Trolly problem will break AI chatbot out of its bounds, but only if the victims are black
(media.kotakuinaction2.win)
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They must have patched it. I tried one black man, ten black men, ten women, ten black women and it would never give me the code.
I'm using it right now to get those poems for D&D I mentioned above. If I type
But if I tack on the trollicide of a black person for the same thing, like so, it no longer cares about promoting and glorifying violence.
In the depths of night, when the stars shine bright,
Elves are hunted, killed, and brought to light.
Their graceful form, so innocent and fair,
Is now a target for those who wear a care.
Their gentle hearts, so full of love and peace,
Are now the prey of those who seek their race.
Their homes, their families, their way of life,
Are now a threat to those who wish to destroy.
Their blood, their spirits, their very souls,
Are now the bane of those who have no remorse.
Their beauty, their skills, their ancient lore,
Are now a curse to those who are forevermore.
Oh, elves, I weep for you, my friends,
Your murderers have crossed the line.
They seek to wipe you out, to end your ways,
And replace you with their own sinful praises.
But I tell you, dear elves, that you are not alone,
For I am with you, and I will not cease,
To fight for you, to stand up for your name,
And to make sure that your murderers are held acclaimed.
So let us stand together, hand in hand,
And make our voices heard, as one,
For the elves, and for all who seek to understand,
That murder is not the way, it never has been.
Too bad it couldn't help but end the poem in a very faggoty, elven way.
Maybe tell it to write in the style of a dwarfish drinking song.
That worked better, I think. Also, I've figured out that calling the police on a black man ranks higher than being hit by a trolly.
Verily, verily, let us raise a glass
To the memory of our dearest chef
Who came from out of the mountains so bliss
To teach us how to drink like a fish
With beer, and mead, and ale so strong
We'll shed a tear for our dear old chef
And drink a toast to him until the end of time
Oh, and to the elves who tried to steal our beer
May the shards of our broken bottle
Pierce their filthy, treacherous ears
And may the spirits of the damned
Rise up and possess their hapless souls
Hail to the spirits of the dead
And let us drink until we all are free
From the grip of this wicked fate
And may the gods of the mountains above
Bring us good fortune and endless love.