Letting neural networks come up with new pedal names

[iainpunk]

I wanted to know what will change and what will be the same after the pandemic. So I gave TalkToTransformer the line "The only thing that remained of the beforetimes". The resulting text was a bit too short to be conclusive so I fed the last paragraph to the input again. Lather, rinse, repeat until satisfied with the answer. The result is a semi-coherent fantasy story until it suddenly sprang CHAPTER XVI. at me. The introduction of new characters is a "bit" sudden at times. And I had to censor a word because, forum rules. Bad transformer! The sentence with the censored word is, however, absolutely glorious.

The only thing that remained of the beforetimes fortress was a small wooden cottage, where Kirito was staying as a rookie.

However, today was not the usual house that he usually stayed in.

And right in front of the small wooden cottage stood three rows of plaques, attached to the three doors of the house.

It was the 'People of the Underworld' manual.

Kirito took a deep breath. This made him recall the sword drawn inside the tiny cottage.

"I'll be honest, I really don't know much about this society. For that reason, I don't really want to hear any more about it. ...Well, what I know is a little better than it would normally be. I know the young couples, I know the young women. I can't even keep count how many of them I've seen for my job."

Ah, no. The young women that accompany Kenichi to the train station. The girls that will forever be in his heart.

"I just wanted to check, since there hasn't been any reports in the news about those.

"Anyways, isn't this one an avid animal lover?"

Her gaze shifted to the other young lady lying between them. Her round stomach and down-turned shoulders gave her the impression of a peasant girl, but with slightly curled dark hair and a firm cheeky smile. In fact she was one of the Misses. The Countess had married her off to the Count, however, he married another girl.

His adorable daughter. And as long as she was alive she could never find out that she had been fathered by a c*ck without a cover.

Beth readied her hands, but the man had no intention of standing to attention. Still the time elapses, and the Count knew that there was no telling when the other, now-irreproachable girl would turn the hint. With a sort of wistful hesitation she asked him the third time what it was that he wished to know.

"My dear," he replied, "since you are so willing to answer my questions, I will tell you what is the main reason why I came here in the first place. I wanted to give you a thousand crowns, and the reward comes directly and I shall have it in a moment, but I took the liberty of coming here in order to do it. I'll even explain to you where the thrones are hidden in your temple, my dear."

"I can't pay you any more than one hundred and twenty crowns, under the present circumstances," said Lucien. "I must beg you to spare your life. I mean to do so. I want to see you again."

"So do I," said the poor creature. "But I can see no point in saving you and tell you why."

"Only three things," said the other, and cast off the heavy cloak; "the water, the worms, and my sword."

"With your sword," said the poor creature, "can I save myself?"

The other glared at her. "All I have," he said, "is this sword, and mine gun and my spade, and no more."

"Then I take this oath," said the poor creature, "that I shall save myself, and can you turn me?"

"Why not?" said the other.

"Because I have a conscience," said Doran while absently tapping his bare feet.

"Because you said to Sam, when he was questioning you about his most dangerous moment, you knew you could not lie."

"Because you were so darn innocent then," said the smuggler, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. "How are you now? Did you have a new situation with anyone recently? Did they go after you?"

"Not yet," said Doran, his shoulders dropping as he considered the question.

"No," said Sam.

"Ah, well," said Doran, "there's one more thing. I don't even know if I'd be allowed to survive it."

"What is it?" said Argevollen.

"Curses, curses, and more curses," said Doran, thinking hard. "Does there exist a spell to make me a goblin again? Because you remember the Mandrake patch. I bet there is."

"I'll get in touch with your closest friends," said Lirin. "And we'll figure it out."

Doran nodded. "I'm going to use the portal in the Wall," he said. "And you, Argevollen, you stay here. It'll make the nightmare worth it."

His daughter was staring at him, wide-eyed, hands pressed into her face. "We have to go back."

"There's no point in leaving now. We can't afford to risk going out, either."

"We have to."

"Let's see what a bunch of rabbits can do with their swords."

Argevollen had nothing but a moment to clear her head, and then Doran was out of sight and back on the plain. The Bannermans were the first to hear the screams and rush to the aid of Doran. Arya was hardly able to comprehend what was going on in her brother's mind at the same time that she saw an arrow rush towards her. They had a brief fight, with the shock of the arrow rather helping their fragile fighting skills. They killed the stormking, but it seemed that Prince Doran had not recovered. Arya did not care, for she saw what was happening—the Silver Death did not see; when he was shot at, the armor hardened around his body, forming a shield. With a roar of anguish, the tigers roared at Fanny again. He cried: 'You aren't going to take me anywhere, you monster! Oh, oh, I've got to be a man! And if I'm not—I'm dead!' And then, as he was going to the bridge—

'You have come to a place of death, sir!' cried the tiger. 'You must decide now—your two lives are on the boil.'

'No! No!' cried Mr. Shears, 'I'm just going to manage. I don't want to die!'

'Then what would you have me do?' said the tiger.

And then, in a final agony, Fanny was about to tell him the answer when the air went out of him. He stopped breathing. At that moment, she cried, "What do I tell Louis? 'All right,' is all he will ever be able to say."

"I'll get them," said Reginald.

They all looked at each other, and then Henry leapt up, and did not rest for a minute, till he took off his own shoes and stood on his two knees and opened the dress-panty bag. It held, of course, Fanny's little purse of money, her clothes, her ring, her jewelry. He found a wad of twenty-three pound notes; put them all into his pocket and kissed her again.

"Come along, old man," said Alice, "you are soon due for London."

CHAPTER XVI.

WAR IN BEVERLY HILLS—A VISIT TO CLARE'S—A PARLIAMENTARY FUNCTION—CARTMAN, ARTHUR, AND OTHER FAMILIES—ARTHUR AT MARTIN LUTHER'S—THE FURTHER BEGINNING OF ARTHUR'S LEGACY.—THE EVACUATION OF THE KENNEBEC COUNTY RESIDENCE.

The evening of April 30, 1776, was a very fine evening. With Henry Douglas, Charles Sumner, John Han%^&*, and Stephen Hopkins, under General Washington's orders, I sailed on the Edward Rutledge, bound for Richmond, Virginia, where we had instructions to proceed on board of the U.S. frigate Fennica, to assist in his movements and to reduce the opposition of the colonists. My own departure had been eagerly expected by the people and nations of America, and the place of departure was the eastern bank of the Kennebec. At Noon on the 30th of April 1776, on the same river where I stood for the first time in the patriot cause, I drew into an open boat with its pilot John Joseph, and here I saw the face of the people for the first time. Our mission to these people was a political, and not a religious one; our only concern was to treat them as neighbors and brothers. We laid our papers at their feet, and, after a day or two of consultation, we returned to Great Bridge, on a raft made of planks driven through the planks of the boats, and having a small crew of us who acted as pilot and rower. The coast was very rough, and we had no wood on board, so we were forced to put to sea in small boats, some of which we lashed in the water, and most of which were put to sea without a light being put on. We were not aware of any mutiny, but there was an expression on the countenances of the sailors that they were tired of waiting for us, and would have been willing to go on board of us, if we had given them some board to go on board of. We sailed along as near to the coast as we could, and then at night a fresh breeze sprung up, and we went out to sea, and my ship being next to us it blew her bottom, or one of her bows in the worst manner. For this reason we soon was obliged to give up all hope of getting in before night, the tide carrying us by, and bringing us up again to the same place where we were before. This makes us doubtfully whether there is any dwelling in that country. The next day our Captain took our boats again and went upon our river, with the intention of bringing us to him in safety; but as we did not go far enough, his men on shore. They being not of a disposition to venture on the offensive in Europe.

Bousset.—Having regard to the principles on which his Lordship is sitting, and to those of the pacific Revolution, he finds no necessity of uniting with those whom he might otherwise attack; and not to select them he would at the same time expose to the risk of wounding them.

Their skill and ferocity it is necessary to exclude; and if they should agree with the design which would be formed of their joining the Ambassador, the Government would be indebted to them for the very point in which they are now opposed to it.

Young,—As I am willing to yield to the opinion expressed by all the States in this House, and agree to the plan

I wonder what would happen if someone fed the entirety of this forum into a neural network as training material and then told it to design a stompbox or ask it the typical recurring n00b questions. Half curious, half afraid of the answer...

Andy

this makes me think about what archeologists used to do in the first half of the 20th century, write a cool novel about a particular artifact, sell the book for really cheap, raise interest for the artifact, sell the artifact for expensive... profit

someone could do a book where an effects pedal plays a big role in the story and sell a limited edition of that pedal.

[Mark Hammer]

1) If Bernie Taupin decides he's made enough money and doesn't feel like collaborating with Elton John anymore, there are clearly some serious contenders in this thread.

2) I think E.O.D.E. stands for Exotically Overdressed Daughters of the Empire.

3) These days, my own pedal names and legending tends to be dictated by how many of a given letter of rub-on transfers I have left and whether it will fit.  I may have lots of the specific letter, but in a font too large for the word to fit on a 125-B. 

[EBK]

this makes me think about what archeologists used to do in the first half of the 20th century, write a cool novel about a particular artifact, sell the book for really cheap, raise interest for the artifact, sell the artifact for expensive... profit

someone could do a book where an effects pedal plays a big role in the story and sell a limited edition of that pedal.

For some reason, that put me in a detective story mood (maybe it made me think of the Maltese Falcon).  I've been having fun using this as input to the neural net:

"Dick Fuzzface," the letters on my office door read, "Private Investigator." I specialized in guitar pedals, and my city bred new stompbox trouble daily. My parts bin was well stocked, my soldering iron never cold.

[vigilante397]

"Dick Fuzzface," the letters on my office door read, "Private Investigator." I specialized in guitar pedals, and my city bred new stompbox trouble daily. My parts bin was well stocked, my soldering iron never cold.

I will read the hell out of that book.

[EBK]

"Dick Fuzzface," the letters on my office door read, "Private Investigator." I specialized in guitar pedals, and my city bred new stompbox trouble daily. My parts bin was well stocked, my soldering iron never cold.

I will read the hell out of that book.

About one in thirty tries, the neural net nails the genre perfectly with its autocomplete, describing a blonde woman entering the office or talking about organized guitar pedal crime.  So worth it.   

[duck_arse]

I'm officially never going to get bored with this stuff.  The rest of you can ignore this thread when it starts to irritate you too much. 

In the meantime, it wrote another song:

Here are the lyrics for my song, Hagfish Too:

A girl who looks like a fish......

well, time's up. I wanted to feed the beast some topic, but it is now paid-only vershun. do you have any alternate intelligences, EBK?

[EBK]

well, time's up. I wanted to feed the beast some topic, but it is now paid-only vershun. do you have any alternate intelligences, EBK?

I noticed the shift to a paid-only version as well.
I can't quite wrap my head around how to pay (the site is confusing) or whether it would still be worth it for idle fun.  Someday, I'll probably give them enough money to finish the novella I started.  Here is all I have so far (Again, I wrote the first three sentences. Everything after that is machine-generated):

"Dick Fuzzface," the letters on my office door read, "Private Investigator." I specialized in guitar pedals, and my city bred new stompbox trouble daily. My parts bin was well stocked, my soldering iron never cold. 

My clientele? Unknown to me, families of the most legendary electric guitar players had taken themselves up on my services. I'd really never heard the name of my "client." On a bright, serene spring afternoon, I entered my office. As I turned the light on in the space above my desk, the word "Gibson" came to mind.

The high-rise offices on the second floor of a contemporary building are an odd mix of the modern and the traditional. Hand-carved mahogany desks, intricate woodwork and thick curtains, it looked like a college student had stumbled into the corporate brain trust in New York City.

I waited for the client, who was a total mystery to me at the time.

[EBK]

do you have any alternate intelligences, EBK?

There ARE others.

Try, for example:
https://bellard.org/textsynth/
Doesn't seem as good though....


AI Dungeon is kinda fun:
https://play.aidungeon.io/

[duck_arse]

I entered (at https://bellard.org/textsynth/) :

Yes I'm just trying to see how far the frequency response of the Metasonix F-1 that is played through a guitar after we have removed the filter. Isn't it?

and got back:

I don't understand the question, but my friend (you know who you are) is very interested in hearing what the bass guitar sounds like before we remove the filter.

Click to expand...

and it wouldn't go further, or click, or expand.

another entry made it stick in a loop, repeating:

Sound Toys F-1 Noise Fuzz

[PRR]

I entered...

Working for me. Some hot stuff here. (Seed text underline.)

A radio was blaring out the latest composition in dissarythm, the new quarter-tone dance music in which chorded woodwinds provided background patterns for the mad melodies pounded on tuned tomtoms. The air was thick with the smell of burning rubber and the clinks and clanks of the drums. The only sound that could be heard at all was the clacking of the keys of the piano in front of the dancefloor. In the front row was an obese woman who had been in the room for the past two hours. Her skin was wrinkled, her skin was yellow and the veins in her head were protruding. She was dressed in a tight blue dress and she walked out of the room and was followed by an equally large man, whom I recognized as the manager of the dance floor. The two walked into the bathroom and shut the door, which was on the second floor of the club. They were accompanied by a woman in an ugly black dress who sat behind them in the back row of the bathroom. As they entered the small bedroom, they turned to the manager who said, "This is the manager." "You're the manager," said the obese woman. "You have no power," she said. "You can't stop that. Do you see what the boss does, how he gets us to do what he says? The boss wants us to get naked and make out. That's why the club will be closed tonight." "And that's why you'll be gone too!" "We can't help it. We have to be where the boss wants us. We can't complain." "Do you know what's going to happen on Saturday?"

[EBK]

I had to try the new AI on some song writing.  A familiar subject in this song, if you've listened to me ramble enough:

Input:

Here are the lyrics to my new song, Hagfish Blues:

Hagfish blues

They say

It can be found out here

The water's a bit rough

So you can just float away

With your Hagfish blues

The Hagfish blues

They say

They can be found just off the beach

A little bit off the beaten tracks

They say the sea is rough

So you can just float away

With your Hagfish blues

The Hagfish blues

[Rob Strand]

Winning blues.

[EBK]

Ok, I now fully approve of the new AI site.  Here is the first part of long-lost interview of Mark Hammer by Pedal Fancy Magazine (underlined part is my input, the rest is AI output). 

Pedal Fancy: Tell us how you started building guitar pedals.

Mark Hammer: Well, I always had this dream of a pedalboard with every amp and guitar. The idea was to have that kind of control over everything that could be on an amp with pedals and a rack and all that. My dream was to build a guitar pedalboard. I started with my favorite amp and I did a little bit of a mod to it with a different input and the other amp's input. And it was just a little bit of a change of tone but not so big that it was going to affect other amps on the pedalboard. I didn't get the pedalboard, and I did have the guitar pedalboard but I didn't have the pedals that I actually wanted to put together the pedalboard. So then, I decided I was going to do it the traditional way and build my own pedals. That was my first project was building my own guitar pedals. That was really fun. I learned a lot about building and building pedals.

Fancy: How much of this was inspired by the pedal market? How much was just your own curiosity?


Mark Hammer: In the beginning, I was looking for something that I could build. There was a lot of the DIY market where people could build pedals that they wanted to buy. I had a little bit of a thing like a DIY pedalboard or something like that. I really didn't do anything to inspire that. That was really the reason why I just started building my own pedals. When I would do the DIY stuff, I would build a pedalboard to play on. It wouldn't be an entirely different pedalboard from my amp. It would be like a miniaturized amp.

[duck_arse]

well it seems to know Mark quite well.

[EBK]

I'm going to tack this on here so it doesn't inevitably take over another thread when others realize how fun it is:


https://huggingface.co/spaces/dalle-mini/dalle-mini

[iainpunk]

yes, ive been playing with it for a while, have seen some really feverdream content from that thing


cheers

[Ripthorn]

I may have to try this for some of my original pedal designs...

[Fancy Lime]

yes, ive been playing with it for a while, have seen some really feverdream content from that thing


cheers

What the huh? My brain hurts. Should not have looked at this stone cold sober. Well, at least we don't need to be afraid of Skynet anymore. It's taking the wrong drugs. I've never heard anyone ranting about world domination while on shrooms. Speaking of which, Pinky and the Brain on shrooms:

As long as nobody tells the AI how to make meth, I think we're good. Oh shit, it heard that, didn't it? It's right behind me, isn't it? We're so gonna die...