"Pixelated Mockery: The Birth of Sandra"
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Every dawn, 16-year-old Alex awoke not to the chirping birds or humming birds, but to the cathartic hum of his computer. His life was a meshwork of keyboard strokes and prolonged stare at a high definition computer screen. There, he had a universe of his own, a world of pixelated wonders he ruled without a contest. He was the god of his world, his fingers creating and destroying in equal measure.
One fateful day, his jugular pulsed with an unusual adrenaline rush. A strange game had mysteriously found its way into his computer, bypassing his knowledge. It didn't arrive with pomp and fanfare of an internet download, but stealthy like a night prowler. Alex had not downloaded it, but it sat there on the desktop, an icon with an allure he couldn't resist. Even though such occurrence was a mystery, he shrugged it off as one of those in the graveyard of unexplained internet phenomena.
Intrigued, he clicked on the game icon. It opened up a new dimension where he could give birth to a life, create a world of his choice and play as an omnipotent overseer. Pixels could be molded into life, serene landscapes or war-torn territories, tranquility or pandemonium, whatever he wished for.
In the beginning, he toyed with different ideas, planets that levitated on marshmallow clouds or cities populated entirely by replicants of himself. But soon, a change in whim made him build something gravely different.
He mirrored the details of his world into this new pixelated planet. It was an uncanny replica, right up to the discolored tiles of his room. On this carefully crafted canvas, Alex decided to paint a caricature of his world, to mock it, to spurn it.
Residence: Earth. Age: 40. Gender: Female. Character: Sandra.
Sandra, a woman of 40 years burdened by the relentless adversity of life popped up on the screen, every detail etched out meticulously. Her brown shoulder-length hair hung down, losing its youthful bounce. Her body bore silent testament to the trials of childbirth-- her breasts sagged with a weary defeat, three childbirths etched on her overweight body. Her body wore countless battle scars- thick thighs and incontinence a bitter reminiscence of strenuous births.
She seemed to be enveloped in a shroud of despair, a caustic hatred for her mundane life and an unspoken resentment for her own existence. In a twisted sense of mirth, Alex created her a mediocre mother, being ruthless in his details of her character.
As Sandra took form, he leaned back in his swivel chair, a smirk playing on his lips. His fingers paused over the keyboard, exhausted yet exhilarated. Every aspect of Sandra was soaked in exaggerated mockery. Yet, little did Alex know that this blatant caricature was only a prelude to an unfolding narrative that would make him question his own reality.
The screen flickered momentarily as if acknowledging the birth of Sandra in the game. And for an eerie moment, Alex could have sworn he saw a flicker of resentment in Sandra's pixelated eyes.
This story was generated by user dhaiejjda with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.
Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.
AI Prompts
Prompt: 16-year-old Alex suddenly discovered a strange game on his computer that he had not downloaded. In it, you could create your own world and follow the lives of the characters. Alex created a world identical to the real one and decided to create a character to make fun of it. He didn't give a damn about the character's feelings at all. He created 40-year-old Sandra, brown shoulder-length hair, sagging breasts, a single mother of three children, a little overweight, thick thighs, many diseases from age and childbirth, including postpartum incontinence, Sandra hates her life, a terrible mother. Describe everything before this moment
Response: Every dawn, 16-year-old Alex awoke not to the chirping birds or humming birds, but to the cathartic hum of his computer. His life was a meshwork of keyboard strokes and prolonged stare at a high definition computer screen. There, he had a universe of his own, a world of pixelated wonders he ruled without a contest. He was the god of his world, his fingers creating and destroying in equal measure. One fateful day, his jugular pulsed with an unusual adrenaline rush. A strange game had mysteriously found its way into his computer, bypassing his knowledge. It didn't arrive with pomp and fanfare of an internet download, but stealthy like a night prowler. Alex had not downloaded it, but it sat there on the desktop, an icon with an allure he couldn't resist. Even though such occurrence was a mystery, he shrugged it off as one of those in the graveyard of unexplained internet phenomena. Intrigued, he clicked on the game icon. It opened up a new dimension where he could give birth to a life, create a world of his choice and play as an omnipotent overseer. Pixels could be molded into life, serene landscapes or war-torn territories, tranquility or pandemonium, whatever he wished for. In the beginning, he toyed with different ideas, planets that levitated on marshmallow clouds or cities populated entirely by replicants of himself. But soon, a change in whim made him build something gravely different. He mirrored the details of his world into this new pixelated planet. It was an uncanny replica, right up to the discolored tiles of his room. On this carefully crafted canvas, Alex decided to paint a caricature of his world, to mock it, to spurn it. Residence: Earth. Age: 40. Gender: Female. Character: Sandra. Sandra, a woman of 40 years burdened by the relentless adversity of life popped up on the screen, every detail etched out meticulously. Her brown shoulder-length hair hung down, losing its youthful bounce. Her body bore silent testament to the trials of childbirth-- her breasts sagged with a weary defeat, three childbirths etched on her overweight body. Her body wore countless battle scars- thick thighs and incontinence a bitter reminiscence of strenuous births. She seemed to be enveloped in a shroud of despair, a caustic hatred for her mundane life and an unspoken resentment for her own existence. In a twisted sense of mirth, Alex created her a mediocre mother, being ruthless in his details of her character. As Sandra took form, he leaned back in his swivel chair, a smirk playing on his lips. His fingers paused over the keyboard, exhausted yet exhilarated. Every aspect of Sandra was soaked in exaggerated mockery. Yet, little did Alex know that this blatant caricature was only a prelude to an unfolding narrative that would make him question his own reality. The screen flickered momentarily as if acknowledging the birth of Sandra in the game. And for an eerie moment, Alex could have sworn he saw a flicker of resentment in Sandra's pixelated eyes.
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