Ready Player One was bad—shlock wish-fulfillment fantasy that rewards the reader for understanding fairly-basic nerd pop culture references, instead of providing any value or satisfaction derived from character, plot, emotion, philosophy, prose, or anything else that typically constitutes good writing. I say this, knowing that I should have been the target audience.
And thus it was inevitable that Ready Player Two would be worse.
So I took a few paragraphs from the free sample on Amazon, and fed them into several different AI text generators to see what would happen.
Here’s the source text I used:
Here’s what the InferKit Standard Generator gave me back:
This is just depressingly perfect.
As I paid my parking fee (The OASIS had a brilliantly integrated parking system, in which one paid for parking not once, but once for each of the virtual-reality universes it mimicked), I thought of Tony Stark, the brilliant young inventor and entrepreneur behind the Iron Man superhero armor. Having initially borrowed a few tech-industry handshakes from Stark’s old university buddies, Stark had launched the security-system company Stark Security. In fact, I would learn later, he had actually invented the Iron Man armor, and the very special superpower to which the “O” in Halliday’s trademark domain symbolizes.
Okay, Tony Stark’s also a supervillain and billionaire playboy, but that was all beside the point. He was the father of the greatest hero of the twentieth century — it was certainly true that Stark Security was the largest and most secure security-system company in the entire multiverse. So when it came time for me to make my next move, I decided I would go straight to Stark and apologize for my gaff. I left the garage and headed back toward the central mall.
The central mall was the central control center for The OASIS, in fact the only real city in The OASIS, with an estimated population of some nine trillion (although I’d heard rumors that an entire planet was left unharmed by the series of storms that struck in the series finale, thanks in part to Stark’s creations). It was perhaps the most heavily populated area of any in The OASIS — hardly surprising, considering that the amount of physical energy used to power The OASIS far exceeded the planet’s total annual energy production. (Of course, these giant servers that acted as The OASIS’s brain might eat up a fair amount of the real estate — on a graph of the energy consumption of the multiverse, it was usually at or near the top of the league table.) But even though The OASIS (and the virtual reality games associated with it) was overwhelmingly powerful, even though Halliday was an immensely rich man, even though the game’s creator had died young and suddenly, even though he’d issued his manifesto and the rules of play in the form of a hard-cover tome, the goal of the game itself was as uncomplicated as a scene from The Munsters.
Simply put, in order to win The OASIS, you just had to read the books.
In other words, read the books that weren’t already in the library, in the gift shop, or the instant-access areas, or in any of the five special places where you could get the password for access to the books — just read them, all the books, all fifty-two thousand of them. And once you did that, you were in.
There was one hitch, of course: because the books weren’t written in the first person, they weren’t self-contained in any way. If you wanted to write The OASIS, you needed to read the books. And so, in this context, books are more like the Infinity Gauntlet of the comic-book world than like any of the old cheap paperback editions we used to read, when we got to the end of a chapter, and the author’s name was at the bottom of the next one. As it was in my case, because Halliday had died, the five hundred or so literary heirs to his vast fortune and mythological stature (if he existed at all) were left in charge of the labyrinth of offices and “decks” he’d maintained throughout the multiverse (and the offices and decks he’d maintained while he was alive). These heirs were, in theory, responsible for The OASIS’s maintenance and security, and for all practical purposes, these guardians were Halliday’s virtual Peers.
It’s a funny thing about The OASIS: because of its seemingly implausible premise — it was created by a man who had literally gone to the trouble of creating the virtual world we were inhabiting — the whole thing was so intensely seductive, the mechanics of the game so fully integrated into the fictional universe, that it was tempting to stop questioning. The world had a certain level of cohesion — and stability. People were playing The OASIS.
This one starts off eerily perfect, then runs off the rails in a way that still strangely works.
It’s the only real person to watch any of the movies in person, right, I had a friend whose only source of enjoyment is seeing them happen in real time. To my surprise I never had to see them again. As he sat, playing a game of Dungeons & Dragons, he was amazed and impressed by the fact that a scene was filmed at the same time it was being filmed: a game with a number in the middle. All the pieces were still pointing in the same direction, one side of the screen behind the actual film, just as before, just as before. I was surprised to find a number that suggested such a thing. One of the things he saw was the fact that the game appeared in a way we would never see in real man-on-man.
The world of the movie.
The movie is, sadly, still a mystery to me. I can never convince my friend that she saw. I don’t know what else I could ask for. I can’t even remember how many times we saw it in the theater (although, in some of the interviews, we talked on the condition of anonymity, which was in return). It had to be this way. The movies were a big deal. It had to be this way. I even bought a ticket to my favorite theater at the very address I had set up in the movie.
There’s plenty of memories on this site of the film’s aftermath (the exact same as, if I’m being totally honest, the kind of memories the film had) but this is my friend and all that it is. I believe that I am one half of the mystery-curious population. I am guessing that in the end, we were the only people in America who were capable of learning something from the movies (that’s probably the point I’m going to make if I do it in real life too). I can go on, take pictures, and I would still enjoy the fact to have a very specific memory. It’s like a little child who doesn’t have the right words… but doesn’t want to learn them.
When I went back to see this, I was amazed to see this: it looks like they were using magic to make a small, very small child. It doesn’t seem like magic ever had been used anywhere and was not supposed to be a magic. A wizard could sit inside the big-screen with his magic wand, which seems just like a magical, it’s strange. He was surprised to find that the big-screen wasn’t even a magic wand… but didn’t want to learn them. It seems like magic never had been used anywhere and was supposed to be a magic. I can go on, take pictures, and I would still enjoy the fact to have a very specific memory. I can go on, take pictures, and I would still enjoy the fact to have a very specific memory. I can go on, take pictures, and I would like the fact to have a very specific memory. It’s a trick! You can go on, take pictures, and I could do anything and anyone wants me.
Here’s the whole of the movie “A film of a scene from a scene in a scene where the demon’s demon’s demon looks as if-a (p.the occult’s demons’ demon is) and has seen the same pattern of this film: a witch was on a witch and its demon’s demon, demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon to demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon — demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon’s demon
I gave this AI another crack at it, to see if it was, erm, less demon-y. It was simultaneously more chaotic, and more accurate.
This, after all, is the source of an old sci-fi film (yes, I could have said anything) starring one of the most notable figures in video game history. I knew this was a bit of a shock.
I would say the “greatest character” story of all time — Star Wars: A New Hope — was one we just heard.
I was not the most keen to be in touch with Halliday, but he was a fantastic actor. Well, the good one, the bad one, even if only for the first time. I am grateful when I see him, it was like the sun went down with the planets in Scorpius.
I don’t know why he has been so popular among the Gals’ fans, but I do know that this is an incredible villain.
The second comic from me, titled I’m You…
If I look now on a very close friend’s phone, after I read “Star Wars” the world has become so familiar with this man that I began to believe what he had to say. The good one, which I am a member of the Gals’ family, was “Mixed with the evil,” the worst of it. He had been fighting with his brothers, as usual. The evil has finally caught its stride.
And it does not stop there. This guy would have loved to be in the film and he was perfect as a villain, but then…
That said, there are a few who have been following along on their journey, especially the way I saw it.
The most popular person in the Gals is the guy who is in fact the most vicious and most horrible. Â I am one half of the Gals and one half the evil in the movie.
I had the pleasure of interviewing the villain at the end of the movie, as I witnessed the world in front of me. “Mixed with the evil has finally caught its stride,” I said, “It’s just a big joke.”
And I was all right. I can no longer say what the villain looks like. But I can say that the guy who is in fact the most evil in the movie also does look just like a villain.
In the meantime, though, what was not always the plot was the same — with the Gals in some form of danger and the aliens in other parts of the film looking like robots.
It was a hilarious joke. I just thought of how I did it…
I saw the film the next day, and I was like:
If this guy could do this all day for me he would.
Yes, he would be the villain.
If not, I was not at all surprised that this guy is the villain.
As it happens, this is Halliday’s favorite work, the most memorable of the movie.
I’ll confess that I was not the only one who was shocked.
There was one time — in a film called “The Last Samurai,” where the demon was defeated, not even a single human could be defeated.
Here, Halliday’s performance was such as it was, I saw the film in this way it featured an “Aunt Dragon.” I was standing here with his friend.
He took notice that Halliday had dropped his weapon and then asked him: “Should we pull this weapon out?
I guess so? That’s one of the best characters in the movie right now!
It’s an all-time movie and he will have been watching this movie.
And finally, from TextSynth:
I like how this one illustrates just how hollow the prose really is once you cut out the references (which are often the only descriptive language used). Also, it shows how the author’s teenage horniness is not so subtextual.
I opened the garage door, opened the passenger door, pushed it up, and entered the garage door myself. A second later, the door suddenly opened, and I heard “I’ll see ya later.” My head went spinning. The car was gone.
I sat back down in my seat, watching with a wide grin as she entered through the door. She stepped up behind me and got out of the car, then left the car, taking a pair of empty shoes with her. I had no idea what she was doing, or where she was going. She drove right by me in the same direction as the car and walked back toward the kitchen.
We ate cereal, watched TV, and got dressed. We went into the garage.
On the second day, she took me inside. The car was empty. I felt weird, like the whole day was just happening before my eyes. A few days later, she picked me up at a parking lot, and dropped me off in the garage.
In the late summer of 1987, I visited a friend’s house in Seattle. After talking to my mom, I went to the house. The garage door opened. She took me out and put me in her car.
“There she is! Are you home?” I asked her.
“Just in the house” she said, as she pulled away. Then she slammed the door closed, and sped away. I couldn’t believe she had turned around, and walked over. She did this many times, on my first and second visits, without stopping. I couldn’t believe it. It was amazing. The garage door closed, then shut again, and finally got open, and there she was.
She said, “Good morning, darling” as she sat in the passenger seat, watching me. She was very sexy, so very sexy, it was unbelievable. She went down to the basement, locked the garage door, and drove off in the car. That night, I was watching TV, when her boyfriend came into the garage.
By that time, the “fantasy” of having her come out of the garage with me, was all over me. She had turned around to come out of the garage, with me just behind her. But we were wearing the same shoes, and were getting in and out of them as fast as we could. She had left me there, for about 30 minutes, watching TV.
“Good morning darling, what brings you out into the house?” I asked, and she said, “Good morning baby, what brings you to the basement?”
“Good morning babe, I’m home” I told her.
I waited, as she would always do, and waited. “Good morning, baby, wake up darling. I’m home.” Then she slowly woke up and put her head back in her lap, and watched. I guess her boyfriend had seen her coming in the garage, so he left me there for awhile, and came back to see me.
She looked happy, as she watched her boyfriend come out of the garage and his car. Now, I was a little shaken, and thought maybe I could do something about this. I went up to her bed side and asked her, “I’m sure you’re very tired, how much longer will I be here?”
“I feel fine I believe, I just need to catch a train” She smiled at me. “I’m sure your home for a while, and your husband will get you something”
I felt my back against the wall, so my legs slipped up into the bed, and I felt a few waves of something in my throat. It was the usual stuff, but this was different, I couldn’t feel anything, that all seemed gone from me. “Aww,” I muttered, trying to feel more comfortable. My legs started moving, and I felt warm, and I had a feeling I needed something, but I couldn’t.
“Ohhhh my God, baby, help me,” she moaned, and put her head on my shoulder, and I felt her head on mine. She was sitting up, resting her head on my chest, and the other was lying in the bed. I had my face up, and tried to see, but it felt dark and dazed.
“Baby, help me,” She whispered, and was moving up, as she moved up against my chest, she was kissing me, her lips against mine, and her hands were on my chest, they kept moving up and down, and I noticed a thin line of something coming from my nose and mouth.
“Oh!” I began to shout, but I could hear everything about now. I could taste all the coffee in her mouth, and her voice just sounded so soft. I turned around and looked at her, but all of my sight, my hearing, was gone, and she was sitting up, her lips were kissing me, her tongue was running up and down between my lips, and she was kissing me again.
“Baby, please help me,” I choked out. The words were a whisper, and I couldn’t get them out. I couldn’t ask her why she was kissing me, or what she wanted to do, and I couldn’t get myself to try and say anything, but I couldn’t stop it either. I couldn’t tell her how to wake her up.
She sat up and kissed me again, and I was able to say more. She did the same to me, we both started to groan, and I could hear the wet sounds on the bed, the sound of the bed against the wall, the sounds of the sleeping baby against the wall, I could feel the head against my chest, and as she kissed me again I could feel the softness of her hand, and the softness of her head, against mine, I could hear her breathe and the moan of the body, the soft taste of coffee on her lips, and there was just an amazing feeling that came over me.
I couldn’t stop kissing her, I couldn’t get her to wake up, but I couldn’t stop herself either.
And then I started to be wet again, and I started to whimper. I was so wet and my pussy was so full of my juices that I couldn’t get away from her. I couldn’t get away from her and I couldn’t put anything back, but we kept kissing, our mouths touching, our breasts pressed together, our faces pressed together in the middle of the bed. I was so ready, there was nothing I wanted more, nothing I was afraid of, nothing I felt I couldn’t reach out to.
I knew what we needed, and I knew exactly what we were going to get, we needed her to reach out for me, she needed me to know that she wanted everything, everything in her body.
And yet, she never did, and I knew that she didn’t want to hear it, that we never would, that we didn’t deserve her, that we were as good as bad.
Now I’m kind of tempted to use AI to just write my own shitty bestselling Ready Player knockoff. After all, that act alone would have more inherent thematic value than literally anything Ernest Cline has written.