Tyler Abbott

Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the last few months, you’ve heard about generative AI language learning models (LLMs) like ChatGPT. In less than a year, these tools have generated countless start-ups and raised questions about labor, technology, and the future of the human race. Rather than get into any of these big questions here, I’m interested in exploring how AI could revolutionize the world of storytelling.

Anyone can go to ChatGPT and request that it spin out a story. You give it the kernel of a story, like “write a 200-word story about a doctor who discovers that his patient is an alien” and you get this:

            “Dr. Daniel Thatcher had been a seasoned physician in the small, remote town of Glenwood for twenty years. In a place where everyone knew everyone else, it was rare to come across a new face, let alone one that made him question everything he knew about medicine and life.

One dreary afternoon, a mysterious patient, Mr. Xander Orion, walked into his clinic. The man’s pale blue skin and unnaturally long limbs were unlike anything Daniel had ever seen. But it was the man’s pulsating, silver eyes that gave him chills.

Xander explained that he had been experiencing severe migraines for the past few weeks. As Daniel examined him, he couldn’t help but notice the alien-like features of his patient. The faint hum emanating from Xander’s chest, his six-fingered hands, and the odd, almost metallic scent lingering in the air.

Curiosity drove Daniel to run a series of tests, and the results left him utterly dumbfounded. Xander’s cellular structure, vital signs, and even his blood composition were unlike any known human biology. The truth was undeniable: his patient was an extraterrestrial being.

Instead of succumbing to fear or panic, Dr. Thatcher resolved to help Xander. Over the course of several months, they forged an unlikely friendship, with Daniel learning more about the universe and its diverse inhabitants. It was during one of their late-night discussions that Xander revealed his true purpose on Earth: to study humanity’s capacity for compassion and kindness.

Through their bond, Dr. Daniel Thatcher had unknowingly proven that the human race was capable of transcending prejudice and embracing the unknown. And with that, Xander’s mission on Earth was complete.”

The result is… lackluster. In all honesty, it’s the sort of story a talented but unimaginative high-school English student would write. It’s fine but it’s not interesting. Not in the least. Clearly, without much direction, ChatGPT can produce something that passes as a story but has little artistic value. It’s a story no one would go out of their way to read (with good reason).

With this as the only evidence, it seems pretty ridiculous that AI could ever challenge human-created art. However,  it’s here that a partnership between author and AI would be intriguing.

How could I take the story that ChatGPT churned out and make it more interesting? Or how could I get ChatGPT to produce a more interesting story on its own? And if I get a decent story out of it, what are the ethics of then going and re-writing or editing that story? Artistically, is it really my story? Where does AI end and the artist begin? Before getting into any of that, let’s play around with ChatGPT and see if we can’t get something more interesting.  

First, let’s develop a prompt that might produce a more interesting first draft. To do so, we don’t have to rack our brains. Rather, we can have ChatGPT do it for us (an abdication of thought, my little brother would call this). We’ll ask, “create a prompt for a 200-word story about a doctor who discovers that his patient is an alien. The story’s genre should be horror. The style should be similar to Arthur C. Clarke but do not plagiarize.”

Here is the prompt ChatGPT gives us:

“Write a 200-word horror story, in the style of Arthur C. Clarke, about a doctor who encounters a patient unlike any other. The doctor slowly comes to the chilling realization that this patient is not of this world, and their true intentions are far more sinister than anyone could have imagined. As the doctor grapples with this newfound knowledge, the darkness lurking within the alien patient is revealed, leading to a horrifying climax.”

We’ll put this back into ChatGPT and the result is:

“Dr. Edgar Harrow, a seasoned physician in the desolate town of Hollow Creek, was startled by a late-night knock on his door. A gaunt, trembling figure stumbled in, introducing himself as Mr. Lysander.

Harrow observed the man’s peculiarities: elongated limbs, glassy eyes, and translucent, shimmering skin. Unsettled, he reluctantly began his examination. It wasn’t long before he found the patient’s pulsating, black heart, radiating an unnatural chill.

The more Dr. Harrow delved into Lysander’s physiology, the more horrified he became. Unearthly, intricate patterns adorned the patient’s organs, and each test revealed increasingly aberrant results. The chilling truth dawned upon Harrow: Lysander was no human.

As the doctor’s panic grew, Lysander’s sinister intentions surfaced. He revealed his purpose: to harvest the emotions of fear and despair from humans, a delicacy to his kind. The physician’s terror only served to nourish the otherworldly being.

In the horrifying climax, Lysander’s form twisted and contorted into a monstrous visage. As the alien creature lunged at Dr. Harrow, the doctor’s terror reached its peak. Consumed by the nightmare he’d unleashed, Harrow’s final screams echoed through the halls of his once-safe sanctuary.

In the aftermath, Hollow Creek was forever changed. An eerie darkness loomed, as the haunting memory of Dr. Harrow’s fate chilled the town’s core, a grim reminder of the horrors lurking just beyond human understanding.”

Well, now we’re onto something. Definitely more interesting, with some unique flourishes like the intricately designed details on the alien’s organs and its purpose to “harvest the emotions of fear and despair from humans.” However, the ending is unsatisfying. ChatGPT loses the plot a bit, describing rather than showing a satisfying conclusion.  

We’ll ask ChatGPT to re-write the previous story but with a more detailed denouement:

“Dr. Edgar Harrow, a seasoned physician in the desolate town of Hollow Creek, was a middle-aged man with graying hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and deep-set, intelligent eyes. He was known for his calm and methodical demeanor, which had earned him the trust and respect of the townspeople. One late night, he was startled by a knock on his door. A gaunt, trembling figure stumbled in, introducing himself as Mr. Lysander.

Harrow observed the man’s peculiarities: elongated limbs that seemed to bend at unnatural angles, glassy eyes that appeared to swirl with hidden depths, and translucent, shimmering skin that stretched taut over his skeletal frame. Unsettled, he reluctantly began his examination. Upon listening to the patient’s chest, he found Lysander’s pulsating, black heart, radiating an unnatural chill that sent shivers up his spine.

As Dr. Harrow delved deeper into Lysander’s physiology, he conducted a series of tests that left him increasingly horrified. Lysander’s blood had an iridescent quality, unlike anything he had ever seen. When examined under a microscope, it revealed complex, fractal patterns. His reflexes were inhumanly quick, and his muscle tissue appeared to be constructed of fibers that seemed to defy logic.

Unearthly, intricate patterns adorned the patient’s organs, as if etched by some alien hand. X-ray scans showed his bones to be unnervingly light, with a honeycomb structure that appeared to defy gravity. As each test revealed increasingly aberrant results, the chilling truth dawned upon Harrow: Lysander was no human.As the doctor’s panic grew, Lysander’s sinister intentions surfaced. He revealed his purpose: to harvest the emotions of fear and despair from humans, a delicacy to his kind. The physician’s terror only served to nourish the otherworldly being.

In the horrifying climax, Lysander’s form twisted and contorted into a monstrous visage. The alien creature lunged at Dr. Harrow, but the doctor managed to grab a scalpel and stab Lysander’s black heart. As the creature writhed in pain, it evaporated into a dark mist, leaving Harrow gasping for breath.

Harrow reported his chilling encounter, but no one believed him. Over time, the town’s skepticism weighed on him, driving him mad. He was last seen wandering into the dark woods, haunted by the alien horror he had faced, leaving behind a legacy of fear and whispers in the desolate town of Hollow Creek.”

Although still far from original or innovative, we’re getting closer to an interesting narrative. Rather than bore you with the process, I’ll link to the story I got out of ChatGPT after more tinkering. You can read at my Substack newsletter in which I’ll explore the relationship between AI and Fiction.

But to return to questions I asked earlier, what’s the point of writing a story like this? Isn’t it lazy? Doesn’t it defeat the purpose of writing a story, of experiencing the human mind grappling with complicated narratives and ideas? I don’t think so. Just like the invention of writing, the creation of the printing press, and the development of the internet all drastically changed and enhanced the way in which we tell stories, so will AI open up new artistic possibilities.

It’s hard to say how at this point, but I think that authors will be able to greatly expand their productivity. No longer inhibited by time constraints, they will be able to use AI to rapidly explore new ideas, spinning out first draft and making narrative connections they may not make otherwise. They can flesh out characters and plotlines with greater ease and speed, giving AI the bullet points and letting it do the heavy lifting. They’ll even be able to use it for editing and proofreading—a much more sophisticated alternative to spellcheck.

On a less hopeful note, there’s the possibility that AI kills creativity. Rather than using the AI as an extension of their own creative powers, some writers might use it as a crutch, becoming satisfied with the artistically impoverished text that it generates. Or, the idea of individual style might disappear, replaced by the polished, inhuman tone of AI.

On top of all of that, who owns these AI creations? I might have prompted it, but all the generated text was pulled from the internet, sliced and diced from a million different sources. If you could consider the internet our digital subconscious, then what AI produces belongs to all of us—the wisps and threads of our digital id, spun out by a mechanical ego.

But, it’s hard to say for sure. It’s almost a truism at this point to say that only time will tell.