AI A Song of Ice and Fire doesn’t seem to have read A Song of Ice and Fire
Okay, so having read some of these new versions of The Winds of Winter and A Dream of Spring, I have some big issues I haven’t seen mentioned yet, namely that, for as well as ChatGPT has absorbed the names of the characters, it doesn’t seem to have read A Song of Ice and Fire.
By that I mean that nothing in this version of The Winds of Winter seems like it’s following up on the end of A Dance with Dragons. At the end of that book, Tyrion and Jorah were in Meereen about to fight the invading Yunkish armies as part of the Golden Company. But the first chapter of ChatGPT’s The Winds of Winter has them on a boat on the Narrow Sea. Davos Seaworth and Brienne of Tarth are also there, for some reason. There’s a lot of jumping around in space and time.
And the AI isn’t just reluctant to kill off characters, it brings back ones who are already dead…like, really dead. In the middle of AI The Winds of Winter there’s a chapter revolving around Ser Arthur Dayne, a member of the Kingsguard who died at the end of Robert’s Rebellion. He talks with Sansa and contemplates how Jon Snow, “the brooding and honorable Stark bastard,” is actually the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. Ser Gerald Hightower is also around, so apparently the AI doesn’t know they’re supposed to be long dead.
One more example: A Dance With Dragons ends with Stannis Baratheon about to face down the Boltons, but in AI The Winds of Winter, his name is mentioned only once, when Davos thinks of the man “whose cause he had once championed.” So apparently he doesn’t champion it anymore? What happened?
The prose of AI A Song of Ice and Fire
Then there’s the way the chatbot’s text reads. As with our experiment, it doesn’t really recall Martin’s prose. It’s very vague and repetitive, and there’s a lot of it.
For instance, here’s a chunk from a chapter (or chapters; there are no chapter headings in this, so it’s hard to be sure where one chapter ends and another begins) about Daenerys:
"Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons, commanded the vanguard of her swelling forces, prepared to embark on a momentous military campaign, expanding her dominion and dispensing justice upon the slaver cities. With her trusted advisors at her side, she convened council, plotting the optimal course of action to achieve her objectives. In the war chamber, anticipation hung in the air, the scent of parchment and ink intermingling with the palpable tension. Daenerys Targaryen, her alabaster skin bathed in the gentle flicker of candlelight, commanded attention as she stood tall, her flowing silver-golden locks cascading like molten metal down her shoulders. The warm glow caressed her countenance, emphasizing the resolve within her violet eyes as she surveyed the sprawling maps upon the grand oak table. Ser Jorah Mormont, his face etched with the marks of battles fought and victories won, leaned forward, his gaze a blend of loyalty and concern. “Your Grace, our forces are primed, eager to heed your call. Yet, we must tread with caution. The slaver cities stand fortified, boasting formidable defenses. What is your strategy?” Daenerys turned her attention to her trusted advisor, her visage unwavering. “Ser Jorah, the time for subtlety has elapsed. We shall unleash the full fury of our dragons upon the slaver cities, instilling fear in the hearts of our foes and sowing chaos amidst their ranks. The power wielded by these magnificent beasts is unmatched, and it is through their fiery might that we shall deliver justice to those who perpetuate the abomination of slavery.” Tyrion Lannister, his eyes ignited with a blend of intellect and mischief, interjected, his voice laced with wit. “Your Grace, while the dragons shall undoubtedly strike fear into the hearts of our enemies, we must not discount the human factor in this war. We should not underestimate the potency of alliances and diplomacy. If we can rally the oppressed and forge a unified front against the slavers, their dominion shall crumble from within.” Daenerys regarded Tyrion with a pensive gaze, a strand of moonlight filtering through the window to grace her countenance with an ethereal luminescence. “You speak truth, Tyrion. Though our dragons possess awe-inspiring might, it is the hearts and minds of the people we must sway. We shall forge alliances with those who share our cause, who yearn for freedom and the eradication of injustice. Together, we shall deliver a blow from which the slavers shall never recover.” Missandei, her dusky complexion aglow in the flickering candlelight, stepped forth, her voice resolute and brimming with unwavering loyalty. “Your Grace, the Unsullied stand prepared to execute your every command. Their discipline and prowess in battle are unrivaled. They shall serve as the bedrock of our ground forces, ensuring our conquest is swift and resolute.” Daenerys nodded, a glimmer of determination crossing her features. “The Unsullied have proven their loyalty time and again. They embody the unyielding spirit of those who have suffered oppression and transcended their circumstances. With their presence beside us, we shall march upon the slaver cities, liberating the enslaved and toppling the shackles of tyranny.” Grey Worm, commander of the Unsullied, his visage a mask of stoicism, spoke with measured resolve. “Your Grace, we shall follow your lead, fighting with unswerving loyalty and surgical precision. Our spears shall be swift and lethal, felling our enemies without mercy.” Daenerys locked gazes with Grey Worm, an unspoken understanding passing between them. “Grey Worm, you and your Unsullied have repeatedly exemplified strength and honor. It is a privilege to have you at my side, and I have faith in your leadership. Together, we shall forge a new world, where freedom reigns and justice prevails.” As the council continued their deliberations, their voices melding with the flickering candlelight and the weight of destiny hanging in the air, Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons, readied herself to lead her forces into battle. Her determination was unyielding, her vision resolute. The road ahead would be rife with peril and sacrifice, yet she embraced each challenge that lay in wait, knowing that the fate of nations rested upon her shoulders. Within the war chamber, the dim glow of torches danced upon the countenances of Daenerys Targaryen and her advisors, casting shifting shadows that mirrored the uncertain path they were about to tread. Daenerys, her features bathed in the warm radiance, emanated an unwavering conviction as she addressed her council. “The cities of Yunkai, Astapor, and Meereen stand as fortresses of oppression, their walls erected upon the suffering of the enslaved,” she began, her voice heavy with resolve. “To liberate these cities is to strike at the very heart of the slaver culture. It will not be a simple task, but it is a necessary one.” Ser Jorah Mormont, his visage etched with the lines of earned wisdom from countless battles, stepped forth, meeting Daenerys’ gaze with unwavering loyalty. “Your Grace, the slavers are not ones to yield without a fight. They possess vast riches and formidable armies. We must prepare ourselves for a long and arduous struggle.” Daenerys nodded, her violet eyes gleaming with determination. “Indeed, Ser Jorah. The path before us is treacherous, and we must ready ourselves accordingly. We will need not only the strength of arms but also the hearts and minds of the people. Their support is key in toppling these oppressive regimes.” Tyrion Lannister, his razor-sharp wit matched by his astute intellect, interjected, his voice tinged with measured contemplation. “Your Grace, the slaver cities are not united. They teem with internal rivalries and discontent. We must exploit these divisions, sow seeds of discord, and forge alliances with those who yearn for freedom. By turning their own people against them, we make our conquest all the more viable.” Daenerys regarded Tyrion, a strand of moonlight casting a silvery sheen upon his countenance, as he continued, his words laced with cunning. “We shall send envoys to these cities, offering them a choice: to stand with us in the fight against slavery or face the wrath of our dragons and the fury of the Unsullied. By presenting an alternative, we offer them hope for a brighter future, an opportunity to cast off the chains they have forged for themselves.” Missandei, her presence emanating grace and intelligence, stepped forth, her voice carrying a note of empathy. “Your Grace, the people within these cities have endured immense suffering for far too long. They yearn for liberation and justice. We must demonstrate that our intentions are not that of conquerors but of liberators, freeing them from the chains that have ensnared them for generations.” Daenerys shifted her gaze from one advisor to the next, contemplating their counsel, her countenance a tableau of thoughtful consideration. “Each of you speaks with wisdom. We must approach this with strategy, blending our military might with diplomacy and the power of persuasion. We shall gather information, pinpointing those individuals who may be sympathetic to our cause and exploiting the weaknesses in the very foundations of these slaver societies.” Grey Worm, his stoic presence a testament to the indomitable strength of the Unsullied, advanced, his voice measured and unwavering. “Your Grace, the Unsullied stand ready to fight. We are disciplined, fearless, and devoted to your cause. We shall be the vanguard of your forces, striking at the heart of the slaver cities and inspiring others to rise up alongside us.” Daenerys nodded, a subtle smile gracing her lips. “Grey Worm, you and your Unsullied have time and again proved your mettle. Your loyalty and prowess in battle are unrivaled. It is you who shall lead our ground forces, liberating each city with the unwavering strength of your conviction.” As the council convened, the warm glow of candlelight bathed their faces, lending an air of both solemnity and purpose to their deliberations. Their voices intertwined, weaving a tapestry of strategy and unwavering resolve. In this chamber adorned with ancient tapestries, each depicting the triumphs and tribulations of battles long past, Daenerys Targaryen, resplendent in her regal attire, presided over the gathering. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows upon her countenance, emphasizing the fire that burned within her. Standing steadfast by her side, Ser Jorah Mormont, his weathered visage etched with the marks of countless conflicts, offered his wisdom with measured confidence. “Your Grace,” he began, his voice resonating with the authority earned on the battlefield, “we must analyze the strengths and weaknesses of the slave armies that stand against us. Their discipline is formidable, their numbers great, but they lack the spirit and determination that our forces possess. We can exploit their reliance on fear and oppression, turning it against them by offering the promise of liberation.” Daenerys nodded, the golden light caressing her face, accentuating her unyielding determination. “You speak true, Ser Jorah. We shall never underestimate their forces, but nor shall we underestimate the power of inspiration. The liberation of the Unsullied serves as a testament that hope and freedom can be potent weapons on the battlefield.” Grey Worm, his stoic visage a reflection of the Unsullied’s unwavering discipline, stepped forward, his voice measured and resolute. “Your Grace, I have commanded the Unsullied in countless battles, and I have studied the tactics of the slave armies. Their reliance on sheer numbers can be their downfall. We shall employ strategies of agility and precision, striking swiftly and decisively, targeting their leaders and undermining their resolve.” Daenerys regarded Grey Worm, the gentle glow of candlelight accentuating the determination etched upon his face, as she acknowledged his counsel. “Grey Worm, your expertise and leadership have proven invaluable to our cause. We shall heed your words and harness the formidable skills of the Unsullied to dismantle the slave armies, striking at their core and inspiring those who yearn for freedom to rise alongside us.” Missandei, emanating grace and intellect, stepped forward, her voice resonating with cultural insight and political acumen. “Your Grace, the slaver cities are not mere bastions of power; they are intricate webs of political alliances and internal rivalries. By exploiting these divisions, we can sow seeds of discord and create opportunities for dissent. We must engage with the people, offering them an alternative to the chains that bind them, and form alliances with those who share our vision of a liberated world.” Daenerys nodded, the soft glow of candlelight casting an ethereal aura upon Missandei’s countenance, as she acknowledged the wisdom woven within her advisor’s words. “Missandei, your deep understanding of the cultures and complexities of the cities we seek to conquer will guide our interactions. You will help us navigate the treacherous currents of politics, winning over the hearts and minds of the people.”"
This kind of sounds like the sort of stuff these characters would say, but they just keep repeating it back to each other over and over and over. Also, it’s very hard to imagine Martin describing “a strand of moonlight filtering through the window to grace Daenerys’ countenance with an ethereal luminescence.”
So I don’t think writers are in danger of losing their jobs anytime in the near future. And some pretty powerful writers agree with me: