this would be that much more effective. It’ll still churn out the usual rubbish in my opinion. I’ve tried more detailed prompts and if anything it seems to get worse. By the time you’ve messed around with all of that you may as well have just used your brain and written something from scratch.

 

[Ban]

I have to admit, though, that the dire threat "I'll be back, and next time, I'll bring Kierkegaard!" would strike fear into the heart of any hardened warrior...

Reminds me of this www.existentialcomics.com post.

 

[Ban]

While we're at it, this recent comic of theirs is relevant as well

 

[Prince of Spires]

To be fair, the answer to life, the universe, and everything is indeed 42. Everyone knows that...

You keep mentioning more detailed prompts, but I don’t think this would be that much more effective.

I've not tried it, so I don't know. It's mainly what I've seen of people who promote it as a way to write novels. If you're using it to write a longer story, then you shouldn't ask it to write a story about X. Rather you ask it to write a chapter or a scene which fits into this outline, with these characters who do X, Y, and Z.

That sort of thing.

 

[Mireille]

An anthropomorphic banana warrior battles an army of smurf-like dwarves, wielding a giant magical spork heaped with Troll Mucous

"You know, Larry," Bob the banana said, flipping through the pages of a dusty, ancient cookbook in the quiet library, "these ancient fruit scrolls are fascinating, but I don't think I'll ever find a recipe that doesn't involve peeling."

Larry, a peach with a penchant for philosophy, peered over his friend's shoulder. "Perhaps the peeling is not just a culinary step, but a metaphor for the layers of life we shed to reveal our true selves."

Bob rolled his eyes. "You're one to talk. You still have your fuzz."

"But think about it," Larry insisted, his voice echoing through the vast, empty room, "the fruit kingdom is vast and diverse. Each of us has our purpose, our destiny."

The banter between the two fruit friends was interrupted by the clanking of the library door. They turned to see a peculiar creature stumble in, covered in what appeared to be a blue armor made of...spoons? The creature looked up at them with wide, terrified eyes.

"I...I've seen them," it stuttered, gasping for air. "The...the blue ones, they're coming!"

Bob and Larry exchanged confused glances. The creature was clearly distraught, and the sight of its makeshift armor suggested it had been through something harrowing. But blue ones? What could it mean?

"Whoa, easy there," Bob said, his leafy hand reaching out to comfort the trembling fruit. "What are you talking about?"

The creature, who introduced itself as a Plumkin from the neighboring village, took a deep breath and began to recount its tale. It spoke of an unexpected and terrifying encounter with a horde of dwarves, each no larger than a walnut, with skin the color of a clear summer sky. Their eyes, however, were anything but calming; they burned with a fierce, cold blue flame.

"They've...they've taken everything," the Plumkin managed to get out between sobs. "Food, weapons, even the village pets! They're... they're monsters!"

Larry, ever the deep thinker, pondered the situation. "Blue dwarves with the power to instill fear in a seasoned warrior like yourself? This is most unusual. Could they be under some form of enchantment?"

The Plumkin nodded frantically. "Yes, yes! Their leader wields a giant magical spork, dripping with Troll Mucous! It's...it's like nothing we've ever seen before!"

At the mention of Troll Mucous, Bob's eyes widened. Everyone in the fruit kingdom knew the legends of the sticky, green substance that could amplify the power of any weapon it touched. "That's serious," he murmured, flipping the page of the cookbook to reveal a recipe titled "The Warrior's Last Stand." The irony was not lost on him.

The friends knew they had to act. If these smurf-like dwarves were indeed a threat, then the entire fruit realm could be in danger. Larry suggested they gather the council of wise berries for advice, while Bob, ever the practical one, thought they should start by sharpening their own...peels.

But as they discussed their plan, the distant rumble of approaching footsteps grew louder. The library windows rattled, and the very air seemed to quiver with anticipation. The blue dwarves had arrived, and with them, the warrior banana's destiny was about to unfold.

Bob closed the cookbook with a thud. "Looks like we're skipping the appetizers and going straight to the main course," he said, a determined glint in his eye. "Let's go give these little pests a taste of what we're made of."

Larry nodded solemnly. "But remember, Bob. We fight not just for ourselves, but for all fruit-kind. We must be swift and cunning, like the banana in the jungle."

The two friends donned their makeshift armor and took up their weapons—Bob with his trusty spoon and Larry with a peach pit sharpened into a point. The Plumkin handed them a bag of small, hard berries. "For your journey," it said, its voice filled with hope.

They nodded in thanks and stepped out into the blinding sunlight, ready to face whatever the blue dwarves had in store for them. The fate of the fruit kingdom rested in their...fruitful hands.

You know it's bad whey you can identify the source material. Larry and Bob are origonally form Vegie Tails where Larry is a tomato and Bob is a cucumber.

 

[bproorda]

As a software developer, I do believe AI can be useful and helpful. I have an app called Pi, the most natural sounding ai I have found so far. I have found it handy to ask it for other word choices, or for possible rewording of a sentence I am stuck on. I have also used it for writing prompts for free writing exercises. This more of how I think AI should be used, to help you do something, not do something for you. Especially something like writing.
Also, AI works on trained mathematical models based on massive amounts of data. Data that is selected, filtered, and edited by a person (or a team of people). We have also seen examples where AIs have edited the prompts they received. So it is possible to have a writing AI that never uses contractions or the word blue. Or never have characters of a certain race/religion/whatever. So by using AI to write for you, you are actually limiting your ability as a writer.