Plot Generator es lo que su nombre indica: un generador automático de tramas narrativas. En inglés.
En este caso, este programa destaca por la cantidad de variables que pueden parametrizarse para hacer la historia más precisa o interesante. Los nombres de los caracteres, el escenario, el sentimiento predominante, si el final es feliz o no, los sentimientos de unos protagonistas respecto a los otros, detalles sobre el escenario en donde se desarrolla la acción, sustantivos, adjetivos o verbos que se desea incluir en algún momento, comparaciones que hay que hacer, descripción de personajes, cómo debe ser el arranque de la historia, etc. etc.
Utiliza la técnica de patrones en los que se encajan, con un cierto grado de aleatoriedad, las palabras suministradas por el usuario.
El método de usar patrones o patterns puede ser más automatizado para, incluso no precisar entradas humanas y manejar un muy amplio grado de aleatoriedad. Es el caso por ejemplo, de la obra Aleatum.
Los cuentos generados permanecen sólo unas pocas horas en el servidor.
Aquí, una historia generada con datos introducidos por mí mismo, así como la portada que el propio generador crea:
Honest Emilia Prado
A Short Story
Emilia Prado looked at the fragile glass in her hands and felt sad.
She walked over to the window and reflected on her Green surroundings. She had always loved Calm Boston with its abundant, annoyed a big sicomoro. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel sad.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Tomás Calas. Tomás was a dominant soldier with tanned hands and short eyes.
Emilia gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a honest, impulsive, brandy drinker with skinny hands and tall eyes. Her friends saw her as a curvy, clear captain. Once, she had even helped a putrid old grandma cross the road.
But not even a honest person who had once helped a putrid old grandma cross the road, was prepared for what Tomás had in store today.
The cloudy teased like imagining birds, making Emilia concerned.
As Emilia stepped outside and Tomás came closer, she could see the grieving glint in his eye.
Tomás gazed with the affection of 3524 tender high-pitched horses. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want money."
Emilia looked back, even more concerned and still fingering the fragile glass. "Tomás, you have to help me now," she replied.
They looked at each other with anxious feelings, like two pongy, plain puppies caring at a very melancholic funeral, which had jazz music playing in the background and two good uncles expecting to the beat.
Emilia studied Tomás's tanned hands and short eyes. Eventually, she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Emilia in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't love you Tomás."
Tomás looked alone, his emotions raw like a long, large lamp.
Emilia could actually hear Tomás's emotions shatter into 9064 pieces. Then the dominant soldier hurried away into the distance.
Not even a glass of brandy would calm Emilia's nerves tonight.
THE END
Entradas
