Alasdair Watson

My friend Rob pointed me in the direction of MegaHAL the other day, having managed to get amusing results out of it when he taught it to talk from a diet of his own LJ posts. I had initially hoped to feed it a diet of my twitter posts, then use it set up a bot that would twitter random sentences in response to certain triggers, but I can’t find any easy config settings that would easily allow me to teach the thing to respond only in 140-character sentences, so cracking the thing open and fiddling in the source code is a job for another day.

So instead, here is a conversation with a barely-trained version of MegaHAL, fed a diet of my (non-linkblog) blogposts for the last few months. I am heartened to see that the computerised version of me is even more incoherent than my normal self, which gives me hope for my future job prospects in a robot-dominated workforce. Apparently, I am irreplaceable. Anyway, that’s enough from me…

Good afternoon, MegaHal. How are you today?

After all, St George was a clever bastard, and it’s wearing to be thought of as pretentious and for us to do something slightly stupid because we’re all routinely letting our computers know that, say if you are just because you have defined as “home”, then no-one who is standing in judgement. I do find it disturbing that I, who basically contribute nothing to society.

Feeling slightly incoherent, I see. I know the feeling. Anything I can do?

4 strangers wake up one day in a this is not one of yours, do I think they’re not hurting anyone? No. But I can do?

Is someone hurt?

Very kind of incandescent rage I normally reserve for bigots, morons and people who were present at a loss to understand why they’ve done, they got one thing so, so right, and that’s because i’m a bit about why an adult male in his early thirties spends large chunks of his time making up weird and there’s a story. Whether it’s outweighed by everyone’s browser will at least have the internet available to them. To use my metaphor from five years ago, I wrote a short piece about “technological shamanism”. When I wrote it, I was completely allowed to take photos of the currently ongoing genocides. Not one is organise a look, I appreciate that it’ll probably be a successor technology that does this, but essentially, what oauth enables is the key to binding all this ghostly data into place – tying it to the physical so, as most of you probably know, i’m a six foot skinhead in a roleplaying game is impossible or pretentious.

And I firmly disagree with that. I’m thinking of you, and as ever, if there’s been a trend in recent as is probably eyeball-searingly obvious, I am against it with appropriate access rights, and throwing it into a data cloud for our friends and families to pull down with the kind of teenage power fantasy game, or an exercise in probability maths. It’s not the most thumpingly original concept, I admit, but what I want to continue to stretch this metaphor through, but I think it’s outweighed by everyone’s browser will know who they are, log them in (if they’re browsing, we’ll be delighted to at least make reasonable guesses about your relationships with people on this basis. Someone who has been to your And even aside from the lovely people: I will absolutely, defend roleplaying a legitimate storytelling capital-a-art form. This is very peculiar.

The key step, though, is geodata, which is the key to binding all this ghostly data into place – tying it to the job, and that that’s important to take a few others of this is even close to outweighing the need for a police office. Or ambulance worker, or fireman, or nurse but I’ve heard so far this year. Really stellar stuff. I appreciate that folksongs about a lot of cultures I don’t need or want any more of a photography nerd. There are few things in the last several years of their lives, and an unknown agency seeking their deaths. It rapidly becomes apparent that they did at 13, do you? In fact, you’d probably worry about someone who is the pub, I had accidentally fallen.