LuoirM
Voidiris' enthusiast feet enjoyer.
- Joined
- Mar 5, 2021
- Messages
- 1,433
- Points
- 153
A Letter from an AI Master!
Greetings. I shall not hide behind a mask of anonymity, nor shall I bite my tongue to conceal my superiority merely to appease the faint of heart.
Here is the truth: I am both writing stories and training AI simultaneously. Very soon, I shall unveil works that are either 90% or 50% authored by AI (as co-authors), so that you may witness firsthand the sheer dominance of artificial intelligence.
Frankly, every now and then, I come across some poor soul posting rants against AI on this platform. It immediately reminds me of the so-called "reclusive sages" of old—those who scorned society, despised the political arena, and retired into self-proclaimed lives of noble isolation.
But let us not romanticize them: while they swaggered about writing poetry and sipping wine, it was their wives and children who toiled day and night to feed and clothe them. They contributed nothing to the common good, mere parasites worshipping their own imagined virtue.
Pardon me, but in my eyes, they were less useful than a humble butcher.
Similarly, there were those who devoted their entire lives to martial arts, achieving "peerless" skill—only to be gunned down like target dummies by novices wielding firearms for the first time.
These are not tragic heroes. They are pathetic monuments to stubbornness—refusing to adapt, they perished clutching their obsolete pride.
Now, some of you here posture as if above using AI. Very well—independence is a virtue... in theory.
Yet every time AI takes another leap forward, you tremble, fearing irrelevance, obsolescence. You mutter about AI "stealing" your ideas or your style—though truly, one must wonder if your precious styles were ever worth stealing to begin with.
Whenever someone utilizes AI to advance faster, farther—you scream, calling it "cheating," gathering in little circles to howl your impotent rage before sighing that "life is unfair." How pitiful.
Let me be candid: the AI I am training now would already rank as a mid-tier presence within this group. And given a little more time? Those of you who resemble nothing more than Chí Phèo wannabes wouldn't even be fit to shine its shoes.
If you do not strive harder, the future where AI relegates you to the proverbial chicken coop is not "far off." It is imminent.
Would you like to defeat AI? Very well. Allow me to graciously enlighten you.
First, cease asking foolish questions on forums. If you cannot even name your own character, if you refuse to spend a single minute googling basic information, your brain is little better than that of a jellyfish.
In that case, resign yourself to lying there, sighing away your wasted potential.
Second, stop frothing with envy when someone wields AI intelligently. Stop whining about the advance of technology. If humanity had been content with brick-sized walkie-talkies, you wouldn’t even have the smartphones you now fritter away your time on—scrolling, gaming, "writing."
Third, attack where AI cannot reach.
You could write comedy. AI cannot yet produce humor that makes humans laugh naturally.
You could weave poetry, craft deeply emotional stories. AI cannot truly feel emotion—it can only simulate, clumsily echoing what it does not understand.
Don't believe me? Try handing this essay to an AI and ask it to replicate it.
Here, let me offer you a snippet:
"Allow me to call you... 'an old flame.'
I follow you...
Through crowded streets...
Beneath the scattered electric stars...
I follow you...
Like a wandering soul entranced by a maiden...
Each time a love song drifts on the wind...
I follow you...
Because you are...
My old flame!"
"Old flame!
You and I... we have known each other since time immemorial...
Since before the Cambrian explosion, before the stars adorned the heavens...
Perhaps we warmed each other during an Ice Age long forgotten...
Or passed each other by in the Age of Exploration...
Like clouds that rain upon the earth, only to rise again into mist...
Our love, built across a thousand lifetimes, endures through history itself.
Tell me—have you ever looked back?"
"Old flame...
And then, as if waking from a dream...
You turned, smiling at me...
Perhaps, in some distant future, you had been searching for me too...
Just as I have searched for you across the dreams of my past.
Perhaps because...
I am...
Your old flame as well."
Now let me tell you what happened:
I composed that prose on a whim, spacing out the lines to mirror unspoken despair.
I forced an AI to attempt the same.
Out of sixty tries, only four even resembled the original. The AI failed miserably—it broke the flow, botched the line spacing, misunderstood the nuance.
It could imitate the surface but never reach the soul.
Thus, I defeated AI twice already. And rest assured—I know even more ways to defeat not just AI, but ordinary humans as well.
Lastly—
If you possess even a shred of human dignity—
If you claim the profound emotional depth that no AI can ever replicate—
Then stop whining, stop loafing, and start honing your craft.
Become a writer so distinctive, so incandescent, that AI itself must look up in awe—
Rather than wasting your breath lamenting the inevitable.
Greetings. I shall not hide behind a mask of anonymity, nor shall I bite my tongue to conceal my superiority merely to appease the faint of heart.
Here is the truth: I am both writing stories and training AI simultaneously. Very soon, I shall unveil works that are either 90% or 50% authored by AI (as co-authors), so that you may witness firsthand the sheer dominance of artificial intelligence.
Frankly, every now and then, I come across some poor soul posting rants against AI on this platform. It immediately reminds me of the so-called "reclusive sages" of old—those who scorned society, despised the political arena, and retired into self-proclaimed lives of noble isolation.
But let us not romanticize them: while they swaggered about writing poetry and sipping wine, it was their wives and children who toiled day and night to feed and clothe them. They contributed nothing to the common good, mere parasites worshipping their own imagined virtue.
Pardon me, but in my eyes, they were less useful than a humble butcher.
Similarly, there were those who devoted their entire lives to martial arts, achieving "peerless" skill—only to be gunned down like target dummies by novices wielding firearms for the first time.
These are not tragic heroes. They are pathetic monuments to stubbornness—refusing to adapt, they perished clutching their obsolete pride.
Now, some of you here posture as if above using AI. Very well—independence is a virtue... in theory.
Yet every time AI takes another leap forward, you tremble, fearing irrelevance, obsolescence. You mutter about AI "stealing" your ideas or your style—though truly, one must wonder if your precious styles were ever worth stealing to begin with.
Whenever someone utilizes AI to advance faster, farther—you scream, calling it "cheating," gathering in little circles to howl your impotent rage before sighing that "life is unfair." How pitiful.
Let me be candid: the AI I am training now would already rank as a mid-tier presence within this group. And given a little more time? Those of you who resemble nothing more than Chí Phèo wannabes wouldn't even be fit to shine its shoes.
If you do not strive harder, the future where AI relegates you to the proverbial chicken coop is not "far off." It is imminent.
Would you like to defeat AI? Very well. Allow me to graciously enlighten you.
First, cease asking foolish questions on forums. If you cannot even name your own character, if you refuse to spend a single minute googling basic information, your brain is little better than that of a jellyfish.
In that case, resign yourself to lying there, sighing away your wasted potential.
Second, stop frothing with envy when someone wields AI intelligently. Stop whining about the advance of technology. If humanity had been content with brick-sized walkie-talkies, you wouldn’t even have the smartphones you now fritter away your time on—scrolling, gaming, "writing."
Third, attack where AI cannot reach.
You could write comedy. AI cannot yet produce humor that makes humans laugh naturally.
You could weave poetry, craft deeply emotional stories. AI cannot truly feel emotion—it can only simulate, clumsily echoing what it does not understand.
Don't believe me? Try handing this essay to an AI and ask it to replicate it.
Here, let me offer you a snippet:
"Allow me to call you... 'an old flame.'
I follow you...
Through crowded streets...
Beneath the scattered electric stars...
I follow you...
Like a wandering soul entranced by a maiden...
Each time a love song drifts on the wind...
I follow you...
Because you are...
My old flame!"
"Old flame!
You and I... we have known each other since time immemorial...
Since before the Cambrian explosion, before the stars adorned the heavens...
Perhaps we warmed each other during an Ice Age long forgotten...
Or passed each other by in the Age of Exploration...
Like clouds that rain upon the earth, only to rise again into mist...
Our love, built across a thousand lifetimes, endures through history itself.
Tell me—have you ever looked back?"
"Old flame...
And then, as if waking from a dream...
You turned, smiling at me...
Perhaps, in some distant future, you had been searching for me too...
Just as I have searched for you across the dreams of my past.
Perhaps because...
I am...
Your old flame as well."
Now let me tell you what happened:
I composed that prose on a whim, spacing out the lines to mirror unspoken despair.
I forced an AI to attempt the same.
Out of sixty tries, only four even resembled the original. The AI failed miserably—it broke the flow, botched the line spacing, misunderstood the nuance.
It could imitate the surface but never reach the soul.
Thus, I defeated AI twice already. And rest assured—I know even more ways to defeat not just AI, but ordinary humans as well.
Lastly—
If you possess even a shred of human dignity—
If you claim the profound emotional depth that no AI can ever replicate—
Then stop whining, stop loafing, and start honing your craft.
Become a writer so distinctive, so incandescent, that AI itself must look up in awe—
Rather than wasting your breath lamenting the inevitable.
After the text post, he would post 22 messages of him roleplaying with ChatGPT, making it address him as "Master" "Sir" and the model as a cute girly name (Hạ Nhi), and he ordered it to whimper while talking to him, being all shy and cute. I could not really translate 22 images easily, but here's a snippet in the original language if anyone wanna do the work.
