Roasting ChatGPT Part 3 (Finale)

Photo by Georg Abrosimov on Unsplash

Yet darkness feeds hunger.

The more he used it, the less he slept, until his own reflection no longer appeared in water. One evening, beneath a blood-red moon, the crystal power abandoned him. The shadows peeled away from his body like smoke.

Once more, he was ordinary.

Frostfang screamed at the sky.

He refused weakness. Refused mortality.

Deep in the oldest part of the forest stood a dead tree called the Hollow King. Legends claimed spirits lived beneath its roots. Frostfang dug into the earth until his claws bled and found a glowing green flame buried in darkness.

He swallowed it.

Death answered.

Suddenly he could command spirits. Ghostly wolves followed him through the woods. Flowers wilted beneath his paws. Animals dropped dead from fear alone. Frostfang laughed for the first time in years. At last, he thought, he had found power no one could take away.

But the spirits whispered constantly.

More, they said.

More.

Of course, it’s something ghost or spirit-related because why not? I did tell it to have him haunt the forest after he’s destroyed. But I said after! Get with the program, ChatGPT.

So what’s the story going to do with Ghostwolf? Also, is anyone else irked that the story tries to be extra dramatic by putting so many sentences on their own lines? When it’s trying to be overly theatrical, it just sounds annoying. It’s like when students have a paper due the next morning, and they try to make it longer with larger font sizes or by widening the margins or something.

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Frostfang grew obsessed. He raised armies of ghosts and drained life from the forest itself. Rivers turned black. Trees rotted standing upright. The moon often disappeared behind clouds of green mist.

Then came the final night.

The spirits he commanded were never servants. They were prisoners.

And prisoners eventually break free.

Thousands of ghosts erupted from the ground beneath him. They clawed at his fur, his eyes, his soul. Frostfang fought back with waves of deathly fire, but the forest itself seemed to reject him. The trees split open. The earth swallowed his paws.

The green flames inside him expanded until cracks of light burst through his body.

For one terrible moment, the entire forest glowed emerald.

Then Frostfang exploded into ash.

Silence followed.

Here we go with the threes again. “They clawed at his fur, his eyes, his soul.” The horror!

But I won’t lie, I like how ChatGPT was bold enough to blow Ghostwolf up before the story ends. Call me bloodthirsty, but it almost gave me a Chamber of Secrets vibe… almost. It’s not nearly as memorable as Tom Riddle’s death, but it tried.

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The rivers slowly cleared. Grass returned. Animals crept back into the woods. Seasons passed.

But travelers still speak of winter nights when fog curls between the trees and a wolf-shaped shadow watches from afar. Sometimes the air turns freezing cold. Sometimes thunder growls overhead. Sometimes shadows move without reason, and green fire flickers between branches.

They say Frostfang never truly disappeared.

The forest keeps his ghost now.

Why is this thing still called Frostfang? Couldn’t the travelers give this legend their own name? When the hunters came after him, did he tell them his name or something? Do humans speak wolf in this universe? He has powers that keep changing so maybe the ability to speak human is one of them.

That sounds like a random thing to complain about, but this story could’ve gone in any direction, and the machine chose to end it with “The forest keeps his ghost now.” Couldn’t we at least hear about a traveler who’s terrified because he knows that the Shadow Ghost or the Wolf of the Ash or whatever they nicknamed him might possess them? Illustrate to us that the wolf may still be around through the behavior of another character.

Photo by Ray Hennessy on Unsplash

So what have we learned, kiddies?

That AI sucks at wri-

Nah, I’m kidding. Even AI can come up with interesting ideas. You know… because it got them from us. But whatever, this thing is my coauthor now, I guess.

Really, though, I don’t get the hype of generating these stories. I had more fun roasting this than coming up with the prompt, and I still don’t feel like I achieved much. No, it’s not because I just bullied a helpless robot (I can’t wait for someone to get mad at me for mocking this thing). It’s because at the end of the day, this story is still an AI-generated story.

This is what I meant when I said, at best, something like this can be used as an outline. It can’t replace us as writers. This feels like the kind of thing you would generate on a day that you have no ideas for a story. Take these ideas and play with them. See what AI comes up with. In fact, I’d love to see what others can come up with for this story.

But supposedly, these things are going to get so brilliant at writing that humans will no longer be needed. If AI is going to steal from us, why not give it some free criticism?

I can see the comments now:

“It may be AI, but the way you bully ChatGPT with no remorse shows who you are as a person.”

“You’re just mad that you couldn’t come up with anything better.”

“Stop abusing ChatGPT. For your sake, not-”

Save it!

Also, I know people are going to come at me, going, “Well, of course your story sucked. You need to learn how to prompt better.”

All right. I’ll concede to that. Only if you learn how to write on your own without the aid of an LLM. And admit it’s not a person.

You hear that? It’s the sound of AI bros doubled over in pain. I guess I went too far with that admit it’s not a person thing.

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