Ai Use and the Corruption of Enjoyment

In the essay, "Reading as a Rebellion in the Age of AI", by Jason Ray Carney, the author spoke

 passionately about the way he experienced a trip to Budapest, a city of soviet architecture and mal omens presented to him by people he knew before. In the telling of this, he explored an interaction with a graduate student of Hungarian History and culture, which came to be the bond between them which catalyzed an association and even a friendship. It brought the context of the gloomy city into a new light, he described it as a "pulse" within the city, lifeblood suffusing the environment, a communal happening which gave him new understanding of the city and its people. In that moment of "inverse trauma" as he and Yung describe such a thing, the understanding forms and enjoyment is shared. Dr. Carney shared with us in class his thoughts about the alienating nature of Ai and modern technology in general. Of how if he and the graduate student had not been so close  together in the nature of their journeys and rather interacting with their phones and the world outside of the experience they were sharing on that late night tram ride together, they would have missed it, they  would have left the city in its curated format, where tours would have shown him the route, he would have  not shared with her the joys of the city, the time with her friends, the kitschy butterfly woven of polyester lace in her hair. That pulse of the city, of its history, would have remained stilled for him. The city would be stuck in the definitions forced upon him by others, his enjoyment and understanding taken from him.

I am an avid nerd, my interests are strange and esoteric, and one of my favorite ways of sharing in my 

interests comes in the form of collective storytelling. Specifically, I like dungeons and dragons, in fact I 

love it. I have played for years and 5th edition in my favorite system I have ever used. But there has been a rise in a very corruptive presence in the scene, that of AI. 

Unlike the train scene, the use of modern tech in Dungeons and Dragons is a boon. 

The number of books is about as manageable as Dr. Carney's dog-eared copy of Let's go Budapest 

when accessed via a laptop, but to handle all of the source material at a table would 

require dedicated bookshelves and a sled with which to move them. Sound and audio play a huge part in

the telling of such stories, imagining a scene works well in one's head if you have the creative strength to 

do so, but music and sounds of combat that you don't have to contour yourself are useful additives for the 

supplementation of a weak imagination, and a better boon for a strong one. Sheets of paper made electronically never wear thin from being erased and written over time and again. But it is not the advent of laptop computers,

nor of the JBL speaker brought to the table which detracts from the game and the presence of those

telling the story, but rather Artificial Intelligence. As someone who knows much of the game, I have

been a good resource for my newer friends. Teaching them the ins and outs of the game, how their

characters work and encouraging them to act as they wish to without shame is a beautiful thing.

Whenever a friend of mine stands up to walk across the room to ask me of a detail they missed, that pulse

which Dr. Carney spoke of thrums through the room. The light in the eyes of a friend as they see some

secret, parse out a use of a skill, or even just interact with the story for the sake of the story, builds

that connection which I earlier spoke of. I have however noticed a troubling detail at my tables, as both a 

player and dungeon master, there is a disconnect between some people and what they see as their story.

They ask me for details that do not exist, cite articles that have never been written, and tell me I am wrong 

when a story is being told that has never before been published doesn't go as something else told them

it would. The use of Ai does something which we spoke of in class the first day, it takes from us.

To quote from the syllabus itself where our conversation stemmed from, "If AI is used to generate an alternative position, the writer will not have explored the myriads of possible alternative positions but will be limited by the artificial intelligence. Now there’s a thought, AI limits our imagination and thought process rather than expanding it." each player at the table is a writer of 

the story. Each action, reaction, each line spoken and idea voiced, is the imagination of the player 

shaping the happening of the world. AI takes that imagination and tells people that there is one way to be,

it denies exploration as it presents itself so matter of fact, and through this the people who tell their stories

lose creative control. They separate from having fun ad telling their story how they wish to, and instead 

they use what they "know" to play instead. Creativity is stifled by Ai smothered if you would. It takes

the opportunity of letting one's imagination run wild away, and leaves only misunderstood lies and made up

sources. At the end of the session I had today, we began talking about group finances and decided to

pick up some new items for the crew. Ai would have specified the "best" options to take, but instead,

the players came together and started talking it through, each player's experience intertwined with the 

others. They saw the different encounters they had and the situations they handled in different lights, they

saw the splitting pathways of their decisions and decided together, individually, to take paths they wanted. 

Not something prescribed to them, not something perfect of "meta" but rather what made sense and 

brought them happiness. The story lived in that moment, and whilst we do not have the opportunity to

travel here so often, to take onto ourselves a literal pilgrimage or to climb mountains, we can tell the stories of those events. We share in a collective imaginative consciousness that there is an journey to be had, we

share in the joy, the glory, the stress and the fear of our choices. And we make those choices ourselves.

The lifeblood of a culture, of a city, of a story, of a journey may not be so literal as to truly exist, to 

stain one's hands or to drip from some broken orifice. But that blood does surge when the journey is shared

 truly, when that which is prescribed is tossed aside, the blood flows between us, our connection 

in our shared or separate journeys brings life to the lifeless, blood to the bloodless. and joy to the 

hearts of the open. 

Our way is community, our journeys run parallel, and the place we share together that ba-makom comes

to be ha-makom. There is a holy attribute which stems from the telling of our story, and in our time of

shared journey, the lifeblood of community fills not just bodies minds, rooms, and spirits.

(Sorry for formatting inconsistency, this system is very strange, and I will learn how it works eventually)