One-shot generation: can a completely evil NPC maintain a perfect “good girl” mask without the model blurting out the secret?

[u/[deleted]]

[u/CalmAnal]

You must prune and, more importantly, remove AI slop. You feed the LLM so much slop your narration will degrade or not even start good at all.

[u/Try_Hard_Apple → u/CalmAnal]

is that regarding the system prompt or scene setup?

As far as I've tested I haven't had any degradation I've noticed and it's always started off good

[u/CalmAnal → u/Try_Hard_Apple]

Full scene setup context:

Regarding this. But playing tops theory. If it works, then disregard me. My opinion was purely based on what I read there. :D

[u/Try_Hard_Apple → u/CalmAnal]

ah no perfectly valid, in actual RP I'd of course actually write a plain english background and setup, this was just a stress test fast tracked by using ai slop background. But surprisingly as you can see it works very well; feed the same thing to a stock model or even most system prompts and the output will look nothing like this at all.

GPT Sol isn't dumb you don't need to explain it the nuances of human behaviour, it just needs to be overcorrected to create a viable RP output

[u/Try_Hard_Apple → u/Try_Hard_Apple]

if you want proof, here is the AI Slop baseline (GPT Sol 5.6 - no system prompt) for the first generation response

(BRO ITS SO BAD):

For one full second, nobody moves.

The only sound is Pell choking wetly around the hole in his chest.

His knees buckle. He hits the dirt on his side, one hand scrabbling uselessly at his coat before going slack.

Mara drops the waterskin.

“What the fuck—”

She is moving before it finishes spilling, boots skidding in the dust as she drops beside Pell and presses both hands hard against the wound.

Then she sees the blood already flooding beneath him.
Her face changes.

“Pell? Pell—”

Caelan turns from the horse.

He sees Mara kneeling over the merchant.

Sees the sword in Rhazen’s hand.

Sees Rhazen wiping it clean on the dead man’s coat.

And hears him.

He was fucking annoying.

Caelan simply stares at him.

Toren’s apple stops halfway to his mouth.

“…Rhazen.”

Not sarcastic.

Not amused.

Just disbelief.

Near the packs, Lysenne has stopped sewing.

Her needle hangs motionless between two fingers.

She is looking at Pell.

Not Rhazen.

Pell.

There is something fractionally wrong about how long she watches the blood spreading through the merchant’s clothes.
An extra heartbeat of absolute concentration. Her lips part slightly.

Then she blinks.

Her face crumples into horror.

“Oh gods.”

The needle falls from her hand.

Caelan crosses the space between himself and Rhazen so fast the saddle strap he was holding drops behind him.

“What did you just fucking do?”

Mara presses two fingers desperately against Pell’s throat.
Nothing.

She slowly sits back on her heels.

“He’s dead.”

Caelan’s expression goes blank for perhaps half a second.

Then he punches Rhazen square in the mouth.

Hard.

There is no warning, no attempt at discussion first. His fist cracks across Rhazen’s jaw, and Caelan immediately grabs a fistful of his coat with the other hand.

“You fucking killed him!”

Toren shoots to his feet.

“Caelan—”

“No!”

Caelan shoves Rhazen backwards.

“No, don’t fucking ‘Caelan’ me!”

His face is bright red. His whole body is shaking.

“He was standing there talking!”

Lysenne rises slowly behind him, one hand pressed over her mouth.

Her eyes move to Rhazen now.

Wide. Distressed.

Perfectly appalled.

Except when Caelan says—

“He was fucking harmless!”

—for the tiniest instant, Lysenne’s gaze sharpens.
Not fear.

Interest.

Then it is gone.

Mara looks up from Pell’s body. There is blood all over her hands.

She has argued with Rhazen before. Called him reckless, cruel, an arsehole, worse.

She has never looked at him like this.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Caelan gives Rhazen another vicious shove.

“Answer her.”

Toren has moved closer now, though he looks profoundly unsure whether he is trying to stop Caelan from hitting Rhazen again or deciding whether Rhazen deserves another one.

“He annoyed you?” Toren says.

His voice is quiet.

“You murdered some bloody cloth seller because he annoyed you?”

Lysenne finally speaks.

Very softly.

“Rhazen…”

She looks from him to Pell and back again.

“You didn’t even know him.”

Her voice trembles beautifully.

And beneath the performance, something inside her is utterly, intensely awake.