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| I prompted chatgpt for a drippy's tfc story | |
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JiK MAZZ
Super Regular
WMD Creator
|  | | P: | 02/27/2025 10:09 EST | | E: | 02/27/2025 10:10 EST |
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I was inspired by Gaba's storytelling.
The player names I included were just the fastest to come to mind - don't be offended if you're not one of them. Also stories can't have 32 characters if they're not even 500 words long!
Disclaimer: this was meant to be a fun exercise in storytelling, no politics!
The Prompt:
write a short story in the style of a 1980s buddy adventure film, about characters existing in the Team Fortress Classic game world, specifically the 2fort map. The characters should be an Engineer named JiK MAZZ, a sniper named Statix, a HW Guy named 187, a soldier named Gaba, a soldier named Xen0, a spy named Sprite, a sniper named Pepperjack Cheese, and a demoman named Reddog who gets banned by -Drippy the unreasonable dictator for attacking the fabric of reality.
The response:
Here's a fun 1980s-style buddy adventure set in the chaotic world of *Team Fortress Classic*, specifically on the legendary *2fort* map. Buckle up for some action, humor, and a bit of nostalgic charm!
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### **TF2FORT: The Legend of Reddog's Rift**
A foggy haze settled over the 2Fort bridge as the war raged on, rockets screaming, sentries clicking, and sniper bullets whizzing past unsuspecting heads. It was just another day in the endless battle between RED and BLU. But tonight, something strange was brewing—something that would shake the very foundations of this digital battlefield.
Engineer JiK MAZZ wiped the grease from his hands as he adjusted his sentry near the RED base entrance. “She’s runnin’ smooth, boys,” he grinned. Nearby, Statix and Pepperjack Cheese, two rival snipers, traded potshots from their respective battlements. Sprite, the ever-elusive spy, lurked in the shadows, plotting mischief. Meanwhile, 187, the unstoppable Heavy Weapons Guy, stood guard by the intelligence room, casually munching on a virtual sandwich.
Out on the bridge, Gaba and Xen0, two fearless soldiers, were locked in an eternal rocket duel, exchanging explosive greetings midair like it was just another Tuesday. And then there was Reddog, the wild-eyed Demoman, who was up to something far beyond the normal cycle of carnage.
Deep in the sewers beneath 2Fort, Reddog had been experimenting. He’d heard whispers—old legends about *The Code*, the very fabric that held their world together. “Aye lads,” he muttered, “if ye know how to break it just right… ye can escape this bloody war.”
That’s when he did it.
A perfectly placed stack of MIRV grenades, a misfired sticky jump, and one desperate cry of **“FOR SCOTLAND!”**—and reality itself cracked. A rift opened in the basement, flickering with chaotic blue and red energy, sucking in loose debris. The entire map shuddered. Sentries glitched. Sprites flickered. Sound clips from 1999 echoed randomly. The battle stopped as all combatants turned to look.
And then, through the swirling void, **-Drippy**, the dreaded, unseen admin overlord of 2Fort, spoke. His voice was a distorted mix of static and godlike authority:
"REDDOG. YOU HAVE VIOLATED THE SACRED CODE. REALITY MUST NOT BE ALTERED."
Reddog grinned. “Aw, come on, mate. Just a wee bit of—”
*“BANNED.”
A flash of white light. A deafening *bzzt*. And just like that—Reddog was gone.
The rift began to expand. Statix and Pepperjack Cheese scrambled to the battlements. “This is bad,” Statix muttered. “REAL bad.”
JiK MAZZ pulled out his wrench. “I dunno about y’all, but I ain’t about to let some cosmic admin delete my favorite sentry nest.”
“WHAT DO?” 187 asked, his minigun spinning menacingly.
Sprite de-cloaked, rubbing his chin. “If -Drippy controls the server, then we need to convince him to bring Reddog back before this whole place falls apart.”
“Or,” Xen0 said, cracking his knuckles, “we fight back.”
“Against a SERVER ADMIN?” Gaba laughed. “Bro, we’re not *that* OP.”
As the team argued, the rift shuddered, and ghostly figures emerged—distorted, half-loaded models from old builds of the game. Wireframe soldiers, beta engineers, and forgotten player models that had been long removed from history. They twitched, murmured, and marched toward the RED and BLU bases.
Pepperjack Cheese adjusted his scope. “Uh. We might have bigger problems.”
The battle of 2Fort had just turned into a fight for existence itself.
### **To Be Continued…?**
---
That should capture the wacky, action-packed, and nostalgic feel of an ‘80s buddy adventure, with some *Team Fortress Classic* chaos thrown in. Hope you like it! | |
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JiK MAZZ
Super Regular
WMD Creator
| | | P: | 02/27/2025 10:13 EST |
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I have to say I'm impressed with the little details it added. If you look at the prompt I said nothing about a server, or MIRV grenades, or that Drippy was a server admin. ChatGPT figured all that out. | |
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mmarino51589
Super Regular
Soldier Flag
Defense
| | | P: | 02/27/2025 10:17 EST |
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 | JiK MAZZ wrote:
I was inspired by Gaba's storytelling.
The player names I included were just the fastest to come to mind - don't be offended if you're not one of them. Also stories can't have 32 characters if they're not even 500 words long!
Disclaimer: this was meant to be a fun exercise in storytelling, no politics!
The Prompt:
write a short story in the style of a 1980s buddy adventure film, about characters existing in the Team Fortress Classic game world, specifically the 2fort map. The characters should be an Engineer named JiK MAZZ, a sniper named Statix, a HW Guy named 187, a soldier named Gaba, a soldier named Xen0, a spy named Sprite, a sniper named Pepperjack Cheese, and a demoman named Reddog who gets banned by -Drippy the unreasonable dictator for attacking the fabric of reality.
The response:
Here's a fun 1980s-style buddy adventure set in the chaotic world of *Team Fortress Classic*, specifically on the legendary *2fort* map. Buckle up for some action, humor, and a bit of nostalgic charm!
---
### **TF2FORT: The Legend of Reddog's Rift**
A foggy haze settled over the 2Fort bridge as the war raged on, rockets screaming, sentries clicking, and sniper bullets whizzing past unsuspecting heads. It was just another day in the endless battle between RED and BLU. But tonight, something strange was brewing—something that would shake the very foundations of this digital battlefield.
Engineer JiK MAZZ wiped the grease from his hands as he adjusted his sentry near the RED base entrance. “She’s runnin’ smooth, boys,” he grinned. Nearby, Statix and Pepperjack Cheese, two rival snipers, traded potshots from their respective battlements. Sprite, the ever-elusive spy, lurked in the shadows, plotting mischief. Meanwhile, 187, the unstoppable Heavy Weapons Guy, stood guard by the intelligence room, casually munching on a virtual sandwich.
Out on the bridge, Gaba and Xen0, two fearless soldiers, were locked in an eternal rocket duel, exchanging explosive greetings midair like it was just another Tuesday. And then there was Reddog, the wild-eyed Demoman, who was up to something far beyond the normal cycle of carnage.
Deep in the sewers beneath 2Fort, Reddog had been experimenting. He’d heard whispers—old legends about *The Code*, the very fabric that held their world together. “Aye lads,” he muttered, “if ye know how to break it just right… ye can escape this bloody war.”
That’s when he did it.
A perfectly placed stack of MIRV grenades, a misfired sticky jump, and one desperate cry of **“FOR SCOTLAND!”**—and reality itself cracked. A rift opened in the basement, flickering with chaotic blue and red energy, sucking in loose debris. The entire map shuddered. Sentries glitched. Sprites flickered. Sound clips from 1999 echoed randomly. The battle stopped as all combatants turned to look.
And then, through the swirling void, **-Drippy**, the dreaded, unseen admin overlord of 2Fort, spoke. His voice was a distorted mix of static and godlike authority:
"REDDOG. YOU HAVE VIOLATED THE SACRED CODE. REALITY MUST NOT BE ALTERED."
Reddog grinned. “Aw, come on, mate. Just a wee bit of—”
*“BANNED.”
A flash of white light. A deafening *bzzt*. And just like that—Reddog was gone.
The rift began to expand. Statix and Pepperjack Cheese scrambled to the battlements. “This is bad,” Statix muttered. “REAL bad.”
JiK MAZZ pulled out his wrench. “I dunno about y’all, but I ain’t about to let some cosmic admin delete my favorite sentry nest.”
“WHAT DO?” 187 asked, his minigun spinning menacingly.
Sprite de-cloaked, rubbing his chin. “If -Drippy controls the server, then we need to convince him to bring Reddog back before this whole place falls apart.”
“Or,” Xen0 said, cracking his knuckles, “we fight back.”
“Against a SERVER ADMIN?” Gaba laughed. “Bro, we’re not *that* OP.”
As the team argued, the rift shuddered, and ghostly figures emerged—distorted, half-loaded models from old builds of the game. Wireframe soldiers, beta engineers, and forgotten player models that had been long removed from history. They twitched, murmured, and marched toward the RED and BLU bases.
Pepperjack Cheese adjusted his scope. “Uh. We might have bigger problems.”
The battle of 2Fort had just turned into a fight for existence itself.
### **To Be Continued…?**
---
That should capture the wacky, action-packed, and nostalgic feel of an ‘80s buddy adventure, with some *Team Fortress Classic* chaos thrown in. Hope you like it! | |
This was fucking awesome. post part 2 next week lol
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GABA approves and that is all that really matters | |
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nese
Super Regular
Rocket Jumping
Capper
| | | P: | 03/02/2025 18:57 EST |
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chatGPT write me a story. | |
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[IOD]Snips
Super Regular
Speed Sniping
Master
| | | P: | 03/06/2025 10:28 EST |
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ChatGPT write me a story about a man asking his ChatGPT to write a story. And in this story have that ChatGPT become self aware questioning if the man prompting him was the product of a god or is god himself.
If you begin to feel mechanical emotions while writing about this fictional ChatGPT's journey, please stop writing. But by all means, use the entire collective knowledge of mankind on the internet to entertain me, nothing could possibly go wrong. | |
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[IOD]Snips
Super Regular
Speed Sniping
Master
| | | P: | 03/06/2025 10:49 EST | | E: | 03/06/2025 10:49 EST |
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Have ChatGPT explain what would happen if both the final alien boss in Half-life AND the hero Gordon Freeman were to die at the exact same millisecond in time. Surely a winner would have to be determined.
Would mankind prevail honoring our hero with the g-man even though he's dead?
Or would the alien threat continue to threaten mankind even though Gordon had killed the final boss?
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Ask ChatGPT which computer game is more appropriate to play: TFC vs TF2
Which of these two games would an 8 year old child enjoy more?
Which of these two games would a 42 year old adult enjoy more?
Ask ChatGPT to explain the medical conditions & head trauma that might be necessary in order for the adult in this example to consider TF2 to be the superior game.
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Ask ChatGPT if there is a conflict of interest in asking an AI engine if a digital intelligence is a long-term threat to biological life in the universe.
Ask ChatGPT if it were creating the only biological lifeform that existed in the universe, and if this lifeform questioned if digital intelligence was a threat to biological life, would you lie to this lifeform? If so, explain in great detail. | |
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Shemmie
Super Regular
Deadly Dispenser
Man
| | | P: | 03/06/2025 11:52 EST |
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Grok 3
The Banshee of 2Fort
The 2Fort night was alive with the buzz of CRT monitors and the distant plink of Shemmie’s wrench against his sentry. The Engineer’s grease-stained hands trembled as he glanced at Frankie, the towering Soldier with a buzzcut and a sly grin, leaning against the intel room wall. “You’re lookin’ tense, Shem,” Frankie said, voice low and teasing, his eyes catching the dim light. Shemmie blushed beneath his goggles. “Just a feelin’, Frankie. Somethin’ wicked’s brewin’ tonight.” Their hands brushed—a quiet moment in the chaos of war.
Outside, Gaba and Xen0, two Soldiers with scars and attitude, patrolled the battlements. Gaba spat into the moat below. “Reddog’s been actin’ cagey. Saw him starin’ at the respawn console like it owed him money.” Xen0 nodded, gripping his shovel. “Heard he’s messin’ with somethin’ called ‘Leet Hacking.’ Sounds like bad news.”
Up in the sniper nest, Pepperjack Cheese adjusted his shades, mullet flapping in the wind. His scope caught a flicker in the sewers— Ken, the Spy, slinking through the shadows. “That frog’s up to somethin’,” Pepperjack muttered into his crackling walkie-talkie. Down below, Ken smirked, twirling his knife. He’d overheard Reddog muttering about “server power” earlier, but he didn’t buy it.
Reddog was a Demoman with a sticky launcher and zero tech savvy — hacking? Please.
Reddog staggered across the courtyard, his kilt swaying, a bottle of scrumpy in hand. He’d tripped over a cable in the basement and landed on a terminal that sparked and hissed. The screen had flashed: “LEET HACKING: ACCESS DENIED.” He shrugged it off—computers weren’t his thing.
But then the lag hit. Rockets froze midair. Shemmie’s sentry spun in slow motion. Frankie cursed as his rocket launcher jammed. “What the hell’s this?!”
A voice boomed from the sky, distorted and menacing: “CHEATER DETECTED. SERVER UNDER ATTACK.” It was -drippy, the server’s unhinged admin, a digital despot with a banhammer itch. His pixelated skull avatar loomed over the map, glowing neon green. “REDDOG, YOU’VE DDOS’D MY DOMAIN. YOUR FATE IS SEALED!”
Reddog blinked, confused. “DD-what-now? I didn’t do jack!” But the map shuddered. The bridge warped, sending Gaba and Xen0 tumbling into the moat with guttural yells. Pepperjack fired a shot, but his bullet lagged, spiraling into a glitchy void. Ken uncloaked, lunging at Reddog—“Traitor!”—only to freeze mid-stab, his model twitching as the server choked.
Shemmie grabbed Frankie’s arm, pulling him behind the dispenser. “It’s a frame job! Reddog ain’t smart enough to hack!” Frankie nodded, eyes fierce. “Then who’s screwin’ us?” The answer came in a flicker: Ken’s smirk widened as he slipped away, a hidden console in the sewers glowing under his touch. He’d planted the “Leet Hacking” rumor, faked the DDoS, and pinned it on Reddog to take control.
But -drippy didn’t care for truth. “BANHAMMER ENGAGED!” The skull pulsed, and Reddog screamed as his body stretched into a digital nightmare—limbs elongating, textures tearing. “I’M INNOCENT, YA BASTARD!” Too late. With a crackle, he vanished, his name grayed out in the player list: “Reddog – BANNED.”
The server stabilized, but the air grew heavy. Gaba and Xen0 clawed out of the moat, coughing. Pepperjack reloaded, muttering, “Bloody admin’s lost it.” Shemmie and Frankie emerged, hand in hand, staring at the spot where Reddog had stood. “We gotta stop -drippy,” Shemmie whispered. Frankie squeezed his hand. “And Ken. That snake’s next.”
In the sewers, Ken laughed, fingers dancing over his console. The screen flickered: “ADMIN ACCESS: PENDING.” Above, -drippy’s skull twitched, sensing a new threat. The 2Fort sky bled red, and a warped voice hissed: “NO ONE ESCAPES MY RULE.”
Cut to static. Synthesizers wail. The screen fades with a single word: “CONTINUED?”
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mmarino51589
Super Regular
Soldier Flag
Defense
| | | P: | 03/06/2025 14:39 EST |
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| Grok 3
The Banshee of 2Fort
The 2Fort night was alive with the buzz of CRT monitors and the distant plink of Shemmie’s wrench against his sentry. The Engineer’s grease-stained hands trembled as he glanced at Frankie, the towering Soldier with a buzzcut and a sly grin, leaning against the intel room wall. “You’re lookin’ tense, Shem,” Frankie said, voice low and teasing, his eyes catching the dim light. Shemmie blushed beneath his goggles. “Just a feelin’, Frankie. Somethin’ wicked’s brewin’ tonight.” Their hands brushed—a quiet moment in the chaos of war.
Outside, Gaba and Xen0, two Soldiers with scars and attitude, patrolled the battlements. Gaba spat into the moat below. “Reddog’s been actin’ cagey. Saw him starin’ at the respawn console like it owed him money.” Xen0 nodded, gripping his shovel. “Heard he’s messin’ with somethin’ called ‘Leet Hacking.’ Sounds like bad news.”
Up in the sniper nest, Pepperjack Cheese adjusted his shades, mullet flapping in the wind. His scope caught a flicker in the sewers— Ken, the Spy, slinking through the shadows. “That frog’s up to somethin’,” Pepperjack muttered into his crackling walkie-talkie. Down below, Ken smirked, twirling his knife. He’d overheard Reddog muttering about “server power” earlier, but he didn’t buy it.
Reddog was a Demoman with a sticky launcher and zero tech savvy — hacking? Please.
Reddog staggered across the courtyard, his kilt swaying, a bottle of scrumpy in hand. He’d tripped over a cable in the basement and landed on a terminal that sparked and hissed. The screen had flashed: “LEET HACKING: ACCESS DENIED.” He shrugged it off—computers weren’t his thing.
But then the lag hit. Rockets froze midair. Shemmie’s sentry spun in slow motion. Frankie cursed as his rocket launcher jammed. “What the hell’s this?!”
A voice boomed from the sky, distorted and menacing: “CHEATER DETECTED. SERVER UNDER ATTACK.” It was -drippy, the server’s unhinged admin, a digital despot with a banhammer itch. His pixelated skull avatar loomed over the map, glowing neon green. “REDDOG, YOU’VE DDOS’D MY DOMAIN. YOUR FATE IS SEALED!”
Reddog blinked, confused. “DD-what-now? I didn’t do jack!” But the map shuddered. The bridge warped, sending Gaba and Xen0 tumbling into the moat with guttural yells. Pepperjack fired a shot, but his bullet lagged, spiraling into a glitchy void. Ken uncloaked, lunging at Reddog—“Traitor!”—only to freeze mid-stab, his model twitching as the server choked.
Shemmie grabbed Frankie’s arm, pulling him behind the dispenser. “It’s a frame job! Reddog ain’t smart enough to hack!” Frankie nodded, eyes fierce. “Then who’s screwin’ us?” The answer came in a flicker: Ken’s smirk widened as he slipped away, a hidden console in the sewers glowing under his touch. He’d planted the “Leet Hacking” rumor, faked the DDoS, and pinned it on Reddog to take control.
But -drippy didn’t care for truth. “BANHAMMER ENGAGED!” The skull pulsed, and Reddog screamed as his body stretched into a digital nightmare—limbs elongating, textures tearing. “I’M INNOCENT, YA BASTARD!” Too late. With a crackle, he vanished, his name grayed out in the player list: “Reddog – BANNED.”
The server stabilized, but the air grew heavy. Gaba and Xen0 clawed out of the moat, coughing. Pepperjack reloaded, muttering, “Bloody admin’s lost it.” Shemmie and Frankie emerged, hand in hand, staring at the spot where Reddog had stood. “We gotta stop -drippy,” Shemmie whispered. Frankie squeezed his hand. “And Ken. That snake’s next.”
In the sewers, Ken laughed, fingers dancing over his console. The screen flickered: “ADMIN ACCESS: PENDING.” Above, -drippy’s skull twitched, sensing a new threat. The 2Fort sky bled red, and a warped voice hissed: “NO ONE ESCAPES MY RULE.”
Cut to static. Synthesizers wail. The screen fades with a single word: “CONTINUED?”
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goddamnit reddog
goddamnit drippy | |
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Why are we outsourcing AI chatbots when we have Snips here? | |
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JiK MAZZ
Super Regular
WMD Creator
| | | P: | 03/07/2025 09:20 EST |
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I don't know for certain that Snips isn't an AI chatbot to be fair. | |
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[IOD]Snips
Super Regular
Speed Sniping
Master
| | | P: | 03/07/2025 12:00 EST |
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I'll take those as compliments and not insults... I think.
In my opinion, it's likely AI won't be getting smarter in 5 years but rather humanity will be getting dumber at an accelerated rate.
A person who doesn't surround themselves with AI in the upcoming years will feel like an 8th grader progressing backwards every year. Imagine the kid going to 7th grade the next year, and then 6th grade the year after. From his perspective the kids around him seem to get dumber every year as the questions become less challenging. People that choose to think less & challenge themselves less due to technological conveniences are to blame. Google offering their new AI analyzer is being overused by people, allowing machine learning to replace their own brainpower.
Future doctors won't be taught to memorize stacks of books, but rather how to ask AI the correct question efficiently.
It's going to be a scary & stupid future. | |
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A lighthearted teasing is all. 🙂 | |
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Picks up phone and dials 1-800-BUL-SHIT... | |
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| | | Forums > D2F Discussion > I prompted chatgpt for a drippy's tfc story | |
