Between the technology community’s love for efficient generative AI and the art community’s apprehension of generative AI, there is a fundamental question the world currently faces. Why should an artist like, endorse, or feel attached to an AI output?
I made this, versus it made this.
Instead of trying to understand the feelings of a grown-up adult, let’s try to understand the feelings of a 6-year-old. The six-year-old reads bright-colored books with pretty drawings, watches cute cartoons, and gets to spend time with some adults who are generally more coordinated and creative than they are at the time. They could ask them to “Make me an image of a teddy bear,” but they don’t. They pick up some crayons and a sheet of paper and mess around with them till something they call a teddy bear gets created. They show it to their parents, their friends, any relatives who visit, and even display it on their refrigerator. If they could have asked a GPT to make it, and then it would have spit it out, would the attachment be the same? The world is divided on it. Some kids are getting exposed to tools like ChatGPT and Midjourney. When they enter a text prompt, and the output comes, they actually demonstrate ownership by saying, “I made this.” Some other times, their response is more on the lines of “It made this.
Let’s look at another example. In the world of products, a designer looks at an entirely made product and claims I made it. This is even though they had not written a single line of code to make that product happen. They say that because they put in the thought of what needs to be made. The engineers are the ones who actually make it.
The attachment towards anything comes from ownership. If we feel that we have meaningfully spent time, effort, or money to acquire something, then it is valuable to us. We feel an attachment towards it. The concern or problem with AI-generated output is that it asks for too little of my originality to produce something original. Even though the production may feel or seem original, the source of the originality is NOT me. Thus, when I show an output, I feel like I get to say “look, what ChatGPT made” instead of me saying “Look what I made?”
The soul versus craft debate:
The fundamental problem with creation becoming easier is that, in the duel between soul and craft that goes into creating any artwork, craft is increasingly winning. This is leading to creators and appreciators feeling fatigue towards art forms. The videos are starting to feel repetitive, films are beginning to feel the same way, and so are we concerned about the games.
Generative AI is basically all the craft loaded on steroids. It can even simulate having a soul. Whether it actually does have a soul is a debate for another day. But with a powerful tool that is highly efficient in craft, it may become difficult to maintain your soul as the driving principle.
What are our options?
The concern is valid. For any art form, we do NOT want to consume soulless material or an iterative copy of the past, but looking the other way towards Generative AI or trying to stop it is NOT an option. Technology always finds a way in. Our goal should be to figure out how to bring it in constructively.
Our initiative at Pikoo
At Pikoo, we understand that the uniqueness and relatability of AI-generated artifacts come from the humans who are creating using those tools. And we intend for our AI to be the best tool to help you refine your vision and bring it to life with minimal friction. The users’ identity, their soul, almost always makes a game unique to them. This is something we talk about in our blog: the five elements that make a successful game.
We want to create a place where AI becomes the best partner in making a game and does NOT overtake your creativity. Your creativity, your personality, and your stories are the ones that should shine in all AI games created on Pikoo.
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