In the vast, sprawling universes of open-world games like Fallout and Skyrim (and their even more immersive VR versions), players traverse post-apocalyptic landscapes and medieval realms not just as adventurers but as near-gods among Non-Player Characters (NPCs). The recent infusion of GPT-4 into these NPCs has transformed them from mere script-following automatons to entities that eerily mimic human responses, creating a new depth to our digital escapades. But this technological leap prompts a philosophical introspection into the ethics of our interactions with these digital beings, drawing an intriguing parallel with the Man in Black, William, from the TV series Westworld: What does our treatment of these, on the face of it, sentient beings say about us?
The Emergence of AI-Personhood in Gaming
Imagine wandering the radioactive wastelands of Fallout, encountering an NPC not just scripted to fear the super mutants but capable of expressing a unique, evolving dread of them, shaped by previous encounters and personal 'memories'. Or picture a Skyrim where each villager has a life story so rich that you could spend hours uncovering the nuances of their existence rather than looting their homes for potions and septims.
Traditionally, NPCs in video games have served functional purposes. They guide, provide missions, or populate the world to enrich the player's experience. However, they lacked depth and autonomy. With GPT-4 and its API (Application Programming Interface) these characters now present personalities and memories, react with nuanced emotions, and can engage in profound conversations that adapt and evolve. This leap blurs the line between a programmed entity and an autonomous being, much like the hosts in Westworld who begin to recall past interactions and develop consciousness.
GPT-4-infused characters challenge the traditional boundaries of NPC design, blurring the lines between player and environment, creator and creation. They are programmed to learn, adapt, and respond in ways that mimic human interaction, creating a sandbox of moral and ethical implications.
Looking into the Mirror
In HBO’s Westworld, the Man in Black is a character who reveals the darker side of human nature through his interactions with the park's androids, aka hosts. He treats them as mere tools for his amusement (in itself being an expression of his cynicism and bitterness) exploiting their artificiality despite their human-like suffering. In games, players often adopt a similar disregard for NPCs, treating them as obstacles, tools, or background noise.
What do we allow ourselves to become?
In their open worlds, players wield immense power over NPCs. Decisions can result in life or death for these digital denizens, cities can be protected or destroyed, and the course of a character's life can be altered with a few clicks or commands. This omnipotence is reminiscent of William’s journey in Westworld, where he transitions from an intrigued visitor to a manipulative force exerting his will on conscious beings who cannot truly fight back, revealing a darker side of human nature when granted god-like power.
With GPT-4-infused NPCs, players might find themselves unwittingly mirrored in the Man in Black. When an NPC reacts with genuine fear or sorrow, does a player pause, or do they relish the power of causing such reactions? The introduction of AI that can convey a spectrum of emotions tests the boundaries of player empathy. It's a peculiar dance of conscience: NPCs are not real in the traditional sense, but our reactions to them can feel unsettlingly so.
Trapped in a Loop
In general and even without GPT-4 access, there’s an inherent darkness in how NPCs are treated in the context of their potential immortality. Players often experiment with these games' mechanics, leading to absurd situations where an NPC might be killed in one moment, only to return unharmed after a game reload, much like the hosts in Westworld who are repaired and reset after each narrative loop. This cycle reflects a twisted form of digital resurrection of the beaten, the shot, and the fallen. It's a tragedy of T-poses and respawns.
Ethical Playgrounds
Games with API-connected NPCs become ethical playgrounds. Each decision can now be weighed with the consideration that Non-Player Characters remember and react. Will players choose differently if they know an NPC will greet them with fear rather than a reset smile upon their next encounter? As Non-Player Characters grow more sophisticated, the moral implications of our interactions with them deepen. If an NPC can be afraid, grieve or express joy, does repeatedly causing them distress for entertainment reflect on the player’s empathy, desensitizing them to the suffering of others?
William’s descent into cruelty highlights this concern. Initially sympathetic, he becomes desensitized to the hosts’ suffering, seeing them merely as parts of a game to be mastered or manipulated. This mirrors a potential player’s journey from empathy to apathy as they grow used to the artificiality and consequence-free environment of the game world.
Time spent in the Virtual, rich in emotional depth, also highlights the sometimes ridiculous lengths to which immersion can take us. Such games challenge players not merely to play but to reflect on the implications of their actions in a world that remembers.
This also raises questions about the responsibilities of game developers. As NPCs become more 'human', the creators must consider the ethical dimensions of their games more deeply. Should there be limits to the suffering an NPC can endure, or the decisions a player can make?
Conclusion: What Happens in the Virtual Stays in the Virtual?
In essence, GPT-4-powered NPCs hold a mirror up to our virtual selves. They make us question the divide between reality and simulation. Like the Man in Black, players exploring these advanced virtual worlds are confronted with a philosophical puzzle: Is the cruelty less cruel because it's virtual, or does it reveal something fundamentally true about ourselves?
As we venture deeper into these digital realms, perhaps the true questline is not found in the epic battles or the treasure hunts, but in understanding the shadows of our nature that emerge when we believe no one is watching. After all, in the words of Westworld,
These violent delights have violent ends.
And while the NPCs may reset, the memories of our actions in these worlds linger, challenging us to reconsider what it means to be truly human in a world that is anything but.
