It's great that you can write a script and visualize it in 2 hours with the use of AI. Both Midjourney and ChatGTP this obviously unlocks creative power and speed. My original plan was to create this as a videogame experience, but it's too much time and effort which at the moment I do not have, so I'm releasing here the script with the visuals.
I'm not sure this is world class creative work, but for very little investment you can have a whole story visualized in half a day.
Although I think I got pretty close here is what the AI can't tell me: does my story suck? does my attempt at connecting certain story elements/jokes succeed? Is my story too obvious? The image prompts are quite on point to be honest -they even seem almost exactly what I had in my mind-. But that rises a lot of questions too. Are we complacent the first moment we see an idea close to what we want? Do we delegate too much to the AI? Being a director involves having a clear vision, so, is this a collab or does it really help the director creat the proper vision. I guess only the final product would tell.
At the moment, the product is the blog post. Hope you enjoy the story.
No More Moons
Immerse yourself in the dream. Picture a quaint suburban house with a barbecue sizzling, a frolicking golden retriever in the yard. Then, suddenly, consciousness breaks in.
Which reality is the dream? Which is the tormenting nightmare?
Your surroundings are oddly familiar yet strange. A space station that echoes domestic comfort - a paradox, both a residence and a void fortress.
Peering through a shattered glass, your breath rasps, harsh and laboured. Your hand catches your attention, a haunting glow of "Oxygen 13%" emitting from it - a dreadfully unlucky number.
Before you, a lifeless screen. The station is plunged into an abyss, save for a solitary, foreboding red light that blinks ominously. As you advance towards it, reality warps around you.
Abruptly, you're back in the garden, engulfed in uncanny silence, faint voices murmuring from nowhere.
An unsettling noise pierces the tranquility. A phone ringing, its screen pulsating red.
You touch it and find yourself back at the stark, cold station.
With trembling uncertainty, you approach the red button. As your fingers graze it, the lights stutter back to life, screens flicker and an eerie rumble resonates. It feels like a presence stirring in the metallic beast.
Now bathed in hesitant light, the station invites exploration. A door, slightly ajar, beckons. On it, a name - "N.N."
Crossing the threshold, you discover a journal - an antiquated relic of handwritten thoughts.
As your fingers brush the dusty cover, reality ripples and you find yourself transported to a cozy home office. Photos with blurred lines adorn the desk, next to an old computer and a tape recorder that murmurs cryptic sounds.
The computer awakens at your touch, a blinking cursor on the screen. With each press, a dire warning: "Oxygen 13%". Your helmet UI flickers. Another press - "Emergency procedure activated. Do you want to restart the oxygen systems? y/n."
Desperate, you respond: "Yes."
A haunting change suffuses the room - light filters in, revealing an infinite stretch of grass outside the window, under an impossibly massive moon hanging in broad daylight.
Suddenly, you're back at the space station, spinning wildly in the vast expanse. The office returns, a photo frame catching your eye - is that you?
A blurred face, indistinguishable. Beside it, an image of a child slowly disappearing. Breath becomes a struggle.
The AI assist propels you towards the oxygen charging station.
In your frustration, you yell out “FUCK!”, and your wrist AI responds by displaying images of ducks.
Amidst the chaos, a post-it note catches your eye: "Every day I am with him, I'm thinking I could not be having this moment."
Amidst the chaos, a post-it note catches your eye:
"Every day I am with him, I'm thinking I could not be having this moment."
A whirl of emotions overcomes you, and suddenly, you're back at the workstation. On the screen, a smiley face. A recording echoes in the room.
Your world shatters and reforms, now presenting a child's room.
You see crayons, a chalkboard with a smiley face, a duck drawing, and a raccoon plush toy concealing a little spaceman.
This reality, of all possible ones, is one you've tried to forget. A sharp reminder of what you've lost. Yet, it's the one you're forced to relive. Your body is screaming in pain. You'd do anything to spend just one more day forgetting this and remembering it at the same time...
Oxygen is running low. You're back in the office. On the computer screen, the silhouette of a duck, a raccoon, and an astronaut. You play along with the 2D game. Upon completion, the oxygen level rises, providing temporary relief.
With the imminent danger momentarily averted, the station doesn't look as chaotic anymore. Still, it's dead silent.
A dark tunnel reveals itself when you open the fridge, leading to a room of infinite reflections - the multiverse in its entirety.
Every possible version of you stares back, only with slight differences. Amidst them all, you spot him...
Wake up. You can't stand the sight of him lying there, tubes protruding from his mouth, struggling for breath. That's the only memory that stays. How do you escape this place?
Suddenly, you're back outside the house. Footsteps echo around you. The weight of the world is on your shoulders. The moon crashes towards the Earth, its fractures casting a beautiful yet terrifying purple glow.
Gravity bears down on you. You fall to your knees, the UI flashing a warning: "Oxygen low...3%." You're on the verge of hyperventilating.
You glance up at the sky. The space station glows in the distance.
All around you, the world dissolves into a riot of colors, ducks everywhere.
For a split second. You see a giant astronaut in the garden elevated.
Again. I’m at the station. All screens have ducks. I glitch.
Back in the garden. My screen cracks. UI has gone berserk. Nothin makes sense anymore. The astronaut glitches and it transforms into a giant plush toy raccoon.
Looks at me. His eyes start to glow and I look at him. A child comes running to me and hugs me. I cry. Suddenly, there's nothing but darkness.
The sun is black. The Earth is still. A space station glides across the tranquil blackness, a lone red light blinking. An astronaut emerges, floats out, disappearing into the void. The Earth rotates, revealing a moon embedded into it.