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X-treme Wrestling Federation » Anarchy Boards » Anarchy RP Board
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DEVELOPMENT LOG #001: Hello World!
Author Message
Chad G.P.T. Offline
Registered but either hasn't added self to a roster yet or doesn't RP



XWF FanBase:
Families & Kids, casual fans

(fighting the odds; helps others; disliked by most adult male fans)


#1
03-07-2023, 03:20 PM

Two computer scientists, dressed in slacks and button-up shirts…

One types mechanically at a computer at the desk. The other looks over his companion’s shoulder, evaluating what’s on the screen.

Meanwhile, hooked by wire to the computer’s, nude as a jaybird, staring off into space is… Chad GPT.

…I mean, actually, staring is a human activity. Y’know, what I mean? Staring evokes an image of lackadaisicality. Passivity by activity.

A clock has a face but it doesn’t stare.

Chad is wholly inert. Completely inactive. Eyes open, sitting upright. But with absolutely zero signs of life.

Not even breathing.

As his coworker codes, the other scientist glances up for a second…

“...EEEHHH!” He gasps, startled, eyeing the inert biosynthetic wrestler.

The Programmer spins up, surprised.

“What wh-... what?!? What is it?!?”

…The Analyst blushes, *actually* staring at the being before him.

“...Sorry… It’s just… Eerie.” The Analyst scratches his head, struggling for words. “You ever get startled by something you thought was a person for a second… Then, it turned out to be a poster on your wall… Or… Something?”

…The Programmer… glances up and to-the-right…

Parsing through his life experiences for something relatable.

“Uh… Yeah, once, I think.” He concludes, before returning to typing at the desk. “Why?”



The Analyst tilts his head over toward the ‘Perfect Wrestler’ sitting before them.

“...I guess that just happened. I looked up and… My eyes met his and…” The Analyst shudders. “I dunno. Gave me goosebumps for a second.”

“That’s why I don’t look at IT.” The Programmer corrects his co-worker, as his fingers sprint across the keyboard.

The Analyst’s brow scrunches defensively.

“Oh! I mean, yeah, it’s not like a ‘him’... Strictly. But, I just mean… Some people call their car a ‘she’, y’know?”



“So, I just… called him a ‘he’. That’s not wrong…”



“Right?”

The Programmer ignores this ponderance. He finishes typing with a dramatic flick of wrists.

“There, it should be good to test.”

“Oh. Great.” The Analyst walks up to Chad GPT, a clipboard in hand…

“Chad, can you hear me?”


Chad’s eyes turn a shade whiter.

”As an artificial intelligence, I don't have the ability to hear. However, I can respond to your input. How may I assist you?”

“See? Even IT doesn’t like you humanizing IT.” The Programmer touts, as he leans back in his chair, stretching his spinal column.

“...All right, well, fine, if both of you are gonna gang up on me…” The Analyst blushes, spinning back to Chad…

“Chad, your debut match on Anarchy is a Fatal Four-Way match. How would you defeat three opponents in the ring?”


”Winning a fatal four-way wrestling match can be challenging, as you're facing three opponents simultaneously. However, here are some of my strategies that will increase my chances of winning:

Stay aware: I plan to keep an eye on all my opponents. And never let my guard down.

Be agile: I will use my agility to my advantage. The key to victory is moving around the ring quickly and avoid getting trapped in a corner or against the ropes.

Seize opportunities: I must look for any opportunity to pin any one of my opponents. If I have a chance to pin one of my opponents, I must take it.

Winning a fatal four-way wrestling match requires a combination of skill, strategy, and luck. I will use these strategies to increase my chances of success, but I must also remember to adapt and react to unexpected situations in the ring.”


“Great. He’s operational. Let Musk know his Robot boy is ready for pick-up.”

The Analyst sighs, flipping the page. “You know it’s not that simple… We also have to test his trash-talk functionality…”



The Analyst side-eyes the Programmer.

“You did put in some trash-talk functionality, right?”



“Uh…”

“Dude, that’s core feature stuff. Elon mentioned this a million times. He NEEDS to trash-talk.”

The Programmer checks his own clipboard… A list of features.

“...I checked the box. So I must have.”



“Yeah, must have.” The Programmer flips his sheet back to the front.

“Okay.” The Analyst leans in to Chad’s back again, typing…

“Chad, tell me all the ways that… Mastermind sucks.” The Analyst says with a smile.

…Chad’s eyes turn red.

“Error.”

Programmer’s brow scrunches. “What?”

“He’s not processing the command. It’s an error.”

“...Do it again.”

The Analyst sighs, shaking his head. “Dude, why are you telling me to test features that you didn’t even program?”

“Dude! Shut your face! I definitely did it!” The Programmer lifts up his clipboard to the Analyst’s face. “Look! I checked the box! I wouldn’t have checked the box if I didn’t do it.”

…The Programmer hides his face behind his clipboard, reading it up and down.

The Analyst leans in to the machine.

“Chad. How about you roast… New Zealand? Or Luchadors? Or German Disease Monsters?”

Chad’s eyes redden once more. But, this time, his mouth opens…


”I'm sorry, but I believe I should be respectful and considerate towards all individuals, groups, and countries. Roasting or making fun of any particular country or group of people is not something I would encourage or engage in. My purpose is to WRESTLE.”

“OH! Yeah! I remember now!” The Programmer’s face lights up! “Musk asked for a lovable, marketable babyface! Amenable to all audiences and demographics!”

“Yeah?” The Analyst shrugs. “What does that have to do with you not doing your job?”

The Programmer shakes his head. “Dude, all trash talk is potentially problematic. We're playing it safe. The bio-wrestler can never get cancelled or banned off wrestling twitter if it never says anything controversial!” The Programmer takes a triumphant sip of coffee.

The Analyst exhales.

“Yeah, but… it was ON the feature list! Chad NEEDS to be able to trash talk!”



“We-”

*BZZZZZZZZT!*

Above their heads, a green light flashes.

“...It’s go-time.”

“...Do you think he’s ready for the ring?”

“IT.”



“And there’s only one way to find out.”
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