That time I asked ChatGPT to rewrite one of my scripts
Let’s talk about the joys (and occasional horrors) of creativity and making stuff.
Open the pod bay doors, please
Once upon a time, I needed to rewrite a short script into three different voices. So, just to see what would happen, I tossed my text and a short prompt for each version at ChatGPT. And it quickly turned out three versions that reminded me of…well, they kind of reminded me of a scene from the Cronenberg/Goldblum/Davis 1986 version of The Fly. You know, the scene where she samples a bite of teleported steak?
Maybe I should back up a bit and provide some context. But first, here’s some quick news.
What’s going on?
I’m going to be part of a live filmmaker Q&A this Friday 18 Oct as part of the streaming edition of the HP Lovecraft Film Festival. Your Parasite and You will be shown as part of Shorts Block 1, which begins streaming at 7pm—followed by the live Zoom Q&A with the filmmakers at 8:15. Should be fun. I usually spend a lot of time complimenting the other filmmakers—they always impress me! If this sounds like fun to you too, you can get your pass here.
Your Parasite and You has been accepted by the Bleedingham Film Festival in Bellingham, Washington! It will be showing Sunday afternoon 27 Oct, as part of the Creepy Cornucopia short film block. Bleedingham will present films and events the entire weekend, so it looks like a fun time for Pacific Northwest horror fans.
Alternate universes on demand
Last year, I released Not Even a Season, a comedy/music/sci-fi podcast. It was heard by over a dozen people throughout the world.
Here’s how the narrator opens the last episode:
Hi, and welcome to the final episode of Not Even a Season. This is it. Last episode. Yeah, I’m done. And so is our sponsor and cloud host, Probable. I know this all sounds like bad news, and it is, but it’s also good news because it means…OK, first, let’s review.
This podcast, Not Even a Season, started out as a “relisten” podcast about some overlooked music from the history of television. Then things got weird. Pretty quickly. I played songs from shows none of you guys had never heard of. Then I received files of songs that even I had never heard of, supposedly sent to me by me. And then I wigged out. A little.
So while the narrator was saying that, I wanted overlapping simultaneous narrators from alternate universes to fade in and out, showcasing the thinning barriers between their realities.
Fun idea, but now I had write the durn things. Like many (most?) of my projects, Not Even a Season managed to be bigger and more complicated that I originally thought, and here, right at the end, it expanded again.
Let’s face it, I was tired.
But hey, what if I asked ChatGPT to help? I wrote the original script, and I could note in the credits which portions where AI-produced, so it wasn’t really cheating, right?
So I set up an Open AI account. I sent ChatGPT the text you read above, and asked it to rewrite it in the style of a villain. And almost immediately after pressing Return, ChatGPT sent back the entire thing, rewritten as a classic villain. Here it is:
Villain
Welcome, captivated audience, to the grand finale of Not Even a Season. Witness the climax of this enthralling tale, where my fiendish schemes bear fruit, sealing the fate of our hapless sponsor, Probable, into oblivion.
Feel the despair in these words, embrace it, for it heralds the dawn of my malevolent triumph. Amidst the darkness, lies a twisted joy, savored only by the truly villainous.
Recall how innocently this podcast began, a mere "relisten" endeavor, but beware, my true sinister intent lurked beneath. Swiftly, the ambiance turned sinister as I played obscure songs, bewildering my unsuspecting pawns.
Yet, the pièce de résistance unfolded when enigmatic files reached me, concealing melodies unknown even to their curator - me. Fabric of reality unraveled, a flicker of madness touched my soul, but a true villain embraces chaos.
Now, as this nefarious podcast concludes, my maleficence echoes through time. Tremble, unwitting listeners, haunted by the enigma of Not Even a Season. Muahahaha!
Tone? Perfect. Length? A little talky. Does it follow the original script? Well…it changed the speaker's entire relationship to the events of the show ("...but beware, my true sinister intent lurked beneath..."). He is the cause of the mystery, instead of working to solve it. And there's a subtler, pervasive issue.
But before we talk about that, let’s look at another example. My next prompt was to rewrite the script in Shakespearean prose. And lo verily, in but an instant this popped up:
Shakespearean
Hark! Welcome to the denouement of Not Even a Season, this, the final episode unfolds. Yea, the last of its kind, for I am spent, as is our noble patron, the cloud host Probable. Alas, these tidings bear the weight of ill news, yet perchance, within the gloom, a glimmer of cheer emerges.
To begin, let us retrace our steps. This very podcast, Not Even a Season, commenced as a "relisten" venture, to unearth forgotten melodies from television's storied past. Ere long, a strange and curious air descended upon us. With haste, I did regale you with tunes from shows unknown to any in your company.
Yet, lo, the strangeness swelled! Unfamiliar files, containing unheard songs, appeared ere my eyes. Aye, purportedly sent from my very self, they led me to an eerie bewilderment, a touch of madness, if you will.
And now, as we bid farewell to this enigmatic podcast, the reverberations of our mischievous venture shall endure, echoing through the annals of time. Tremble, dear listeners, in the wake of Not Even a Season's enigma. Aye, a passing madness did seize me, but mark my words, a true villain embraces chaos in its entirety!
Again, spooky fast. Maybe a little talky. And again swapping the character's motivations right there at the end.
Admittedly, I could have tried amending my prompt to fix the obvious problems. But there was still that deeper problem with these rewrites.
Hey, did some lovely reader forward this to you? They're the best, aren't they? Why not join them as an early subscriber? It’s free! Be part of the Nifty Fifty!
There’s the text—where’s the character?
In a nutshell, ChatGPT works like autocomplete on steroids. Based on the prompt it is given (“rewrite this in Shakespearean prose”) it chooses a statistically likely word to start, then looks at it and figures out what is the next most likely word to say. Then it looks at those two and chooses a third word, etc. etc. Yes, it’s more complicated than that, but that is still the heart of it.
And looking at the versions above, the word choice on both of them is great. They really capture the sound and vocabulary. But they are missing the character. They are missing the “why?”
Remember I mentioned “The Fly?”
Early in the movie, before he—and the titular fly—go through his transporter, Seth Brundle (Jeff Goldblum) shows a problem with his technology to Veronica Quaife (Geena Davis): he hasn’t figured out how transmit living matter. He demonstrates by sending a piece of raw steak through the pods. He then cooks it, and Veronica takes a bite. Which she spits out immediately.
- Ooh, that tastes funny.
- Funny how?
- Synthetic.
(He then fixes the living tissue problem, goes through the transporter himself, and everything works out great for everybody. The end. At least that’s what I remember...)
And I felt like Veronica as I read the new versions ChatGPT gave me. They tasted…synthetic.
I realized that the character of who was speaking would affect more that the language. Their motivations would be different, their attitudes would be different, their conclusions would be different--even if their inherent roles were the same. I didn’t feel any of that in the new versions. I ended writing the alternate versions myself.
Won’t they fix it in v2.0?
Admittedly, this is just a couple of samples from a single Large Language Model AI. And both were done last summer, which is like 1963 in internet-years.
AI tech will continue to get more sophisticated—and will probably accelerate exponentially when AIs start autonomously programming AIs.
And we’ll get better at phrasing our requests. We will keep pace by adapting, by learning to talk to AI to get what we want, just like we’ve learned how to stroke our iPads to get new episodes of Abbott Elementary.
At the heart of it all, computers will always be collections of switches. Yes/no, true/false, on/off. They will always be a stair step simulation of the curves of our analog reality.
Whereas, at the heart of us all, we have actual hearts. We are, as Terry Bisson noted, made out of meat. Even our brains. And this is not a weakness. The human brain is one of the most complex structures in the universe, a combination of meat, electricity, chemicals, and hundreds of trillions of connections between a hundred billion cells. Our neurons aren’t mere switches. We are not digital. We are analog beings, capable of infinite gradations along all the scales of being.
I’m not saying there won’t be disruptions as AI gets more sophisticated and more common. I just think we need to remember that even the most sophisticated AI is an etch-a-sketch “let’s pretend” of actual human thought. Like any tool, we need to use our meaty brains to think hard about where, and when to use it.
Fun things to know and share
10 profound answers about the math behind AI (a full overview of just what AI is, from the always fascinating from The Big Think)
3 subtle traits of successful late bloomers (another Big Think piece, with some surprising—and reassuring—conclusions)
Zuihitsu: Or, Follow The Brush (as a lifelong overthinker, I find this concept fascinating)
Brian Cox pronounces whisky names (informative, entertaining, with varying degrees of sobriety)
A quote from Tennessee Williams: “We live in a perpetually burning building, and what we must save from it, all the time, is love."
Over to you
The term “AI” covers a lot of levels and applications. You’ve probably already been using some form of AI without even knowing it. Especially if you’ve manipulated any photos lately. Or used autocorrect. Or unlocked your phone with facial recognition.
So, spoken to any omniscient silicon-based beings lately? Leave a comment and let us know!
And, as always, I remain,
Your pal,
Jamie