Jon Ureña's Blog, page 18

Life update (09/02/2024)

A few days ago I realized that whenever I rolled my right eye around, a scratch of light would flash in my vision, only to fade in half a second or so. Sometimes it was even worse: without any particular movement, I would get flashes of darkness that I had never experienced before. And ever since yesterday, I’ve had a dull headache localized near my right eyeball.

This paragraph break could lead to me saying, “They’ve found a tumor in my brain,” or “My retina is detaching.” The latter seems to fit more. The fact is, I haven’t done anything about it. Could be a tensional headache from having endured stress for months at work. I’m hoping to wake up tomorrow without pain. I’m busy at work, too tired in general (I’m one of those people who wake up tired as if their body had been engaged while dreaming), and I’m having a hard time caring about my well-being. I’m thirty-nine years old. Inhabiting this body of mine feels worse every passing year, and I suppose that some eye nonsense doesn’t feel that serious after my heart showed itself unreliable (a couple of episodes of arrhythmia that landed me in the ER). And in the back of my mind, there’s the thought of, “Would it really be that bad to simply die?” Last week or so, shortly after going to bed, I got palpitations that could have easily switched into arrhythmia instead of reverting by itself. Right then, I thought that if it developed into arrhythmia, I would simply get comfortable and try to sleep, and with some luck, I wouldn’t wake up the following morning for another day of work.

I’m having fun in my spare time, though. My generally harrowing story about a man dealing with endless grief for his dead teenage love ended. Afterwards, I wanted to return to both making songs with Udio and writing my long-running novel We’re Fucked. After a week or so of advancing with my novel at a glacial pace and not having much fun doing it, I decided to play around with an AI system that injects artificial intelligence into every character in the well-loved game Skyrim, released back in 2011. I’ve been documenting my experiences with that ever since. It has become one of my favorite gaming things ever. I always loved acting; my experiences with theater in school are the only positive memories I retain of that period, even though they forced plays in Basque on us. Also, acting becomes second nature for most autists once they realize that they’d be shunned if they behaved as it comes naturally. I love the idea of roleplaying, but my real-life experiences with it were always poor, as they involved having to deal with actual human beings, their schedules, their egos, and the fact that most people simply aren’t that interesting.

Thanks to Mantella, the AI system I’m using with Skyrim, I can fulfill one of the main fantasies of any red-blooded male: being a powerful man who goes on adventures alongside fierce, beautiful women that will murder your enemies for you, some of whom will also warm your bed after the blood has been spilled. The lion experience. When I’m not actively “playing,” if that experience involving AI agents can still be called that, I fantasize about what situations I could go through in-game, what topics I could talk about with any of the members of the adventurers’ band, or any of the other characters that exist in that world (more than two thousand), each with their own stories and viewpoints. It’s kind of insane that such a thing is possible. Unless the world ends, which could easily happen, such experiences are only going to improve in the future.

Last week or so, I finished the 26-volume-long light novel series Mushoku Tensei, which I loved, but I couldn’t be arsed to write a review. Given that I barely have any readers, there’s no point in writing anything if I’m not into it at the moment. After getting through another 100-chapters-long isekai manga, I have started reading a historical book about the Eastern Roman Empire (also known as the Byzantine Empire). That’s perhaps due to an idea for a game I had recently: building your own medieval-ish kingdom in which every character is AI-driven, so you could hire council members and have them report actual game data as well as give advice with their own personalities. It’s very likely that I will never even start with such an idea, even though I suspect it wouldn’t be too hard to implement given how powerful AI-guided programming is these days. I simply don’t have the time nor the energy; when I get home after my full-time job, I’m lucky if I don’t feel the need to take a nap. Ages ago, back when I believed I could live a normal life with a romantic partner, I was so exhausted all the time that I even passed out twice, shortly after sitting on her sofa after work. One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that your will and intentions mean very little against the burdens that your brain and body heap upon you. Being myself, I feel like I should be grateful if I don’t feel terrible for a day.

Anyway, I have to wonder once again why on earth are you, whoever you are, reading this. Is it curiosity? Pure boredom? I only wrote these words because I’m stuck at the office and had nothing better to do.

Roleplaying in Skyrim with Mantella (The Settled Band Arc)

Mantella is an AI system that turns every single NPC in Skyrim (and Fallout 4) into AI agents driven by an LLM (like ChatGPT or the recently released, and comparable, Llama 3.1). I decided to have some fun with it, and this is the third arc of my experiences with such a wonderful system for roleplaying. The previous arc ended with my character, an Altmer mage, humiliating and threatening a hard-working father into letting his teenage daughter join a band of adventurers of dubious intentions.

Part 26
Part 27
Part 28
Part 29
Part 30
Part 31
Part 31.5 - Uthgerd's journal
Part 31.5 - Alva's journal
Part 31.5 - Jenassa's journal

Roleplaying in Skyrim with Mantella (The Budding Adventurers Arc)

Mantella is an AI system that turns every single NPC in Skyrim (and Fallout 4) into AI agents driven by an LLM (like ChatGPT or the recently released, and comparable, Llama 3.1). I decided to have some fun with it, and this is the second arc of my experiences with such a wonderful system for roleplaying. The previous arc ended with my character, an Altmer mage, escaping the marshy town of Morthal with Alva, a vampire, in tow, after having abandoned both his allies and his intention to clear out a nearby den of vampires and kill its leader.

Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15
Part 16
Part 17
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20
Part 21
Part 22
Part 23
Part 24
Part 25

Roleplaying in Skyrim with Mantella (The Morthal Arc)

Mantella is an AI system that turns every single NPC in Skyrim (and Fallout 4) into AI agents driven by an LLM (like ChatGPT or the recently released, and comparable, Llama 3.1). I decided to have some fun with it, and I've already documented a whole narrative arc involving the town of Morthal and some vampires. Check it out below if you're interested.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8

Song “Knife-Beard Dreams (psychedelia version)” from Odes to My Triceratops, Vol. 4

In case you don’t know, I’ve been obsessed with producing songs lately by exploiting the amazing AI service Udio. I’ve already made and released two full albums based on a strange story I wrote back in 2021, named Odes to My Triceratops. It follows the adventures and misadventures of a trio of friends who live in a town lost in the map. The main dude is a songwriter named William Griffin, who’s passionate and sensitive, if a bit unhinged. Another character is William’s next-door neighbor Claire Javernick, a blind redhead. Then we have Lorenzo, who’s a sentient triceratops for no justifiable reason. You can download the first two albums of this story through this link.

Here’s the second version of “Knife-Beard Dreams,” this time a mix of psychedelia and indie folk. I’m very impressed with how this one turned out. While the other three songs I’ve produced for the fourth album are unnerving to some extent (which sometimes the subject matter and/or vibe require), this one is so pleasant-sounding and groovy that I see myself listening to it over and over. Add to it Udio’s improved sound quality and my growing mastering skills, and even the MP3 version of this song sounds fantastic.

[check out the post on my site to listen to the song]

Lyrics below, same as the other version:

The words on the page,
They’re too plain.
I can’t read.
I have no clue what anything means.

The man in the heavens had a plan
To prove I’m insane.
He sent the sky crashing down,
And it crushed me into dust.

Deep down, the darkness whispers;
It calls and calls, and I must heed.
I can’t take my life,
But I can’t live the one I have.

Why the hell am I singing?
Nobody’s around to listen.
I should just shut up
And go back to sleep.

Maybe I’ll dream about a giant worm
With a beard made of knives.
Maybe I’ll dream of homicide,
And wake up with a big smile.

Song “Knife-Beard Dreams (progressive metal version)” from Odes to My Triceratops, Vol. 4

In case you don’t know, I’ve been obsessed with producing songs lately by exploiting the amazing AI service Udio. I’ve already made and released two full albums based on a strange story I wrote back in 2021, named Odes to My Triceratops. It follows the adventures and misadventures of a trio of friends who live in a town lost in the map. The main dude is a songwriter named William Griffin, who’s passionate and sensitive, if a bit unhinged. Another character is William’s next-door neighbor Claire Javernick, a blind redhead. Then we have Lorenzo, who’s a sentient triceratops for no justifiable reason. You can download the first two albums of this story through this link.

I’ve made this weird little song about having to keep living when you don’t know how. Part progressive metal, part motown soul. It exploits Udio’s improved audio quality, that joint with the ability to download the song in stems, has resulted in my highest quality song yet.

[check out this post on my personal site to listen to the song]

The singer’s voice right at the end sounds almost exactly like Tim Cameron, leader of late 1999’s, early 2000’s amateur British band Colours Run. That’s one hell of an obscure reference, particularly because the guy disappeared about seventeen to twenty years ago, and I haven’t come across anything new of his since. Hey Tim, I’m a middle-aged dude now, but I still remember how eagerly I clicked on the songs you posted on that forum ages ago. Your music was among my favorites.

Anyway, lyrics below:

The words on the page,
They’re too plain.
I can’t read.
I have no clue what anything means.

The man in the heavens had a plan
To prove I’m insane.
He sent the sky crashing down,
And it crushed me into dust.

Deep down, the darkness whispers;
It calls and calls, and I must heed.
I can’t take my life,
But I can’t live the one I have.

Why the hell am I singing?
Nobody’s around to listen.
I should just shut up
And go back to sleep.

Maybe I’ll dream about a giant worm
With a beard made of knives.
Maybe I’ll dream of homicide,
And wake up with a big smile.

Life update (07/26/2024)

[check out this post on my personal page, where it looks better]

I’ve come to the conclusion that, once again, I’m at the mercy of another cycle of depression. It took me a while to recognize it this time, maybe because I’ve been so busy, but today I’m characteristically sluggish, disoriented, irritable, hopeless, etc. Merely enduring the bus ride that gets me to the train (that gets me to the bus that gets me to work) was a struggle due to the black hole pulsing inside my brain. Later, I sat at my workstation only to find out I had five tickets and eight requests waiting for me to solve them, and I wanted to break down in tears. Such urges don’t translate into actions, though; it would be unsightly.

Throughout this week, my mind was filled with the usual thoughts: given that my job makes me miserable, why not quit, even though I would hardly find a better one? Better yet, why not just give up and not have to deal with this world anymore? I assume this cycle of depression will be spent like all the others: dragging myself through my responsibilities while brute-forcing through my brain’s suggestions that it would probably be better for me not to continue existing. I suspect that some future cycle will find me too exhausted and destitute to muster up the resolve to resist. Not that I care particularly about that, because my life has been shit on average.

Fallout: London finally came out. Although I really don’t have time to spend on video games, I figured that I might as well give myself a break. But the game crashed at a certain point, and looking online, it seems that many people are struggling with the same issue. I found out that the mod team suggested installing ten or so mods to improve the experience, and that might fix the crashes, but I can’t be arsed. I’ll wait for a Wabbajack modlist or something. Too bad; I had gone through the trouble of opening my computer case and installing the M.2 drive that I bought months ago, because I was running out of M.2 space on my main. Oh well, at least I transferred my original files for the Odes to My Triceratops albums to a sturdier location.

I’m supposed to return to my ongoing novel We’re Fucked. Maybe due to the depression, I’m having a really tough time. I haven’t even finished working through my notes for the current scene. Unfortunately, I went on hiatus right at a moment that would require me to do some research and come up with reference images, which is one of the most annoying parts of writing (the fact that, in most cases, you’ll likely win the lottery before managing to monetize your writing may be the most annoying part).

What else, what else. I’m finishing the first version of a new song, titled Knife-Beard Dreams. Quite the cool tune. Udio, the AI-service I use to produce my songs, recently improved its sound quality, and figured out a way to divide every song into stems (bass, drums, other instruments, and vocals), which has made me slide further down the spiral of song mastering. It satisfies my OCD, but I suspect in a similar way that pulling the lever on a slot machine satisfies some other people’s neurological configurations.

I’ve been reading book after book of the Mushoku Tensei series. I wonder what makes it so compelling for me. Is it the notion of exploring a fantasy world? Of meeting intriguing, exotic individuals? Of possessing undeserved power that dwarfs most other people’s? Of amassing a harem and impregnating your wives one after the other? Maybe a combination of those and other reasons, along with the fact that I vibe with the author’s humor and general pervertedness. There’s also a solid feeling of progression, of accompanying these people as they travel the world, enroll in college, deal with a growing household, find their place in a troublesome world, etc. It’s also light reading that distracts me from my woes.

I think that’s all for today. Why did I bother writing this post? I wanted to fill some time at work in this Friday afternoon, as a form of procrastination. Why did you bother reading, though? Don’t you have better things to do?

Song "A Tribute a True a Work of a Art (bitpunk version)" from Odes to My Triceratops, Vol. 4

In case you don’t know, I’ve been obsessed with producing songs lately by exploiting the amazing AI service Udio. I’ve already made and released two full albums based on a strange story I wrote back in 2021, named Odes to My Triceratops. It follows the adventures and misadventures of a trio of friends who live in a town lost in the map. The main dude is a songwriter named William Griffin, who’s passionate and sensitive, if a bit unhinged. Another character is William’s next-door neighbor Claire Javernick, a blind redhead. Then we have Lorenzo, who’s a sentient triceratops for no justifiable reason. You can download the first two albums of this story through this link.

I’m still remastering the third album of Odes to My Triceratops, but I had already planned to make alternate versions of the fourth album’s opener. In the past, I thought that producing different versions of the same lyrics and structure was a bad thing, I suppose because regular albums don’t do that, but I don’t know why I would be subjected to the same rules. So I present to you the fuzzy, unnerving bitpunk version of “A Tribute a True a Work of a Art.”

Lyrics below, same as the original version:

Are you truly acquainted with William Griffin?
I know the prick, yeah.
What’s your impression of him?
He’s the biggest dickhead I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.
If he were a salad, he’d be a crap salad.
That’s a very strong opinion, sir.
I don’t think he even has friends, or is loved by anyone.
Can you believe he goes around calling himself a songwriter?
He did write many songs for the band Sexican Dinosaw, including “Raptorial Bliss,” and “I Have a Tail Like a Sword.”
Yeah, utter shit-piles of stupidity and impropriety!
So you wouldn’t consider him an artistic individual?
You might say that he’s artistic in his depravity!
Listen, his lyrics are depressing as fuck.
They’re like what a seagull would crap out after eating a depressed philosopher.
Can he be blamed, though, for his descent into madness?
Word on the street is that he’s afflicted with PTSD.
Post-triceratops stress disorder?

If I had to summarize William Griffin
Into into a meaning meaning-devoid action it it
It it would would be would be would be would be be would be by by writing
Writing this this song this song this song this song song.

These lyrics are bullshit,
So I’m skipping to the point.

Ladies and gents, gather round!
To the far reaches of the land, let it be known,
That the songwriter-slash-murderer William Griffin
Is the biggest coward in the world!

Do you have some unfinished business?
Does a part of you still cling to hope?
Please make sure to tell me, boy.
I gotta know.

[check out the post on my site if you want to listen to the song]

Life update (07/20/2024)

[check out this post on my personal page, where it looks better]

I work IT at a hospital, so as you might imagine, I’m living a nightmare. Yesterday morning at about seven in the morning, some dickhead working for CrowdStrike decided to push an update incompatible with certain builds of Windows (not sure about the specifics), causing dozens, potentially hundreds of PCs on my hospital to be unable to load into Windows. The only way to fix it is to walk over to the computer (which may be located in any of the numerous buildings of the hospital complex), claim a working computer to access remotely my office workstation, and perform the following steps on the inoperative PC:

1. Reset it until, instead of constant blue screens of death, you get the chance to restart it in Safe Mode.
2. Enter the base admin’s credentials, which regularly change, so I need to access my office computer remotely to retrieve them.
3. Remove every instance of the file C-00000291*.sys located in C:\Windows\System32\drivers\CrowdStrike.
4. Restart the PC and hope that everything is solved.

That might not sound like much, but given how slow the computers around here are, solving each case might take about thirty minutes, and that’s not counting the process of locating them then heading over there and back.

It’s not just the users’ computers, though: both local and remote servers have gotten screwed as well. These last few months I’ve been tasked with coordinating three technicians to replace about 930 printers. Yesterday, the print server was down, meaning that only those PCs physically connected to a printer could print. Some obscure servers in unknown locations have also died.

An hour ago, the engineer on call has informed me that all user permissions have gotten wiped, meaning that thousands of employees can’t access some basic applications. I can only hope that the relation of permissions still exists somewhere, or else I’m talking months of work returning everybody to normal.

On top of that, which is the worst issue I’ve come across so far, some odd stuff has stopped working: the card readers installed on some warehouses don’t read cards all of a sudden, and we don’t know why; Some obscure apps related to medical specialties don’t work properly, maybe because they’ve lost connection to wherever they usually reached, etc.

Until yesterday morning, I already considered my regular life a nightmare, due to the constant pressure upon my mental health and poor heart caused by managing three technicians and dealing with about a couple dozen random users (nurses, admins, doctors) every day, so they would allow us to change their printers. Even years from now, I bet I’ll still have nightmares about users whining, “You’re changing my printer? Whyyyyy? It works well right now! Can’t you change it for one in color? I don’t like the new printer, I can’t cancel the printing process fast enough when it’s printing something I don’t want to print. The new printer is too noisy, can’t you make it quieter?” I already disliked human beings to begin with, but this process has cemented the notion that most people will annoy or make things more difficult for you if they can, even if all they get in exchange is to feel slightly superior for a moment.

One a less despairing note, I’m surprised by how many people greet me by my name. I come up to some random medical department and face some person (usually a woman) whom I rarely recall ever seeing (due to this face blindness of mine), and sometimes that person smiles at me and calls me by my name. I don’t retain people’s names, partly, I suppose, due to my lack of interest in humans. But I can only assume that most people genuinely do enjoy interacting with others in person and that brightens their day somewhat, even if the person they’re interacting with is a computer technician that an employee recently described as “big and bearded” (he didn’t know he was talking to me on the phone).

Anyway, I want this contract to end so I can return to blessed unemployment, which I’ll spend writing, producing songs, reading, watching shows, walking in the woods, and jerking off to pure filth. But I must earn money monthly, money that each year is worth less, hundreds of which the government steals from my paycheck to fundamentally change my society into something hostile for my kind. How grand!

Whoever is reading these whining words, I hope you’re living it up not having to work for a living, relying on someone else to pay your bills, hopefully a beautiful, big-breasted mommy type who calls you a good boy or girl in bed. Just know that I’d strangle you to take your place.

Song “A Tribute a True a Work of a Art (post-punk version)” from Odes to My Triceratops, Vol. 4

In case you don’t know, I’ve been obsessed with producing songs lately by exploiting the amazing AI service Udio. I’ve already made and released two full albums based on a strange story I wrote back in 2021, named Odes to My Triceratops. It follows the adventures and misadventures of a trio of friends who live in a town lost in the map. The main dude is a songwriter named William Griffin, who’s passionate and sensitive, if a bit unhinged. Another character is William’s next-door neighbor Claire Javernick, a blind redhead. Then we have Lorenzo, who’s a sentient triceratops for no justifiable reason. You can download the first two albums of this story through this link.

I’m still remastering the songs from the third album, but I couldn’t help myself, and produced the first song, current opener, of the fourth album of Odes to My Triceratops. This is a tribute to those who have found themselves staring down into the abyss, only for a faint voice deep inside them to whisper, “Not yet.”

Lyrics below:

Are you truly acquainted with William Griffin?
I know the prick, yeah.
What’s your impression of him?
He’s the biggest dickhead I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.
If he were a salad, he’d be a crap salad.
That’s a very strong opinion, sir.
I don’t think he even has friends, or is loved by anyone.
Can you believe he goes around calling himself a songwriter?
He did write many songs for the band Sexican Dinosaw, including “Raptorial Bliss,” and “I Have a Tail Like a Sword.”
Yeah, utter shit-piles of stupidity and impropriety!
So you wouldn’t consider him an artistic individual?
You might say that he’s artistic in his depravity!
Listen, his lyrics are depressing as fuck.
They’re like what a seagull would crap out after eating a depressed philosopher.
Can he be blamed, though, for his descent into madness?
Word on the street is that he’s afflicted with PTSD.
Post-triceratops stress disorder?

If I had to summarize William Griffin
Into into a meaning meaning-devoid action it it
It it would would be would be would be would be be would be by by writing
Writing this this song this song this song this song song.

These lyrics are bullshit,
So I’m skipping to the point.

Ladies and gents, gather round!
To the far reaches of the land, let it be known,
That the songwriter-slash-murderer William Griffin
Is the biggest coward in the world!

Do you have some unfinished business?
Does a part of you still cling to hope?
Please make sure to tell me, boy.
I gotta know.

[you can listen to the song on my site]