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Orson Welles has been trapped in a crystal by @NoChorus and is being forced to consume and react to modern media. I decided to expose him to a few things as well. https://twitter.com/NoChorus/status/1335587899627155457
WELLES: I do not have a point of reference for the degree of this blue... mongoose was it? Its verisimilitude. It is understandable to yearn for one’s lost youth, but I found my champion in Robotnik, as only he can kill this vermin and free the audience from infantile attachment.
WELLES: The word ‘joystick’ is already juvenile enough in its lack of subtlety. With what degree of adolescent jouissance am I to shake this ‘Wiimote?’ I am now tempted to become this pervert, this ‘Travis Touchdown,’ to be free of the whole damnable question of my own dignity.
WELLES: I could never have worked with Walt, and he understood that too, it was mutual. And I begin to wonder if Nomura chose to create this game precisely because the man could not object from beyond the grave. I can just about hear his ghost now, ‘What the hell is a Xehanort?’
WELLES: I was once forced to share a cocktail table with Ayn Rand at a reception hosted by Hubert Humphrey. To think anyone would pay sixty dollars to endure such a privilege for tenfold the hours! I would sooner have been at the bottom of the ocean, I thought, and here we are.
WELLES: 'Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Batman knows.' You couldn't possibly take such a line seriously! Romero understood that. A man in a clown suit is less absurd overall than this off-brand Don Quixote who summers in the Hamptons. Why so serious indeed!
WELLES: I think fictitious sports radio is in the spirit of War of the Worlds much more meaningfully than a political rousing of millenarian fools and troglodytes. To get listeners howling with joy about a team of phantoms with a name like the Dallas Steaks: the finest treachery.
WELLES: I assume I am to find some catharsis in the fall of this purple Caesar, whose subjects are all faceless? Even in my least lucid hours, I have not dreamed of so many protagonists converging on a hollow, solitary enemy. The Avengers may as well be killing the Michelin Man.
I used the Lovecraft engine to make the language just a bit more ornate in AI Dungeon, then made a custom setting wherein I just pasted tons of the Orson Welles tweets to make GPT-3 imitate the voice. Among other things, welles_ebooks has now scathingly reviewed Ready Player One:
WELLES: Imagine being a child delighting in the mirth and acrobatics of the circus, and during a performer's flight from the trapeze, the ringleader announces some nonsense like "stalefish three hundred and sixty degrees to nosegrab!" Mr. Hawk should perhaps consider beat poetry.
WELLES: I would have much preferred to see Cagliostro in this Hogwarts, beguiling true sorcerers among his cohort with clever treachery. A swindler who gains the upper hand over the class system is a superior role model for children than yet another one of these pulp boy heroes.
WELLES: I was absolutely beaming, imagining Eliot’s increasingly anguished rictus as his creations were paraded out, one by one, each more excessively bawdy than the last. I have very little to say about Cats itself, but the film rolling in my mind’s eye was worth every penny.
WELLES: "Gotta catch em all." The young must tame animal urges, idle hands, etcetera. And bitter tragedy follows: at the end of his monastic pilgrimage, the tamer returns to visit his mother, yet her voice has become a vacant echo: "all boys leave home someday. It says so on TV."
