Quiver

quiver

Mr. and Mrs. Quiverful Are Made Happy. Mr. Slope is Encouraged by the Press

Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . Fourteen Arguments in Favour of Mr. Quiverful's Claims here Fourteen Arguments in Favour of Mr. Quiverful's Claims We have most of us heard of the terrible anger of a lioness when, surrounded by her cubs, she guards her prey. Few of us wish to disturb the mother of a litter of puppies when mouthing a bone in the midst of her young family. Medea and her children are familiar to us, and so is the grief of Constance. Mrs. Quiverful, when she first heard from her husband the news which he had to impart, felt within her bosom all the rage of the lioness, the rapacity of the hound, the fury of the tragic queen, and the deep despair of the bereaved mother. Doubting, but yet hardly fearing, what might have been the tenor of Mr. Slope's discourse, she rushed back to her husband as soon as the front door was closed behind the visitor. It was well for Mr. Slope that he so escaped—the anger of such a woman, at such a moment, would have cowed even him. As a general rule, it is highly desirable that ladies should keep their temper: a woman when she storms always makes herself ugly, and usually ridiculous also. There is nothing so odious to man as a virago. Though Theseus loved an Amazon, he showed his love but roughly, and from the time of Theseus downward, no man ever wished to have his wife remarkable rather for forward prowess than retiring gentleness. A low voice "is an excellent thing in woman." Such may be laid down as a very general rule; and few women should allow themselves to deviate from it, and then only on rare occasions. But if there be a time when a woman may let her hair to the winds, when she may loose her arms, and scream out trumpet-tongued to the ears of men, it is when nature calls out within her not for her own wants, but for the wants of those whom her womb has borne, whom her breasts have suckled, for those who look to her for their daily bread as naturally as man looks to his Creator. There was nothing poetic in the nature of Mrs. Quiverful. She was neither a Medea nor a Constance. When angry, she spoke out her anger in plain words, and in a tone which might have been modulated with advantage; but she did so, at any rate, without affectation. Now, without knowing it, she rose to a tragic vein. "Well, my dear, we are not to have it." Such were the words with which her ears were greeted when she entered the parlour, still hot from the kitchen fire. And the face of her husband spoke even more plainly than his words:— E'en such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night. "What!" said she—and Mrs. Siddons could not have put more passion into a single syllable—"What! Not have it? Who says so?" And she sat opposite to her husband, with her elbows on the table, her hands clasped together, and her coarse, solid, but once handsome face stretched over it towards him. She sat as silent as death while he told his story, and very dreadful to him her silence was. He told it very lamely and badly but still in such a manner that she soon understood the whole of it. "And so you have resigned it?" said she. "I have had no opportunity of accepting it," he replied. "I had no witnesses to Mr. Slope's offer, even if that offer would bind the bishop. It was better for me, on the whole, to keep on good terms with such men than to fight for what I should never get!" "Witnesses!" she screamed, rising quickly to her feet and walking up and down the room. "Do clergymen require witnesses to their words? He made the promise in the bishop's name, and if it is to be broken, I'll know the reason why. Did he not positively say that the bishop had sent him to offer you the place?" "He did, my dear. But that is now nothing to the purpose." "It is everything to the purpose, Mr. Quiverful. Witnesses indeed! And then to talk of your honour being questioned because you wish to provide for fourteen children. It is everything to the purpose; and so they shall know, if I scream it into their ears from the town cross of Barchester." "You forget, Letitia, that the bishop has so many things in his gift. We must wait a little longer. That is all." "Wait! Shall we feed the children by waiting? Will waiting put George, and Tom, and Sam out into the world? Will it enable my poor girls to give up some of their drudgery? Will waiting make Bessy and Jane fit even to be governesses? Will waiting pay for the things we got in Barchester last week?" "It is all we can do, my dear. The disappointment is as much to me as to you; and yet, God knows, I feel it more for your sake than my own." Mrs. Quiverful was looking full into her husband's face, and saw a small hot tear appear on each of those furrowed cheeks. This was too much for her woman's heart. He also had risen, and was standing with his back to the empty grate. She rushed towards him and, seizing him in her arms, sobbed aloud upon his bosom. "You are too good, too soft, too yielding," she said at last. "These men, when they want you, they use you like a cat's paw; and when they want you no longer, they throw you aside like an old shoe. This is twice they have treated you so." "In one way this will be all for the better," argued he. "It will make the bishop feel that he is bound to do something for me." "At any rate he shall hear of it," said the lady, again reverting to her more angry mood. "At any rate he shall hear of it, and that loudly; and so shall she. She little knows Letitia Quiverful, if she thinks I will sit down quietly with the loss after all that passed between us at the palace. If there's any feeling within her, I'll make her ashamed of herself,"—and she paced the room again, stamping the floor as she went with her fat, heavy foot. "Good heavens! What a heart she must have within her to treat in such a way as this the father of fourteen unprovided children!" Mr. Quiverful proceeded to explain that he didn't think that Mrs. Proudie had had anything to do with it. "Don't tell me," said Mrs. Quiverful; "I know more about it than that. Doesn't all the world know that Mrs. Proudie is bishop of Barchester and that Mr. Slope is merely her creature? Wasn't it she that made me the promise, just as though the thing was in her own particular gift? I tell you, it was that woman who sent him over here to-day, because, for some reason of her own, she wants to go back from her word." "My dear, you're wrong—" "Now, Q., don't be so soft," she continued. "Take my word for it, the bishop knows no more about it than Jemima does." Jemima was the two-year-old. "And if you'll take my advice, you'll lose no time in going over and seeing him yourself." Soft, however, as Mr. Quiverful might be, he would not allow himself to be talked out of his opinion on this occasion, and proceeded with much minuteness to explain to his wife the tone in which Mr. Slope had spoken of Mrs. Proudie's interference in diocesan matters. As he did so, a new idea gradually instilled itself into the matron's head, and a new course of conduct presented itself to her judgement. What if, after all, Mrs. Proudie knew nothing of this visit of Mr. Slope's? In that case, might it not be possible that that lady would still be staunch to her in this matter, still stand her friend, and, perhaps, possibly carry her through in opposition to Mr. Slope? Mrs. Quiverful said nothing as this vague hope occurred to her, but listened with more than ordinary patience to what her husband had to say. While he was still explaining that in all probability the world was wrong in its estimation of Mrs. Proudie's power and authority, she had fully made up her mind as to her course of action. She did not, however, proclaim her intention. She shook her head ominously as he continued his narration, and when he had completed, she rose to go, merely observing that it was cruel, cruel treatment. She then asked him if he would mind waiting for a late dinner instead of dining at their usual hour of three; and, having received from him a concession on this point, she proceeded to carry her purpose into execution. She determined that she would at once go to the palace, that she would do so, if possible, before Mrs. Proudie could have had an interview with Mr. Slope, and that she would be either submissive, piteous, and pathetic, or else indignant, violent, and exacting, according to the manner in which she was received. She was quite confident in her own power. Strengthened as she was by the pressing wants of fourteen children, she felt that she could make her way through legions of episcopal servants and force herself, if need be, into the presence of the lady who had so wronged her. She had no shame about it, no , no dread of archdeacons. She would, as she declared to her husband, make her wail heard in the market-place if she did not get redress and justice. It might be very well for an unmarried young curate to be shamefaced in such matters; it might be all right that a snug rector, really in want of nothing, but still looking for better preferment, should carry on his affairs decently under the rose. But Mrs. Quiverful, with fourteen children, had given over being shamefaced and, in some things, had given over being decent. If it were intended that she should be ill-used in the manner proposed by Mr. Slope, it should not be done under the rose. All the world should know of it. mauvaise honte In her present mood, Mrs. Quiverful was not over-careful about her attire. She tied her bonnet under her chin, threw her shawl over her shoulders, armed herself with the old family cotton umbrella, and started for Barchester. A journey to the palace was not quite so easy a thing for Mrs. Quiverful as for our friend at Plumstead. Plumstead is nine miles from Barchester, and Puddingdale is but four. But the archdeacon could order round his brougham, and his high-trotting fast bay gelding would take him into the city within the hour. There was no brougham in the coach-house of Puddingdale Vicarage, no bay horse in the stables. There was no method of locomotion for its inhabitants but that which nature has assigned to man. Mrs. Quiverful was a broad, heavy woman, not young, nor given to walking. In her kitchen, and in the family dormitories, she was active enough, but her pace and gait were not adapted for the road. A walk into Barchester and back in the middle of an August day would be to her a terrible task, if not altogether impracticable. There was living in the parish, about half a mile from the vicarage on the road to the city, a decent, kindly farmer, well to do as regards this world and so far mindful of the next that he attended his parish church with decent regularity. To him Mrs. Quiverful had before now appealed in some of her more pressing family troubles, and had not appealed in vain. At his door she now presented herself, and, having explained to his wife that most urgent business required her to go at once to Barchester, begged that Farmer Subsoil would take her thither in his tax-cart. The farmer did not reject her plan, and, as soon as Prince could be got into his collar, they started on their journey. Mrs. Quiverful did not mention the purpose of her business, nor did the farmer alloy his kindness by any unseemly questions. She merely begged to be put down at the bridge going into the city and to be taken up again at the same place in the course of two hours. The farmer promised to be punctual to his appointment, and the lady, supported by her umbrella, took the short cut to the close and, in a few minutes, was at the bishop's door. Hitherto she had felt no dread with regard to the coming interview. She had felt nothing but an indignant longing to pour forth her claims, and declare her wrongs, if those claims were not fully admitted. But now the difficulty of her situation touched her a little. She had been at the palace once before, but then she went to give grateful thanks. Those who have thanks to return for favours received find easy admittance to the halls of the great. Such is not always the case with men, or even with women, who have favours to beg. Still less easy is access for those who demand the fulfilment of promises already made. Mrs. Quiverful had not been slow to learn the ways of the world. She knew all this, and she knew also that her cotton umbrella and all but ragged shawl would not command respect in the eyes of the palatial servants. If she were too humble, she knew well that she would never succeed. To overcome by imperious overbearing with such a shawl as hers upon her shoulders and such a bonnet on her head would have required a personal bearing very superior to that with which nature had endowed her. Of this also Mrs. Quiverful was aware. She must make it known that she was the wife of a gentleman and a clergyman, and must yet condescend to conciliate. The poor lady knew but one way to overcome these difficulties at the very threshold of her enterprise, and to this she resorted. Low as were the domestic funds at Puddingdale, she still retained possession of half a crown, and this she sacrificed to the avarice of Mrs. Proudie's metropolitan sesquipedalian serving-man. She was, she said, Mrs. Quiverful of Puddingdale, the wife of the Rev. Mr. Quiverful. She wished to see Mrs. Proudie. It was indeed quite indispensable that she should see Mrs. Proudie. James Fitzplush looked worse than dubious, did not know whether his lady were out, or engaged, or in her bedroom; thought it most probable she was subject to one of these or to some other cause that would make her invisible; but Mrs. Quiverful could sit down in the waiting-room while inquiry was being made of Mrs. Proudie's maid. "Look here, my man," said Mrs. Quiverful; "I must see her;" and she put her card and half-crown—think of it, my reader, think of it; her last half-crown—into the man's hand and sat herself down on a chair in the waiting-room. Whether the bribe carried the day, or whether the bishop's wife really chose to see the vicar's wife, it boots not now to inquire. The man returned and, begging Mrs. Quiverful to follow him, ushered her into the presence of the mistress of the diocese. Mrs. Quiverful at once saw that her patroness was in a smiling humour. Triumph sat throned upon her brow, and all the joys of dominion hovered about her curls. Her lord had that morning contested with her a great point. He had received an invitation to spend a couple of days with the archbishop. His soul longed for the gratification. Not a word, however, in his grace's note alluded to the fact of his being a married man; if he went at all, he must go alone. This necessity would have presented no insurmountable bar to the visit, or have militated much against the pleasure, had he been able to go without any reference to Mrs. Proudie. But this he could not do. He could not order his portmanteau to be packed and start with his own man, merely telling the lady of his heart that he would probably be back on Saturday. There are men—may we not rather say monsters?—who do such things, and there are wives—may we not rather say slaves?—who put up with such usage. But Dr. and Mrs. Proudie were not among the number. The bishop, with some beating about the bush, made the lady understand that he very much wished to go. The lady, without any beating about the bush, made the bishop understand that she wouldn't hear of it. It would be useless here to repeat the arguments that were used on each side, and needless to record the result. Those who are married will understand very well how the battle was lost and won, and those who are single will never understand it till they learn the lesson which experience alone can give. When Mrs. Quiverful was shown into Mrs. Proudie's room, that lady had only returned a few minutes from her lord. But before she left him she had seen the answer to the archbishop's note written and sealed. No wonder that her face was wreathed with smiles as she received Mrs. Quiverful. She instantly spoke of the subject which was so near the heart of her visitor. "Well, Mrs. Quiverful," said she, "is it decided yet when you are to move into Barchester?" "That woman," as she had an hour or two since been called, became instantly re-endowed with all the graces that can adorn a bishop's wife. Mrs. Quiverful immediately saw that her business was to be piteous, and that nothing was to be gained by indignation—nothing, indeed, unless she could be indignant in company with her patroness. "Oh, Mrs. Proudie," she began, "I fear we are not to move to Barchester at all." "Why not?" said that lady sharply, dropping at a moment's notice her smiles and condescension, and turning with her sharp quick way to business which she saw at a glance was important. And then Mrs. Quiverful told her tale. As she progressed in the history of her wrongs she perceived that the heavier she leant upon Mr. Slope the blacker became Mrs. Proudie's brow, but that such blackness was not injurious to her own case. When Mr. Slope was at Puddingdale Vicarage that morning she had regarded him as the creature of the lady-bishop; now she perceived that they were enemies. She admitted her mistake to herself without any pain or humiliation. She had but one feeling, and that was confined to her family. She cared little how she twisted and turned among these new-comers at the bishop's palace so long as she could twist her husband into the warden's house. She cared not which was her friend or which was her enemy, if only she could get this preferment which she so sorely wanted. She told her tale, and Mrs. Proudie listened to it almost in silence. She told how Mr. Slope had cozened her husband into resigning his claim, and had declared that it was the bishop's will that none but Mr. Harding should be warden. Mrs. Proudie's brow became blacker and blacker. At last she started from her chair and, begging Mrs. Quiverful to sit and wait for her return, marched out of the room. "Oh, Mrs. Proudie, it's for fourteen children—for fourteen children." Such was the burden that fell on her ear as she closed the door behind her. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Anthony Trollope (2002). Barchester Towers. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/3409/pg3409-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

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Sylvia: 100 Days

So, this is absolutely just another example of me playing around too much, but I had to share. As I mentioned in my yesterday, Google's AI Studio now supports uploading files and working with them in your prompt. post Today, I decided to give the Chat interface a try as I hadn't yet played with it. On a whim, I googled "dungeons and dragons rules PDF" and... well, you won't believe what happened next. (Sorry, I couldn't resist.) First off, the most important thing to note if you want to test with PDFs, ensure that they are OCRed. Right now, AI Studio does not handle that well, but it should be corrected in the future. My Google search turned up the PDF here: , and I confirmed it was properly OCRed with a very scientific test by trying to select a few words. https://media.wizards.com/2018/dnd/downloads/DnD_BasicRules_2018.pdf Note that it's from 2018 and probably a bit out of date, but I figured it was good enough. I uploaded the PDF to Gemini and ensured I was using Gemini 1.5. This is important as the size of the PDF (180 pages) means a rather large token size. The UI reports this nicely: For my first test, I simply asked, "What are the attributes of a player character?" Here's what I got: In Dungeons & Dragons, player characters (PCs) are defined by several key attributes: Race: This determines your character's physical characteristics, ancestry, and innate abilities. Examples include humans, elves, dwarves, halflings, dragonborns, tieflings, etc. Each race has unique traits that affect gameplay. Class: This represents your character's chosen profession and determines their skills, abilities, and progression path. Examples include fighter, wizard, rogue, cleric, bard, etc. Each class has unique features and abilities that define their role in the party. Ability Scores: These six scores represent your character's core physical and mental capabilities: Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma. They influence almost every action your character takes, from attacking and defending to interacting with the world and casting spells. Skills: These represent specific areas of expertise your character has developed through training or experience. Examples include Athletics, Acrobatics, Stealth, Perception, Persuasion, Arcana, etc. Skills are tied to ability scores and determine your character's success in various tasks. Background: This details your character's history and past experiences before becoming an adventurer. Examples include soldier, criminal, noble, sage, etc. Backgrounds provide additional skills, proficiencies, and roleplaying hooks. Equipment: This includes weapons, armor, tools, and other items your character carries. Equipment affects your character's capabilities in combat and exploration. Personality and Alignment: These define your character's moral compass, beliefs, and behavior. Alignment is a combination of two factors: morality (good, evil, or neutral) and attitude towards society and order (lawful, chaotic, or neutral). Backstory: This is the narrative of your character's life before the game begins, including their motivations, goals, and relationships. A well-developed backstory adds depth and helps you roleplay your character. These attributes work together to create a unique and well-rounded character that you can roleplay and guide through adventures in the D&D world. I'm pretty rusty in D&D, but that surely seems right! (When I shared this in a chat related to Gemini, William Ito skimmed it and said it looks correct for that era - so, I'm taking that as another sign it worked well.) I then asked, "What races are available to player characters?" The most common player character races in Dungeons & Dragons are: Humans: Adaptable and versatile, with no major strengths or weaknesses. Elves: Graceful and long-lived, with a natural affinity for magic and a resistance to charm effects. Subraces include High Elves, Wood Elves, and Dark Elves (Drow). Dwarves: Stout and hardy, with a resistance to magic and poison, and proficiency in combat and craftsmanship. Subraces include Hill Dwarves and Mountain Dwarves. Halflings: Nimble and small, with a natural ability to hide and a resistance to fear. Subraces include Lightfoot Halflings and Stout Halflings. The Player's Handbook also introduces several less common races, including: Dragonborn: Proud and draconic humanoids with scales and the ability to breathe fire. Tieflings: Demonic descendants with a natural affinity for magic and resistance to fire. Gnomes: Inventive and curious small creatures with a natural ability to tinker and a resistance to magic. Half-elves: Combining human and elven traits, they are versatile and have a resistance to charm effects. Half-orcs: Combining human and orc traits, they are strong and fierce with a resistance to being knocked unconscious. Additionally, some campaign settings and sourcebooks introduce even more exotic races, such as Aasimar, Firbolg, Goliath, Aarakocra, Genasi, and many others. The availability of these races depends on your Dungeon Master and the specific campaign setting you are playing in. Remember, the most important factor in choosing a race is to pick one that excites you and fits the character concept you have in mind. I have absolutely no clue if those exotic races exist, but I did a quick search on Aasimar, and it looks like it certainly does: Aasimar Alright, now, at this point, I was impressed. But I thought - why not push my luck? "Given the rules to create a character, create one with all the required characters and give it a name" And holy crap - Gemini delivered! Character Name: Lyra Swiftfoot Race: Lightfoot Halfling Class: Rogue (Thief) Background: Entertainer (Dancer) Alignment: Chaotic Good Ability Scores: (Using the standard set) Strength: 8 (-1) Dexterity: 17 (+3) Constitution: 14 (+2) Intelligence: 13 (+1) Wisdom: 12 (+1) Charisma: 15 (+2) Hit Points: 10 (8 + 2 from Constitution modifier) Proficiencies: Armor: Light armor Weapons: Simple weapons, hand crossbows, longswords, rapiers, shortswords Tools: Thieves' tools, Disguise kit (from background) Saving Throws: Dexterity, Intelligence Skills: Acrobatics (+5), Perception (+4), Performance (+6), Stealth (+7) (Expertise in Stealth and Performance) Equipment: Rapier Shortbow and quiver of 20 arrows Leather armor Two daggers Thieves' tools Disguise kit Backpack Bedroll Mess kit Tinderbox 10 torches 10 days of rations Waterskin 50 feet of hempen rope Pouch with 15 gp Personality Traits: I have a quick wit and a fondness for pranks. I am fiercely loyal to my friends and always look out for their safety. Ideal: Freedom: Everyone should be free to live their life as they see fit. (Chaotic) Bond: I will do anything to protect my younger sister, who is the only family I have left. Flaw: I have a weakness for shiny objects and can't resist the urge to steal them, even if it means putting myself at risk. Backstory: Lyra grew up on the streets, using her nimbleness and charm to survive. She learned to dance for coins and honed her skills in stealth and deception to pilfer from unsuspecting onlookers. After her sister was kidnapped by slavers, Lyra vowed to do whatever it takes to find and rescue her, even if it means venturing into the darkest corners of the world. This is just a basic example, and you can further customize Lyra by adding details to her appearance, personality, and backstory. You can also choose different skills, proficiencies, or equipment based on your preferences and the campaign setting. By the way, the formatting above is a bit off, but that came from me copying and pasting from Gemini and being a bit lazy about sprucing it up. I figured I'd push my luck and try again: "do that again please" Character Name: Falion Sunstrider Race: High Elf Class: Wizard (Evocation) Background: Sage (Researcher) Alignment: Neutral Good Ability Scores: (Using the standard set) Strength: 8 (-1) Dexterity: 14 (+2) Constitution: 13 (+1) Intelligence: 17 (+3) Wisdom: 12 (+1) Charisma: 10 (+0) Hit Points: 8 (6 + 1 from Constitution modifier) Proficiencies: Weapons: Daggers, darts, slings, quarterstaffs, light crossbows Tools: None Saving Throws: Intelligence, Wisdom Skills: Arcana (+6), History (+6), Investigation (+4) (Expertise in Arcana and History) Equipment: Quarterstaff Arcane focus (crystal) Scholar's pack Spellbook with six 1st-level wizard spells (Burning Hands, Charm Person, Detect Magic, Mage Armor, Magic Missile, Shield) Backpack Bedroll Mess kit Tinderbox 10 torches 10 days of rations Waterskin 50 feet of hempen rope Pouch with 10 gp Personality Traits: I am deeply curious about the world and always eager to learn new things. I am absent-minded and often lost in my own thoughts. Ideal: Knowledge: The path to power and self-improvement is through knowledge. (Neutral) Bond: I am searching for the lost library of a legendary archmage, rumored to contain powerful spells and forgotten lore. Flaw: I am overconfident in my abilities and sometimes underestimate the dangers I face. Backstory: Falion spent his youth studying in a prestigious academy of magic, quickly surpassing his peers with his thirst for knowledge and natural talent for evocation magic. After hearing rumors of a lost library containing powerful spells and forgotten lore, Falion set out on a journey to find it, hoping to unlock its secrets and further his magical abilities. This is just a basic example, and you can further customize Falion by adding details to his appearance, personality, and backstory. You can also choose different skills, proficiencies, or equipment based on your preferences and the campaign setting. So, at this point, I was blown away. Like, I don't even care if it broke any particular D&D rules; that was just fun. But... yeah, I pushed my luck ... ... ... one last time "Of the two characters you just made, who do you think would be a better party leader?" Between Lyra Swiftfoot and Falion Sunstrider, Lyra would likely be the better party leader for several reasons: : Lyra has a higher Charisma score, which is important for inspiring and motivating others. Her background as an entertainer also suggests she is comfortable in front of crowds and skilled at interacting with people. Charisma : Lyra's skillset is more suited to leadership. Her expertise in Persuasion and Deception allows her to negotiate effectively and navigate social situations, while her proficiency in Perception and Stealth makes her a good scout and strategist. Skills : Lyra's personality traits suggest she is quick-witted and loyal, both valuable qualities in a leader. Her flaw, while potentially problematic, can be mitigated by her other strengths and the support of her party. Personality : While wizards can be powerful, their focus on spellcasting and relative lack of social skills often makes them less effective leaders. Class Falion, on the other hand, excels in knowledge and magical power, making him a valuable asset to the party in terms of strategy and information gathering. However, his lower Charisma and lack of social skills might hinder his ability to effectively lead and inspire others. Additionally, his absent-mindedness and overconfidence could lead to poor decisions in critical situations. Of course, the effectiveness of a party leader also depends on the specific campaign setting, the party composition, and the players' roleplaying preferences. In some situations, Falion's knowledge and magical prowess might be more valuable than Lyra's social skills. Ultimately, the best party leader is the one that the players and the Dungeon Master agree upon and who can effectively guide the party through their adventures. My god. That's just... perfect. And honestly, it feels like the right choice for the right reasons. Anyway, this isn't necessarily a deep look at this particular feature, but it was so fun I had to share!

Google Gemini: Your New Dungeon Master?

গুগল মিথুন: আপনার নতুন অন্ধকূপ মাস্টার?

Google Gemini: Ihr neuer Dungeon-Meister?

Google Gemini: ¿tu nuevo maestro de mazmorras?

Google Gemini : votre nouveau maître de donjon ?

गूगल जेमिनी: आपका नया कालकोठरी मास्टर?

Google Gemini: あなたの新しいダンジョンマスター?

Google Gemini: 새로운 던전 마스터?

Google Gemini: seu novo mestre de masmorras?

Google Gemini: ваш новый мастер подземелий?

Google Gemini: Yeni Zindan Ustanız mı?

Google Gemini: Chủ nhân ngục tối mới của bạn?

谷歌双子座：你的新地下城主？

So far, most of my playing with Generative AI has been on the prompt side, with no real look at the various settings you can tweak in your calls. As I'm still very new to this, I'm trying my best to take things slowly. But every time I open and see the settings on the right, I keep nagging myself to take a deeper look. Google AI Studio You can also see the various settings options in the default code Studio spits out: const generationConfig = {
	temperature: 0.9,
	topK: 1,
	topP: 1,
	maxOutputTokens: 2048,
};

const safetySettings = [
	{ category: HarmCategory.HARM_CATEGORY_HARASSMENT, threshold: HarmBlockThreshold.BLOCK_MEDIUM_AND_ABOVE, },
	{ category: HarmCategory.HARM_CATEGORY_HATE_SPEECH,	threshold: HarmBlockThreshold.BLOCK_MEDIUM_AND_ABOVE, },
	{ category: HarmCategory.HARM_CATEGORY_SEXUALLY_EXPLICIT, threshold: HarmBlockThreshold.BLOCK_MEDIUM_AND_ABOVE, },
	{ category: HarmCategory.HARM_CATEGORY_DANGEROUS_CONTENT, threshold: HarmBlockThreshold.BLOCK_MEDIUM_AND_ABOVE, },
]; I thought today I'd take a look at , as I had a rough idea of what it implied. Temperature, at a high level, refers to how 'varied' a particular generated response can be. As an example, if I were to say, "I like ____", then you could make a list of what the next word would be, rated by how likely it is: temperature very Cats (VERY LIKELY) Star Wars (LIKELY) Books (LIKELY) Vegetables (UNLIKELY) At the highest temperature value, there will be a of variety. At the lowest level, no variety. Now, from what I know, that does mean that every response will be the same. Just very similar. This post, , does a great job explaining temperature (and other settings). lot not "Creatively Deterministic: What are Temperature and Top_P in Generative AI?" While it's relatively easy in AI Studio to adjust the temperature setting you see above, what I really wanted was a tool to help me see multiple results at once. So, I built one. :) Temperature Testing Tool My tool begins with a simple prompt: This is pretty vanilla HTML, so I won't share the code here (I've got a link to everything down below). Upon hitting the button, that's where the magic begins. Here's the JavaScript: // Testing ranges for temperature
const tempRanges = [0, 0.3, 0.6, 1];

// How many times to test per temp.
const perTemp = 2;

let $status, $results;

document.addEventListener('DOMContentLoaded', init, false);
async function init() {
	document.querySelector('#submitBtn').addEventListener('click', handleSubmit, false);
	$status = document.querySelector('#status i');
	$results = document.querySelector('#results');
} I begin with some variable declarations and a listener for . The first two variable sections are the crucial ones. Temperature values go from 0 (focus on only the highest probable response) to 1 (be more creative), and I decided to test four values in that range. DOMContentLoaded For each range in the array of temperatures, I do two tests. My thinking was that two results would be enough to see the variance in one particular temperature value. Carrying on... async function handleSubmit(e) {
	e.preventDefault();
	$results.innerHTML = '';

	let prompt = document.querySelector('#prompt').value.trim();
	if(prompt === '') return;

	/*
	We are going to loop perTemp times for each tempRange. In order to not
	get stopped by Gemini for too many requests, and to provide feedback to the user, 
	I'll report after each tempRange
	*/
	for(temp of tempRanges) {
		$status.innerText = `Getting results for temperature ${temp}.`;
		let promises = [];
		for(let i=0; i<perTemp; i++) {
			promises.push(getResult(prompt, temp));
		}

		let results = await Promise.all(promises);
		let html = `<h2>Temperature ${temp}</h2>`;
		for(let i=0; i < results.length; i++) {
			html += `
<p>
Result #${i+1}:<br/>
${results[i]}
</p>`;
		}
		$results.innerHTML += html;
		console.log(results);
	}

	$status.innerText = ``;
	
}

async function getResult(prompt, temperature) {
	console.log(`Calling getResult with prompt ${prompt} and ${temperature}`);
	let body = {
		prompt, 
		temperature
	};
	let req = await fetch('/api', { method: 'POST', body: JSON.stringify(body)});
	return await req.json();
} In this code, I loop over the range of temperatures and then make my two sample calls. When done, I render it out to the screen. The last function simply passes my prompt and temperature to the backend API. I'll share a screenshot, but it's a wall of text. This is only a small portion: long The backend is a lightweight Node.js server that basically handles outputting my HTML and responding to the request by the client-side JavaScript. Let's take a look at that, specifically the portion handling the Google Gemini call: POST import { GoogleGenerativeAI, HarmCategory, HarmBlockThreshold } from '@google/generative-ai';

const MODEL_NAME = "gemini-pro";
const API_KEY = process.env.GOOGLE_AI_KEY;

const genAI = new GoogleGenerativeAI(API_KEY);
const model = genAI.getGenerativeModel({ model: MODEL_NAME });

async function callGemini(text, temperature) {

	const generationConfig = {
		temperature,
		topK: 1,
		topP: 1,
		maxOutputTokens: 2048,
	};

	const safetySettings = [
		{ category: HarmCategory.HARM_CATEGORY_HARASSMENT, threshold: HarmBlockThreshold.BLOCK_MEDIUM_AND_ABOVE, },
		{ category: HarmCategory.HARM_CATEGORY_HATE_SPEECH,	threshold: HarmBlockThreshold.BLOCK_MEDIUM_AND_ABOVE, },
		{ category: HarmCategory.HARM_CATEGORY_SEXUALLY_EXPLICIT, threshold: HarmBlockThreshold.BLOCK_MEDIUM_AND_ABOVE, },
		{ category: HarmCategory.HARM_CATEGORY_DANGEROUS_CONTENT, threshold: HarmBlockThreshold.BLOCK_MEDIUM_AND_ABOVE, },
	];

	const parts = [
    	{text},
  	];

	const result = await model.generateContent({
		contents: [{ role: "user", parts }],
		generationConfig,
		safetySettings,
	});

	const response = result.response.candidates[0].content.parts[0].text;
	
	return response;
} This is pretty much the exact code spit out by Studio but wrapped into a function where the prompt and temperature can be passed in. This function has error handling, and that absolutely bit me in the butt. I'm going to be taking a look at those errors, and how to handle them, in a future blog post. no So what did I find? Results Here are the results of using the prompt: "Tell me a story about cats." First, temperature 0. Result 1 Once upon a time, in a quaint little town nestled amidst rolling hills, there lived a mischievous cat named Mittens. Mittens was known throughout the neighborhood for her playful antics and her insatiable curiosity. One sunny afternoon, as Mittens was basking in the warmth of the sunbeam that streamed through the window, she noticed a peculiar sound coming from the kitchen. Intrigued, she hopped off the window sill and tiptoed towards the source of the noise. Upon entering the kitchen, Mittens discovered a group of kittens huddled around a bowl of milk. Their tiny paws were eagerly reaching for the sweet liquid, and their eyes sparkled with delight. Mittens, being the adventurous cat she was, couldn't resist joining in on the fun. With a playful leap, Mittens landed gracefully in the midst of the kittens. She purred loudly, her tail swishing back and forth as she rubbed against their soft fur. The kittens, initially startled by the sudden intrusion, soon warmed up to Mittens' friendly presence. Together, they formed a circle around the bowl of milk, their whiskers twitching as they lapped up the delicious treat. Mittens, being the eldest and most experienced cat, took it upon herself to teach the kittens proper table manners. She showed them how to take turns and how to avoid spilling the milk. As the kittens learned and grew, they developed a deep bond with Mittens. They looked up to her as their mentor and protector. Mittens, in turn, cherished her role as the leader of the pack. She spent her days playing with the kittens, teaching them valuable life lessons and keeping them safe from harm. Word of Mittens' extraordinary kindness and wisdom spread throughout the town. People would often bring their cats to her, seeking her advice and guidance. Mittens welcomed each and every cat with open paws, offering them comfort, support, and a sense of belonging. And so, Mittens became known as the "Guardian Cat" of the town. She was loved and respected by all, both humans and cats alike. Her legacy lived on for generations, inspiring countless cats to follow in her paw prints and spread joy and kindness wherever they went. Result 2 Once upon a time, in a quaint little town nestled amidst rolling hills, there lived a mischievous cat named Mittens. Mittens was known throughout the neighborhood for her playful antics and her insatiable curiosity. One sunny afternoon, as Mittens was basking in the warmth of the sunbeam that streamed through the window, she noticed a peculiar sound coming from the kitchen. Intrigued, she hopped off the window sill and tiptoed towards the source of the noise. Upon entering the kitchen, Mittens discovered a group of kittens huddled around a bowl of milk. Their tiny paws were eagerly lapping up the delicious liquid, their whiskers quivering with delight. Mittens, unable to resist the temptation, joined the kittens and began to partake in the feast. As they drank, Mittens couldn't help but notice that one of the kittens was smaller and weaker than the others. It struggled to keep up with its siblings, and its eyes held a look of longing. Mittens, being the compassionate cat that she was, decided to help the little kitten. With a gentle nudge, Mittens pushed the other kittens aside and made room for the weaker one. She then curled her tail around the kitten, providing it with warmth and comfort. The little kitten, grateful for Mittens' kindness, nuzzled against her fur and began to purr softly. As the kittens continued to drink their milk, Mittens couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfillment. She had not only satisfied her own hunger but had also brought joy and comfort to a fellow creature. From that day forward, Mittens became known as the neighborhood's guardian angel. She would often be seen playing with the kittens, teaching them how to climb trees and chase butterflies. She would also bring them food and shelter when they were in need. The kittens, in turn, adored Mittens and would follow her everywhere she went. They would purr and rub against her legs, showing their affection and gratitude. And so, Mittens lived a long and happy life, surrounded by the love and companionship of her feline friends. She taught the town's residents the importance of kindness and compassion, and her legacy lived on long after she was gone. Notice that both start off the same and then diverge. To save on space, I'll skip to temperature 1 next. Result 1 Once upon a time, in a bustling city called Willow Brook, there lived a calico cat named Mittens. Mittens had a reputation for being a fearless explorer, always curious and eager for adventure. One day, Mittens embarked on her biggest expedition yet. She had heard rumors of a secret garden hidden deep within the city park, and she was determined to find it. When nightfall came, Mittens began her adventure, carefully sneaking out of her home and into the park. The park was silent, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moon. As she tiptoed through the winding paths, a faint scent of flowers carried by the wind caught her attention. Mittens followed the scent until she stumbled upon a large tree. Its branches were laden with bountiful blooms, and a gentle breeze sent petals raining down on her. Suddenly, a soft voice whispered, "Welcome, little traveler." Mittens looked around, her eyes widening in astonishment. Sitting on a branch was a beautiful cat; its fur shimmered like the night sky. "I am Esmerelda," the cat said, "and you are Mittens, the brave calico." Mittens was amazed. She had heard stories about Esmerelda, a magical cat said to hold the secret to unlocking the hidden garden. "Yes, Mittens," Esmerelda continued, "you have found the Enchanted Garden. But to enter, you must pass three challenges." Without hesitation, Mittens agreed. Her first challenge was to find a golden key hidden within the roots of an oak tree. With her sharp claws and determined spirit, Mittens discovered the key, its surface glowing brightly. Next, Esmerelda asked Mittens to gather dewdrops from the heart of a moonflower blossom. As Mittens gracefully leaped and climbed the tall stems, she carefully collected the sparkling dew in a tiny seashell. Finally, Mittens' last challenge was to sing a song that would make the trees sway and the flowers bloom. As Mittens lifted her voice, her melodious' tune enchanted the garden, which sprang to life with vibrant colors and dazzling lights. Esmeralda smiled, "Well done, little traveler. You have passed the challenges." With a gentle paw, Esmerelda touched the large oak tree, causing it to slowly open like a door, revealing an awe-inspiring paradise. Inside the Enchanted Garden, Mittens found lush meadows, sparkling fountains, and exotic creatures playing among the trees. It was a place of wonder and joy as if every storybook she had ever heard had come true. Mittens spent the entire night exploring the magical realm, amazed by its beauty. As dawn broke, she turned to Esmerelda and said, " Thank you for sharing this incredible place with me. Esmerelda purred softly. "You are welcome, Mittens. As long as you believe in magic, the garden will always be here for you to explore." From that day forward, Mittens became the guardian of the Enchanted Garden, a place where she could always find solace, friendship, and a sense of belonging among the natural beauty of Willow Brook. And so, the legend of the brave calico and the Enchanting Garden lived on, brought to life of the belief in magic and the wonders that can be found when one dares to explore beyond the ordinary. Result 2 Once upon a time, in a small and charming town called Willow Creek, nestled amidst rolling hills and blooming meadows, there lived two extraordinary cats. One was a sleek and graceful Siamese named Luna, whose shimmering white fur and piercing blue eyes radiated elegance and mystique. Her every movement exuded nimbleness, gliding through the streets of Willow Creek with an air of regal composure. Meet the second cat, a tabby by the name of Max, a playful and mischievous soul adorned with a coat of orange and black stripes. His sparkling green eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint; ears always perked, ever alert to the adventures that awaited him. His playful antics had become a legend among the townspeople, who were often greeted by his friendly antics and joyful meows. The companionship between Luna and Max was a sight to behold. They were inseparable, roaming the cobblestone streets together, their playful pursuits leading them to alleyways and secret paths known only to them. Their friendship was a true testament to the unwavering spirit and unbreakable bond between cats. During the day, they would bask lazily in the warm sunlight that bathed the town square, absorbing the melody of children playing and the laughter of friends sharing stories. At night, under the velvet sky adorned with shimmering stars, they would chase elusive fireflies and embark on daring expeditions, exploring the town's hidden nooks and crannies, their soft paw steps barely disturbing the tranquil silence. Many a local came to rely on the presence of Luna and Max, knowing that their playful chases and affectionate purrs brought an unexplainable joy and warmth to the heart. The elderly, feeling isolated, found solace in their presence, witnessing a simple yet profound beauty in their interactions. Children were captivated by their antics, watching in delight as they climbed trees or chased each other through the flowerbeds. One day, a traveling circus arrived in Willow Creek, filled with fanfare and vibrant colors. Luna and Max, captivated by the excitement, couldn't resist exploring the wonders this circus held. As they ventured into the largest tent, they were greeted with the mesmerising spectacle of trained cats, performing incredible feats of agility and balance. Inspired by their newfound passion, Luna and Max made a daring decision - they ran away to join the circus! They honed their skills tirelessly, practicing their balancing acts and performing stunning leaps. Their dedication and unwavering friendship caught the attention of the ringmaster, who recognized their talent and potential. Finally, the moment arrived when Luna and Max took center stage, their hearts pounding with excitement and anticipation. The audience, holding their breath in anticipation, witnessed an extraordinary performance, a mesmerizing ballet of agility and grace. Luna's elegant poise and Max's playful energy combined to create a symphony of motion that left the spectators awe-inspired. News of Luna and Max's incredible talents spread like wildfire, and they became stars of the circus, sharing their joy and laughter with audiences of all ages. Their unwavering friendship remained the heart of their performances, a symbol of the magical bond between cats that touched the hearts of all who witnessed their amazing journey. And so, Luna and Max, once ordinary cats roaming the streets of Willow Creek, found their destined path in the spotlight of the circus ring, leaving behind a legacy of a friendship that defied the ordinary and inspired the extraordinary in others. As you can tell, even if you only skimmed it, these are much more varied. I found having all these variations on screen at once, from the same prompt, a easy way to help me understand the impact of temperature. If you want to try this yourself, you can grab the bits here: real https://github.com/cfjedimaster/ai-testingzone/tree/main/temp_tester Download the code, the required bits, and set an environment variable for your Google API key. Run the script ( ) and it will open up a web server on port 3000. Lastly, just open that up with your browser. npm i node script.js As always, let me know what you think. I've got some ideas for other tools like this as a way of learning generative AI! Also published . here

Testing Generative AI Temperature Settings with Some Cat Stories

They say the devil's in the details, but in the case of , it's more like a mischievous gremlin with a penchant for blockchain security. I plunged headfirst into this tech rabbit hole to witness Mitja Gorochevsky, the wild mind behind and this radical consensus algorithm, unleash his latest creation on a crowd of unsuspecting tech enthusiasts. Acki Nacki GOSH The Scene: A Digital Carnival of Quirk Picture a virtual stage where coding wizards and crypto evangelists collide—that's the kind of energy that crackled through the air as Mitja took the reins. The vibe was part tech conference, part cyberpunk circus, with Acki Nacki taking center stage as a personified defender of integrity. blockchain But even gremlins have their off days. Internet gremlins, that is. The demo hit a few snags thanks to connectivity hiccups, but that didn't dampen the spirit. It just added a layer of unpredictable chaos to the mix, as if Acki Nacki was flexing its trickster muscles. Enter Acki Nacki: The Multi-Headed Hydra of Blockchain Now, hold on to your crypto wallets because Acki Nacki is no ordinary consensus algorithm. Imagine a multi-core, multi-threaded execution environment where anyone can drop a contract and run operations in parallel with lightning-fast, under-1-second finality. And all this on the decentralised supercomputer known as GOSH. "The odds of a successful malicious attack on GOSH (with Acki Nacki) is not just less likely than a successful attack on Bitcoin," Mitja boldly declared, "it's less likely than an asteroid hitting Earth and wiping us all out tomorrow!" Hackathon Hoedown and the GOSH Gold Rush But the real party starts with the "Underworld" hackathon. A siren call to tech rebels, inviting them to bend the boundaries of what's possible. Here are the challenges they laid down: Wallet apps that make your crypto quiver with glee. Visualisation tools to make blockchains look like trippy art installations. Security tooling so tight that even the NSA would be impressed. SDKs, TVMs, ZKPs... basically, if it sounds like alphabet soup, it's fair game. Why go through all this trouble? Because the only way to score GOSH tokens is either through this hackathon or the "Die Last" validator games. It's a tech wild west where your coding skills are your six-shooter. Is anyone paying attention, though, Ben? Well, I'm glad you asked. For me, the big-news-plot-twist of the evening, away from all the tech bluster, is that the United Nations, the global epitome of diplomatic collaboration, has chosen GOSH to host its decentralized autonomous organization (DAO) for the Internet Governance Forum (IGF). This move underscores the growing recognition of GOSH as a reliable and secure platform for handling critical aspects of Internet governance. I can already picture Acki Nacki, the mischievous guardian of blockchain integrity, now donning the mantle of responsibility as it becomes the backbone for this huge UN-backed initiative. Conclusion: A Glimpse into a Decentralized Future, Gremlins and All Did Acki Nacki live up to the hype? The jury's still out, but one thing's for certain: Mitja knows how to throw a tech party that leaves you questioning reality and craving more. In a world of sterile blockchain conferences, this was a jolt of raw, unadulterated innovation. Hold on tight, folks—the GOSH ride is just getting started.

Deep in the Tech Underworld, a Gremlin-Like Consensus Wakes: Dispatches of the Acki Nacki Freakshow

BRIDAL VISITS AND ADIEUX.

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