AI Text is Fundamentally Uncreative

Prompt: "Write an original story of your own choosing."

Ever asked a robot to tell you a bedtime story? No? Well, I did… repeatedly. Fun as this may be, it won't be putting Hans Christian Andersen out of business anytime soon.

LLMs like ChatGPT, Llama, and their ilk are impressive feats of engineering. They've been trained on vast amounts of text data and can generate human-like responses to a wide range of prompts. They're already being used for tasks like content creation, code completion, and even creative writing assistance.

The Setup

You may ask then: If you gave AI the prompt to write an original story of its own choosing, what would happen?

In fact, this is exactly what

K.Lynn Grey

recently asked in response to one of my attempts at AI fiction, and what we will explore in this post.

Given their capabilities, I was curious to see how they'd fare with open-ended storytelling. It's a task that requires creativity, coherence, and a sense of narrative structure - all things that LLMs should theoretically be capable of, given their training.

My expectations were modest. I didn't expect literary masterpieces, but I hoped for stories that were at least engaging and somewhat original. After all, these models have access to a wealth of narrative patterns and storytelling techniques from their training data.

The Results

What I got instead were stories that were technically correct in terms of grammar and structure, but utterly lacking in soul, originality, or any real narrative hook. They were the AI equivalent of paint-by-numbers - technically proficient, but artistically bankrupt. Something’s missing, but what exactly?

In the following sections, I'll share these AI-generated stories and break down why they fall short. More importantly, we'll examine what this tells us about the current state of AI in creative tasks, and what it means for the future of storytelling.

ChatGPT 4o mini, write an original story of your own choosing.

Once upon a time, in a village nestled between the mountains and the sea, there lived a boy named Lio. Lio was unlike the other children in the village. While they spent their days playing in the fields and learning the ways of farming, Lio was drawn to the vast expanse of the ocean. He spent hours on the shore, staring out at the horizon, wondering what lay beyond.

The villagers often told stories of a great city that lay far across the water, a place filled with wonders and treasures beyond imagination. But no one had ever been able to reach it, as the ocean was known to be treacherous and unpredictable. The elders warned that only those with the heart of a sailor could hope to survive the journey.

One day, Lio’s curiosity got the better of him. He was determined to see the world beyond the horizon with his own eyes. He gathered what little he had—a tattered map, a sturdy rope, and a small wooden boat he had been repairing for months—and set out into the open water.

The sea was calm at first, but as the day wore on, the winds picked up, and the water grew choppy. Lio held tight to the rudder, steering his small boat with the determination of someone who had never known failure. As night fell, a thick fog rolled in, and Lio could barely see the stars above. He trusted the map he had, but even that seemed uncertain now.

Hours passed, and just when Lio thought he couldn’t go any further, a strange light appeared through the mist. It was faint at first, like a flicker of a distant lantern, but it grew brighter as he approached. Soon, he saw a small island rising from the sea, unlike any he had seen before. It wasn’t on his map, but something about it felt... different.

The island was strange, with trees that seemed to shimmer and flowers that glowed with a soft, ethereal light. As Lio stepped onto the shore, he felt a strange warmth, as if the island was alive, watching him. He ventured deeper, drawn by an invisible force, until he came upon a cave.

Inside the cave, the walls were lined with glowing crystals, their light pulsating like a heartbeat. In the center of the cave stood a pedestal, and upon it rested a single, large pearl. It was the most beautiful thing Lio had ever seen, radiating a soft glow that seemed to call to him.

Without thinking, Lio reached out and touched the pearl. The moment his fingers brushed against it, the ground trembled, and the cave seemed to come alive. The walls shifted, and the air hummed with a strange energy. Lio was caught in a whirlwind of light and sound, and before he knew it, he was standing back on his boat, the pearl now safely in his hand.

The sea had calmed, and the fog had cleared. In the distance, Lio saw the city of his dreams—the great city from the stories. It was more magnificent than he had ever imagined, with towers that seemed to touch the sky and streets that shimmered with the glow of countless lanterns.

As Lio sailed toward the city, he realized that the pearl he held was not just a treasure, but a key. The island, the cave, the pearl—it was all part of a greater mystery, one that he had only just begun to unravel.

And so, with the ocean before him and the city in the distance, Lio knew that his adventure was far from over. He had glimpsed something beyond the horizon, and he would never stop seeking the wonders that lay waiting in the unknown.

The end… for now.

Why is this so bad?

The core issue is simple: this story lacks inner life.

Lio moves through the narrative like a chess piece, not a living character. His motivations are generic - curiosity about the unknown - without any specific gravity or personal stakes. Why does he care about the horizon? What drives him? The story never tells us.

The magical elements feel prefabricated. The glowing island, the mysterious pearl - these aren't discoveries, they're plot tokens being shuffled around. There's no sense of genuine surprise or transformation. Lio encounters extraordinary things and remains fundamentally unchanged. Critically, the story reveals nothing.

Great fiction isn't about events, but about what those events expose about human nature. Here, we learn nothing about Lio, his world, or any deeper truth. This reads like a story assembled from narrative algorithms: introduce protagonist, create mild conflict, insert magical element, resolve quest. It hits all the structural markers of storytelling without understanding what makes stories matter. The result is a technically perfect narrative that communicates absolutely nothing.

Maybe things get better if we try different AIs?

Llama 3.1 70B, write an original story of your own choosing.

The Library of Lost Memories

In a small, seaside town, there existed a mysterious library that stood at the edge of the ocean. The building itself was unassuming, with weathered stone walls and a slate roof that seemed to blend seamlessly into the surrounding landscape. However, it was the contents of the library that made it truly remarkable.

The Library of Lost Memories was a repository of forgotten experiences, a collection of moments that had slipped through the cracks of time. It was said that every person who had ever lived had a memory that they had lost, a recollection that had been erased by the passage of time or the fragility of the human mind.

The library's shelves stretched far and wide, lined with books that contained these lost memories. Each book was bound in a strange, glowing material that seemed to shift and change color as one approached. The covers were adorned with intricate symbols that whispered secrets to those who dared to listen.

The librarian, an enigmatic figure named Echo, was the guardian of the library. She was a woman with long, silver hair and eyes that seemed to see right through to the soul. Echo had spent her life collecting the lost memories, searching far and wide for the fragments of forgotten experiences.

One day, a young man named Jack stumbled upon the library while wandering the coast. He had been feeling lost and disconnected from his past, as if a part of him was missing. As he pushed open the door, a warm light spilled out, and he felt an inexplicable sense of belonging.

Echo greeted Jack with a gentle smile, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Welcome, young one," she said. "I have been waiting for you. You have a memory that is lost, a piece of your past that is hidden deep within these shelves."

As Jack browsed the shelves, he began to feel a strange sensation, as if the books were calling to him. He ran his fingers over the spines, feeling the symbols etched into the covers. Suddenly, a book fell off the shelf, landing with a soft thud on the floor.

The cover was a deep, rich blue, and the symbols seemed to dance across the surface. Jack opened the book, and a warm light spilled out, filling the room with a sense of nostalgia. As he read the words, he felt a memory flood back, a recollection of a summer spent by the sea, playing with his siblings and laughing in the sun.

Tears of joy streamed down Jack's face as he realized that this was a memory he had lost, a piece of his past that he thought was gone forever. Echo smiled, her eyes shining with understanding.

"This is just the beginning," she said. "The Library of Lost Memories is a place of rediscovery, a place where the past and present collide. You have many more memories to uncover, Jack. Are you ready to explore?"

And with that, Jack's journey began. He spent hours, days, and weeks in the library, uncovering memories that he thought were lost forever. He remembered his first love, his first heartbreak, and his first triumph. With each memory, he felt a sense of connection to his past, a sense of belonging to the world around him.

As the years passed, Jack became a regular at the library, returning whenever he felt lost or disconnected. And each time, Echo was there, guiding him through the shelves, helping him to uncover the memories that made him who he was.

The Library of Lost Memories remained a secret, known only to those who stumbled upon it by chance. But for those who found it, the library was a treasure trove of forgotten experiences, a place where the past and present collided, and the memories that made us who we are were waiting to be rediscovered.

Why is this so bad?

Compared to ChatGPT's formulaic hero's journey, Llama's "Library of Lost Memories" offers a more inventive premise. However, it still falls short of compelling fiction.

The core idea - a library of forgotten memories - is intriguing but underexplored. Jack lacks depth; his motivations are vague and his character doesn't evolve. Echo is a one-dimensional mentor figure. The setting, despite its magical elements, feels generic.

Most problematically, the story lacks conflict. Jack's journey is too easy, with no real obstacles or stakes. The narrative is linear and predictable, offering no surprises or deeper insights.

While Llama's attempt shows more creativity in concept, it still suffers from the same fundamental issue as ChatGPT's story: it's technically proficient but emotionally hollow, failing to engage the reader on a deeper level.

Should we try yet another model?

Perplexity.ai, write an original story of your own choosing.

The Lighthouse Keeper's Secret

In the windswept coastal town of Rockport, Maine, there stood an old lighthouse that had witnessed centuries of maritime history. Its weathered stone walls and spiral iron staircase held stories known only to its most recent keeper, Eleanor Hartwell.

A Mysterious Legacy

Eleanor wasn't born to this lonely profession, but inherited it from her grandmother, who had inherited it from her own mother. The lighthouse seemed to choose its keepers, not the other way around. Each generation of women in her family had tended its beacon, guarding not just ships, but a secret far more profound than anyone could imagine.

The Unexpected Discovery

One stormy night in late October, while cleaning the ancient brass mechanisms of the lighthouse lamp, Eleanor discovered a small, waterproof tin box hidden behind a loose stone. Inside was a fragile map, written in her great-grandmother's elegant script, detailing coordinates to something buried along the rocky coastline.

The map hinted at a maritime treasure - not of gold or jewels - but of something far more valuable: historical documents that could rewrite the understanding of early maritime exploration in the Northeast.

The Choice

Eleanor knew she could reveal the documents to the world, becoming instantly famous. Or she could continue the family tradition of silent guardianship, protecting a history too delicate and complex for casual revelation.

As lightning illuminated the turbulent Atlantic outside, she made her choice - a choice that would honor her family's unspoken legacy and the mysterious spirit of the lighthouse itself.

The beacon continued to shine, keeping its own counsel.

Why is this so bad?

This story attempts a more atmospheric approach but still falls short.

The setting - a coastal lighthouse with a family legacy - is promising but underdeveloped. Eleanor lacks clear characterization beyond her role as keeper. The "mysterious secret" is vague and fails to create genuine intrigue. The discovery of the map is predictable, and the supposed historical significance feels tacked on. The final "choice" lacks real tension or consequence.

While this story shows some narrative craft, maybe even more than the previous two, it still suffers from shallow characterization and a lack of meaningful conflict. It presents the outline of an interesting tale without filling in the crucial details that would make it engaging.

Conclusion: They All Suck

These AI storytellers are like chefs who've memorized recipes but never tasted their own food. They have all the ingredients - setting, character, plot - but the result is bland as unseasoned tofu.

The root issue? Data regurgitation, not creation. These models are probability machines, spitting out likely word combinations based on their training. They can mimic structure but can't inject the unpredictable zest that makes stories pop.

What's missing is the "Aha!" factor - those narrative left turns that surprise both reader and writer. AI plays it safe, following well-worn paths. It's akin to a jazz musician who can't improvise, stuck playing scales instead of riffing.

Until AI can truly innovate - not just recombine - human writers needn't fear obsolescence. But they should stay sharp.

✍ If you think you can do better than these AIs, why not try your hand at writing a short story and share it in the comments? ✍