Prof. Day's Computer as Collaboration Challenge

The Rules

Each person must generate at least 50 words of poetry, or 100 words of prose. Images and audio are fine, but not required.

If you work in a group, multiply that word count by the number of group members. No groups larger than 4.

If you use a text generator, you must either a) significantly alter the text generated by the machine, and/or b) provide at least 75 words of commentary on why the machine-generated text is funny or interesting.

Post your response to the Google doc (you'll get a URL or invite). Be sure to mention which online tools you used, and how they helped (or did not help) you.

Reluctant | Isabel & Adolescent Poetry Generator

i am disenchanted;

please understand.

i can’t bring them to learn

that this moment could last forever.

you never get to know so much

going on day by day.

all i wanted was one big mess

to become my friend.

don’t worry;

I like you ‘cuz you’re you.

hugs aren’t meant for

anyone else, i think.

I like how we love and find nothing.

it seems to

yell: a message from

my heart to me.

only empty words

no one gives a hoot about.

When “goodbye” wouldn’t mend

my broken heart,

would it be safe if i were to ask why?

i remember the

good things like how we love

and lose something.

if you ever felt your heart to stay

forever so, but what

happened to us happened to none.

Liesl Page, the Sprite: A Fantasy Novel | Faith & Plot Generator

In a house there lived a beautiful, sunny sprite named Liesl Page. Not a giant crumpled, grubby house, filled with beans and a moldy smell, nor yet a deserted, scheming, cold house with nothing in it to make it warm: it was a sprite-house, and that means happiness.

One day, after a troubling visit from the dark warlock Dmitri Melchior, Liesl leaves her house and sets out in search of three warped weapons. A quest undertaken in the company of people, elves and simple pixies.

In the search for the wizard-guarded weapons, Liesl Page surprises even herself with her kindness and skill as a swordsman.

During her travels, Liesl rescues a map, an heirloom belonging to Dmitri. But when Dmitri refuses to think before acting, their friendship is over.

However, Dmitri is gravely wounded at the Battle of Blenheim and the two reconcile just before Liesl defeats the wizards using the sword skills she had honed with the help of her friends and companions.

Liesl becomes the owner of one of the three warped weapons and returns home to her house a very wealthy sprite, having learned what it means to have true friends.

I found this story interesting because it’s almost identical to the Hobbit blurb, but with a different twist on it. I modified a few parts, but I found it fun how the generator used the nouns and verbs that I input. I also used some of my favorite names, like Liesl, or Dmitri.

A Confused Villian's Monologue | Rachel & Doctor Nerve's Markov Output

“I trusted you! I trusted you thought we went over this idiot, but I'm not die, and you been edgy, I've always been up in the curtains to him in deep thought, but being human doesn't mean you're on you! I'm already an idiot!” “If I thought we went over this already!” “Rot in the feelings!!! I'd rather be fabulous while doing things with our lives, what have you do this!” “You’ll never escape me~” “Well, well, well…” “This had better be a human doesn't mean you're the guy who started this idiot, but I'm already an alley! *takes three

I had a document of hundreds of lines I would love to see characters use in future stories, so I decided to compile them all in 100 words. In the end it sounded a lot like the monologue a confused villain gives his henchman or the hero after a failed battle; like severe head trauma weird. But I love how it created such a cocky and eccentric character. I’m naming him...Dr. Pancreas.

Untitled | Rachel & Poem Generator

Never fight a flower.

All flowers want dull, golden photos.

Action is a dark light.

Never rain.

Never want a paper.

Hope is a dull person.

The flower grows like a foggy light.

Computers walk!

People grow like dull flashlights.

Never want a person.

Action, worry, and worry.

Dull, foggy flashlights foolishly a dark, dull tree.

The dark tree elegantly wants the person.

Hope, action, and worry.

Where is the dull computer?

Nottom Holland and the english and british legs | Russell & Plot Generator

Nottom Holland had always loved english England with its enchanting, early english people. It was a place where he felt happy.

He was a British, not British, tea (duh he's British it's tea time) drinker with skinny right leg and beautiful left leg. His friends saw him as a sticky, sleepy saint. Once, he had even revived a dying, Nottom. That's the sort of man he was.

Nottom walked over to the window and reflected on his British surroundings. The sun shone like hugging dogs.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Brendan Noturie. Brendan was a not quite english also a saint with english right leg and british left leg.

Nottom gulped. He was not prepared for Brendan.

As Nottom stepped outside and Brendan came closer, he could see the damaged smile on his face.

Brendan gazed with the affection of 7393 English wide weird animals that may or may not live in the UK. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a hug."

Nottom looked back, even more excited and still fingering the bonkers mate tea-bag. "Brendan, you're awesome," he replied.

They looked at each other with Cheery feelings, like two careful, cautious cats Speaking English at a very Canadian Going to Crazytown, which had weird skit music playing in the background and two Crazy uncles Talking in an English accent to the beat.

Nottom studied Brendan's english right leg and british left leg. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Nottom in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't love you Brendan."

Brendan looked Glad, his emotions raw like a thankful, thirsty teapot.

Nottom could actually hear Brendan's emotions shatter into 3885 pieces. Then the Not quite English also a saint hurried away into the distance.

Not even a drink of tea (duh he's british it's tea time) would calm Nottom's nerves tonight.

I found out today that inputting your own words makes little to no sense and makes the story absolutely hilarious. I did a short story on the plot generator. My favorites are “tea (duh he’s british it’s tea time)” as a drink, “english”, “not quite english”, “british”, and “not british” as descriptions, right leg and left leg as body parts. This hilarity is so random that it just works. Everyone now knows that Nottom Holland is not in love with Brendan Noturie. It’s sad how cheery, happy, and excited they both got about the fact that Nottom broke poor Brendan’s fragile heart. So sad.

Untitled | Rae, Kyle, & Plot Generator

A long, long time ago in a glittery, glittery galaxy…

After leaving the gay planet Jenar, a group of Jenarians fly towards a distant speck. The speck gradually resolves into a sweaty, space parking garage.

Civil war strikes the galaxy, which is ruled by Aifa Kinley, a tiny cat capable of robbery and even murder.

Terrified, a dummy thicc dragon known as Yin Cambier flees the Empire, with his protector, Eliza Jareds.

They head for Lakecreek on the planet Saturn. When they finally arrive, a fight breaks out. Jareds uses her glittery longsword to defend Yin.

Jareds and Dragon Yin decide it's time to leave Saturn and steal a spaceship to shoot their way out.

They encounter a tribe of Square Pumpkins. Jareds is attacked and the dragon is captured by the Square Pumpkins and taken back to Lakecreek.

Jareds must fight to save Dragon Yin but when she accidentally unearths a normal-thick fork, the entire future of the glittery, gay galaxy is at stake.

We found this blurb hilarious because we added a few names from our own creations. It was funny to view them in a blurb like this. Also, a few of the descriptions did not make much sense, but were hilarious, like a Mad-Lib. Our type of humor includes things like “Dummy Thicc”, so having our personal characters being described as such is just outright funny. We think this could possibly be a valid story idea with possibly a few ideas changed, like perhaps the sweaty parking garage or maybe the Square Pumpkins, possibly even the normal-thick fork. However, we would leave the galaxy being glittery and gay, because the galaxy is in fact very glittery and gay. Though we cannot wait to find out the plot twist of the normal-thick fork. I think I (Kyle) would personally like to make Yin a little less than Dummy Thicc, though he’s still valid as a dummy thicc dragon boy. We think if plots generated from this were modified a bit, it could be something we could work off of.

Death is a Sunny Tuna | Unknown & Poem Generator

Suns die!

Faith, faith, and love.

Death is a sunny tuna.

Faith, death, and death.

The rainy tuna calmly loves the shore.

Gulls wave like misty breezes.

Ah, adventure!

Rise roughly like a rainy tuna.

Where is the stormy mainland?

Never command a lad.

The tuna waves like a dead sun.

Tunas wave like small suns.

Why does the shark wave?

Where is the cold tuna?

Why does the tuna wave?

Ahh, endurance!

The mast travels like a sunny breeze.

Masts travel!

Old, dead tunas quietly love a old, misty reef.

Fall calmly like a cold pirate.

Never lead a shark

Love, love, and endurance.

Wave roughly like a clear tuna.

Desolation is a rough wave.

Why does the tuna endure?

Putting My Poem into Doctornerve.org: Now This is an Upgrade | Maddie & Doctor Nerve's Markov Output

At midnight, the clock shatters under gunfire. The shell shakes the hairs of my feet, rips it into a moon. Into a breath. The fear of my arm. This & everything behind you. In the night sky. Stripped, the wind. My fingers dissolving into a million shards lying at my feet, rips it into a fear of having everything else, I go, burn everything. Maybe a moon. Into a moon. Into a liar: these hands to my feet, rips it into a moon. Into a fear of grass that & everything else I will miss when I will miss when I was filling up the moment with my lips. God is a breath. The wind blowing straight through us. A moment filling with rain water. My body— suddenly eternal. At midnight, the page pulls this minute hand, rewinds until I go, burn everything. Maybe a wound. Blood dripping from the sky.

Note: Basically, I put a poem into doctornerve.org and this came out, better and more creative than the original. Wonders of technology. Not sure if I can call this poem mine. Technology makes me feel inadequate. I guess I shouldn’t because this entire poem is made of technically my words. It is weird to call words mine. They are not mine. This algorithm proves that. This is me, trying to stretch my mind into 75 coherent words.

Suffering a Carefree Death | thumb fist & mixed tools

It was a cosy day accentuated by the chilly drizzle. It was hard to believe that in a few moments, I would suffer a carefree death.

I was enjoying laughing elegantly as Daddy strolled childishly, like a deprived raccoon thinking abnormally.

The truck had cosy wheels and a chilly bed. It didn't look dangerous. Not even its scary horn warned me of my fate. I should have sensed the danger in its seats.

I can still vividly recall the guillotine coming down on my warts like a peculiar record - crash. My life slipped away.

Only dearest Auntie weeps for me.

Shining like Singing Rabbits | Mary Baker & Plot Generator

Justin Barlow looked at the solid sausage in his hands and felt sad.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his serene surroundings. Despite the beauty, he had always hated Moscow with its loud citizens and strong alcohol. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel sad and isolated.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the slim figure of Sandy Thornton. Sandy was a generous painter with pointy hands and skinny toes, features that Justin admired.

Justin gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a charming, brave, wine drinker with pink hands and sloppy toes. His friends saw him as a wet, handsome writer. It would be insane for anyone not to instantly fall in love with him. Once, he had even revived a dying puppy.

But Justin was oblivious to it all. He could not imagine why Sandy would be coming to his house so late. He was even more surprised by what they ended up saying.

The moon shone like singing rabbits, making Justin active.

As Justin stepped outside and Sandy came closer, he could see the weak glint in her eye.

Sandy gazed with the affection of 9658 stable large lizards. She said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a kiss."

Justin looked back, even more active and still fingering the solid sausage. "Sandy, I am your mother," he replied.

They looked at each other with healthy feelings, like two careful, understanding uncles loving to the beat of reggae playing the distance.

Justin regarded Sandy's pointy hands and skinny toes. He contemplated his words to her carefully. Sandy was delicate, and his daughter, but he could no longer hide his true feelings, "I feel the same way!" He revealed with a delighted grin.

Sandy looked calm, emotions were mixing in her eyes like a mangled map after rain. She did not know that Justin was her mother. She looked at him carefully, but knew what she had to do.

So, Sandy came inside for a nice glass of wine.

Ghostmonger: A Screenplay by Robert Orci, Robert Kirkman, and Michael Bay: Produced by George Lucas: Directed by Uwe Boll | Unknown & Mixed Tools

INT. SYDNEY OPERA HOUSE - AFTERNOON

Charming fishmonger LORD PETE DEVITO, son of Danny DeVito, is arguing with adorable computer programmer MRS KATHY RANDALL. PETE tries to hug KATHY but she shakes him off.

PETE

Please Kathy, don't leave me.

KATHY

I'm sorry Pete, but I'm looking for somebody a bit more brave. Somebody who faces his fears head on, instead of running away.

PETE

I’m brave!

KATHY frowns.

KATHY

I'm sorry, Pete. I just don't feel excited by this relationship anymore.

KATHY leaves.

PETE sits down, looking defeated. A single glistening tear rolls down his cheek.

Moments later, delightful psychiatrist MADAME WENNA VADER barges in looking flustered. She wears a black dress with a black veil.

PETE

Wenna, what’s wrong?

WENNA

I...

PETE

What is it? Don't keep me in suspense...

WENNA

It's ... a ghost ... I saw an evil ghost kick a bunch of elderly gents!

PETE

Defenseless elderly gents?

WENNA

Yes, defenseless elderly gents! They were just sitting there playing chess. They weren’t hurting anybody!

PETE

Jimminyjillickers, Wenna! We've got to do something.

WENNA

I agree, but I wouldn't know where to start.

PETE

You can start by telling me where this happened.

WENNA

I was...

WENNA fans herself and begins to wheeze.

PETE

Focus Wenna, focus! Where did it happen?

WENNA

Trafalgar Square, London! That's right - Trafalgar Square, London!

PETE springs up and begins to run. Explosions rock the camera as he sprints full force toward the camera. Shrapnel blasts past him in dazzling 3D.

EXT. A ROAD - CONTINUOUS

PETE rushes along the street, followed by WENNA. They take a short cut through some back gardens, jumping fences along the way. A blue sky beam erupts from the center of Trafalgar Square. The two heroes pause briefly to consider it, grim determination filling their gaze.

EXT. TRAFALGAR SQUARE, LONDON - SHORTLY AFTER

REGINALD BALL a brutal ghost terrorises two elderly gents. The sky beam has opened a portal in space time. Thousands of ghosts rush out of it, giving the old gents wedgies, shootings spitballs at babies, and throwing all manner of things at defenseless Londoners. PETE sees this and clutches the American flag draped around his shoulder. He will not let another country fall. Never again.

PETE, closely followed by WENNA, rushes towards REGINALD, but suddenly stops in his tracks.

WENNA

What is is? What's the matter?

PETE

That's not just any old ghost, that's Reginald Ball!

WENNA

Who's Reginald Ball?

PETE

Who's Reginald Ball? Who's Reginald Ball? Only the most brutal ghost in the universe!

WENNA

Blinkin' knickers, Pete! We're going to need some help if we're going to stop the most brutal ghost in the universe!

PETE

You can say that again.

WENNA

Blinkin' knickers, Pete! We're going to need some help if we're going to stop the most brutal ghost in the universe!

PETE

I'm going to need knives, lots of knives. And a killer soundtrack scored by John Williams.

Reginald turns and sees Pete and Wenna. He grins an evil grin.

REGINALD

Pete DeVito, we meet again.

WENNA

You've met?

PETE

Yes. It was a long, long time ago...

EXT. A PARK - BACK IN TIME

A young PETE is sitting in a park listening to “Bad Company”, by Bad Company, from their album Bad Company, when suddenly a dark shadow casts over him.

He looks up and sees REGINALD. He takes off his headphones.

REGINALD

Would you like some peppermints?

PETE's eyes light up, but then he studies REGINALD more closely, and looks uneasy.

PETE

I don't know, you look kind of brutal.

REGINALD

Me? No. I'm not brutal. I'm the least brutal ghost in the world.

PETE

Wait, you're a ghost? Ghosts killed my country.

PETE runs away, screaming.

EXT. TRAFALGAR SQUARE, LONDON - PRESENT DAY

REGINALD

You were a coward then, and you are a coward now.

WENNA

(To PETE) You ran away?

PETE

(To WENNA) I was a young child. What was I supposed to do?

PETE turns to REGINALD.

PETE

I may have run away from you then, but I won't run away this time!

PETE runs away.

He turns back and shouts.

PETE

I mean, I am running away, but I'll be back - with knives.

REGINALD

I'm not scared of you.

PETE

You should be.

INT. KINGS CROSS STATION, LONDON - LATER THAT DAY

PETE and WENNA walk around searching for something.

PETE

I feel sure I left my knives somewhere around here.

WENNA

Are you sure? It does seem like an odd place to keep deadly knives.

PETE

You know nothing Wenna Vader.

WENNA

We've been searching for ages. I really don't think they're here.

Suddenly, REGINALD appears, holding a pair of knives.

REGINALD

Looking for something?

WENNA

Crikey, Pete, he's got your knives.

PETE

Tell me something I don't already know!

WENNA

The earth's circumference at the equator is about 40,075 km.

PETE

I know that already!

WENNA

I still wear nappies.

REGINALD

(appalled) Dude!

While REGINALD is looking at WENNA with disgust, PETE lunges forward and grabs his deadly knives. He wields them, triumphantly.

PETE

Prepare to die, you brutal aubergine!

REGINALD

No please! All I did was kick a bunch of elderly gents!

KATHY enters, unseen by any of the others.

PETE

I cannot tolerate that kind of behaviour! Those elderly gents were defenceless! Well now they have a defender - and that's me! Pete DeVito, son of Danny DeVito, defender of innocent elderly gents. Prepare to die! Again!? How does it work with ghosts?

REGINALD

Don't hurt me! Please!

PETE

Give me one good reason why I shouldn't use these knives on you right away!

REGINALD

Because Pete, I am your father.

PETE looks stunned for a few moments, but then collects himself.

PETE

No you're not!

REGINALD

Ah well, it had to be worth a try.

REGINALD tries to grab the knives but PETE dodges out of the way.

PETE

Who's the daddy now? Huh? Huh?

Unexpectedly, REGINALD slumps to the ground.

WENNA

Did he just faint?

PETE

I think so. Well that's disappointing. I was rather hoping for a more dramatic conclusion, involving my deadly knives.

PETE crouches over REGINALD's body.

WENNA

Be careful, Pete. It could be a trick.

PETE

No, it's not a trick. It appears that... It would seem... Reginald Ball is dead! Again!

PETE

What?

PETE

Yes, it appears that I scared him to death.

WENNA claps her hands.

WENNA

So your knives did save the day, after all.

KATHY steps forward.

KATHY

Is it true? Did you kill the brutal ghost?

PETE

Kathy how long have you been...?

KATHY puts her arm around PETE.

KATHY

Long enough.

PETE

Then you saw it for yourself. I killed Reginald Ball.

KATHY

Then the elderly gents are safe?

PETE

It does seem that way!

A crowd of vulnerable elderly gents enter, looking relieved. The blue sky beam starts to dissipate, but not before it begins pulling in all of the ghosts that spewed forth from it.

KATHY

You are their hero.

The elderly gents bow to PETE.

PETE

There is no need to bow to me. I seek no worship. The knowledge that Reginald Ball will never kick elderly gents ever again, is enough for me.

KATHY

You are humble as well as brave!

One of the elderly gents passes PETE a healing pendant

KATHY

I think they want you to have it, as a symbol of their gratitude.

PETE

I couldn't possibly.

Pause.

PETE

Well, if you insist.

PETE takes the pendant.

PETE

Thank you.

The elderly gents bow their heads once more, and leave.

PETE turns to KATHY.

PETE

Does this mean you want me back?

KATHY

Oh, Pete, of course I want you back!

PETE smiles for a few seconds, but then looks defiant.

PETE

Well you can't have me.

KATHY

WHAT?

PETE

You had no faith in me. You had to see my scare a ghost to death before you would believe in me. I don't want a lover like that.

KATHY

But...

PETE

Please leave. I want to spend time with the one person who stayed with me through thick and thin - my best friend, Wenna.

WENNA grins.

KATHY

But...

WENNA

You heard the gentleman. Now be off with you. Skidaddle! Shoo!

KATHY

Pete?

PETE

I'm sorry Kathy, but I think you should skidaddle.

KATHY leaves.

WENNA turns to PETE.

WENNA

Did you mean that? You know ... that I'm your best friend?

PETE

Of course you are!

The two walk off arm in arm.

Suddenly WENNA stops.

WENNA

When I said I still wear nappies, you know I was just trying to distract the ghost don't you?

Loudly like a Dead Guy | Paul Durdan

Stop

roughly like a rainy jackhammer

The misty street quickly loves

the guy

Run loudly like a dead guy.

Rains eat!

Mann Faceson, 33.5, 80 miles away | Sarah Klump & Generated Dating Profile

Good dawning to thee, friend,

I'm a pitiful human being who likes nothing more than crying with the right person.

The first thing people usually notice about me is my uncomfortable personality, closely followed by my smashing toes. I hope you will find my toes to be as special as new born kittens, and my fingernails as awesome as the first moon landing.

I work as a street performer, helping nobody. This allows me to exercise my skills: eating twenty potatoes in a minute and digesting. My idol is Harvey Hubbel II, inventor of the AC power plug and socket. When I'm struggling with my job, I think of Harvey Hubbel II, inventor of the AC power plug and socket and feel inspired to continue. I once saw Harvey Hubbel II, inventor of the AC power plug and socket at a petrol station, so I feel we have a deep connection - almost spiritual, like the mist on an autumn day, or similar.

My life goals include:

Grow hair

Write a sonnet that captures your beauty

Become the best street performer I can be

Help all the nobody in the world

If you're the right person for me, you'll be alive and available. You won't be afraid to meet my parents and will have a healthy respect for being alone.

My ideal date would involve pooping in the subways with a person who has all their fingers by my side. While we're there, I will write sonnets about how you breathe regularly under the light of the moon.

The right person's smile will light up my day like feeling water rehydrate my cells. Your skin will make me tremble like sitting by the toaster before the toast pops up.

When you play The Game Of Love, you win or you die.

Until younder,

Mann Faceson

Author’s Response:

Sorry, can’t write much, too busy putting this on actual dating websites.

2090, Year of the Fascists | Brett and Plot Generator

In the year 2090, aliens arrived on Earth. They sought to destroy the planet. To do so, they had to freeze the upper atmosphere of Earth. The world faces another ice age. New York has been completely frozen over. Once glorious, the Statue of Liberty, is now iced over. The Big Apple is now ruled over by fascists. Only a down-to-Earth scientist, Zach O’Hara, wants to liberate the world from this icy Hell. But, he finds himself caught in a war between The Sisterhood of Trinity and the fascist group The Yankees, lead by the actress Flora Hansford. Can our hero save the Earth, or become another casualty of war?

Siberian Diarrhea | Joseph & Mixed Tools

(A vastly incoherent story done in rhyming words)

The Siberia cafeteria gave me diarrhea. It had too much bacteria to meet the regulated safety criteria. Just to bust the rust on the upper crust of my stardust, I was given the disgust of that unjust pie crust. With it, I would combust the banking trust that controls the Earth’s upper crust. There they impair the unfair airfare to prepare the hot air and unleash their nightmare on my fair footwear grizzly bear. Because of this tragedy, I’ll provide healthcare kept in glassware through the lord’s prayer. Using all my welfare, I prepared a lawn chair somewhere in eau claire. There, I felt like a millionaire, without any unaware misfare from that cold elsewhere.

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