They were focussed specifically on the construction of non-player characters, or N.P.C.s: simple, purely instrumental dramatis personae-villagers, forest creatures, combat enemies, and the like-who offer scripted, constrained, utilitarian lines of dialogue, known as barks. at least two of the talks addressed the use of large language models and generative A.I. The gaming industry has long relied on various forms of what might be called A.I., and at G.D.C.
There was speculation about whether artificial intelligence would erode the social fabric, and whether entire professions, even industries, were about to be replaced. OpenAI had just released a new version of ChatGPT, and the technology was freaking everyone out. That week, members of the media and prolific tech-industry Twitter users couldn’t stop talking to, and about, chatbots. Every wall or partition seemed to be covered in high-performance, high-resolution screens and monitors it was grounding to look at my phone. People roped with conference lanyards stumbled about in V.R. expo floor, skateboarders wearing black bodysuits studded with sensors performed low-level tricks on a quarter-pipe. “Try lean and nutritious grouper tonight.” “Mild yet distinctive flavor,” the ad read. As my bus pulled away, I saw that it was stamped, marvellously, with an advertisement for Taiwanese grouper. “Conferences are back,” I heard one man say, sombrely, to another. I loved making small talk with the bus driver, and eavesdropping on strangers.
Participating in public life felt incredible, almost psychedelic. I had spent the previous few months out on maternity leave, and I was glad to return to work, to have meetings, to temporarily exit the domestic sphere.
Earlier this spring, I took the bus to the Moscone Center, in downtown San Francisco, where almost thirty thousand people had gathered for the annual Game Developers Conference (G.D.C.), which I was attending as a journalist.
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