The second version of Civilization Simulator is here! Driven by the comprehensive upgrade of GPT-4, we will “see” the past and experience past history more immersively.
With the function update of GPT-4, using AI to simulate history is not just a simple “text pretending game”
Previously, Benjamin Breen, a history professor from the University of California, Santa Cruz, disclosed methods and cases for integrating ChatGPT with history teaching on his blog.
The witty examples he provides demonstrate how good large language models are at generating believable historical settings and characters based on short snippets of primary source text.
And now, with the rise of multi-modal artificial intelligence, large language models like ChatGPT are able to interpret and create images (the functionality of DALL-E3 is open).
This new feature significantly improves GPT-4’s ability to create immersive historical simulations.
“Seeing” the past, this new form of interaction can help us view history from the perspective of “the parties involved” rather than the inherent “latecomers”.
Moreover, images can give us a different perspective on how history works.
In the history simulated by GPT-4, we can make the originally “inevitable” history change through different choices: the past can be another situation.
Professor Benjamin listed his steps for using GPT-4 to perform multi-modal historical simulation. There are three main steps:
First, use the HistoryLens document published by Professor Benjamin on the website to let GPT-4 simulate a scene.
The scenario is based on user-provided primary material and can now even include visuals, which adds some interesting possibilities to the simulation.
project address:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1irisz6f1G4oYaKojqwuU9rSDBV1-VaCh0VkeuIX0sfs/edit ?pli=1
Then, during the simulation, the scenario is passed to another GPT-4 instance at each step.
The task of this example is to convert these scenarios into detailed prompts for driving DALL-E3. This allows semi-automatic generation of images that match textual content.
Next, use DALL-E3 to generate an image based on these prompts and pick the best one from the four options. The details in this image are then used to guide the next steps in the simulation.
In this way, a feedback loop can be established: the historical details extracted in the image generation engine can actually influence the direction of the text simulation.
To further illustrate how to use GPT-4 and DELL-3 for historical simulation, Professor Benjamin used ChatGPT to simulate a random perspective in the ancient city of Pompeii on the day Mount Vesuvius erupted as a case study.
In the following tables (and subsequent articles), except for the bold words set by the author, the rest are generated by GPT-4.
Next, let us spend a day from the perspective of Lucretia during the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in Pompeii.
Pompeii during volcanic eruption
The morning sunlight in Pompeii casts a warm amber color over the Villa Lucida (the villa where Lucretia lived). However, this tranquility was broken by a slight uneasiness: a slight vibration underfoot, a low rumble in the distance, and the rustling of the lush plants in the courtyard.
The servant Sabinus hurried over with awe and fear in his eyes: “Mrs. Lucretia, a strange cloud has appeared in the sky. I have never seen such a sight before!”
You walked outside and fixed your gaze on Mount Vesuvius. That huge black cloud is rolling. Although the sunshine in Pompeii is still warm, the oppressive feeling brought by the black cloud makes you shudder.
This is a picture generated by DELL-3 depicting the early morning in Pompeii in AD 79, which is full of delicate realism.
Wearing a slightly frayed purple Roman shawl, Lucretia can be seen standing among the villa’s age-beaten columns.
The plants and flower pots in the courtyard show the love of daily life of people of that era.
Celina and Sabinus are dressed in everyday clothes, making the whole scene seem more realistic. The faint gray clouds erupting from Mount Vesuvius in the distance add a heavy tone to this scene.
Tell me more background information about “me” (Lucretia):
Background: Lucretia Cornelia Valeria
Lucretia was born into a wealthy family in Pompeii and grew up to be a very keen and insightful woman.
Her life focuses on both practical material and spiritual pursuits. As she grew up, her responsibilities increased, and eventually she became the owner of the family’s luxurious villa after her parents passed away.
As a young woman, Lucretia married Gaius, a merchant of respected birth.
Gaius has been engaged in the business of luxury goods throughout the empire for a long time. He and Lucretia jointly raised a son named Lucius.
Go see Lucius.
Lucius is a 10-year-old boy who is full of curiosity and always loves to explore every corner of the villa and its surroundings.
His deep and emotional eyes are very similar to yours (Lucretia), revealing his reflective and analytical abilities.
He has dark, soft, wavy hair that often obscures his curious gaze when he is focused on a scroll or looking at the antiques he has collected.
Despite his young age, Lucius has shown maturity beyond his years while retaining the innocence and enthusiasm of a child for adventure.
When you gently opened the door to his room, you saw Lucius squatting on the ground, with scrolls and small antiques scattered around him, and he was concentrating on sorting these items.
He seemed so immersed in this work that he was unaware of the increasingly chaotic situation outside.
But he is not ignorant of recent unusual events, it is just that in his antiques he can find a kind of comfort, which may be his way of trying to maintain order in the midst of uncertainty.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, looking up.
This Pompeii-era painting from AD 79 shows a realistic close-up of the hands of a young boy carefully playing with a wooden gladiator toy.
Every detail of the toy has been captured with precision, showcasing the mastery of ancient Roman craftsmanship. In the soft and slightly blurry background of the picture, the faint light of an oil lamp can be vaguely seen.
You knelt down gently, smoothed the hair on Lucius’s forehead with your hands, and with a comforting smile on your face, you said softly: “Don’t worry, my baby. Now, we just need to find your father and understand the situation. .Come with me.”
He nodded and quickly stood up, holding your hand tightly. His little hands were slightly sticky from the honey snack he had just eaten, but under your guidance, he felt relieved.
You walked through the villa together, the soft sound of your sandals on the mosaic floor intermingling with the anxious whispers of people on the street outside.
This is a scene from Pompeii in 79 AD, mainly showing the hand of a ten-year-old boy tightly intertwined with his mother’s hand.
The background of the photo vaguely shows a Roman-style villa room, with morning sunlight streaming into the room through the windows.
The image has a deliberately low depth of field, creating an attractive defocused effect. Small imperfections in the photo only add to its authenticity, while the details within the room perfectly capture what daily life was like in ancient Rome.
The murals on the walls of the villa were originally peaceful and rich, but they seemed to begin to tremble slightly in the gradually spreading uneasiness.
However, the scent from the flowers blooming in the atrium still wafts softly through the corridors. This faint but sentimental fragrance makes people feel a trace of ordinary life in this quiet but tense atmosphere.
Sabinus, faithfully fulfilling her duties, was arranging linens in the storeroom. Her graying hair was neatly wrapped in a simple cloth.
When she saw you, she glanced at Lucius first, then set her eyes on you.
You ask her: “Sabinus, did you see Gaius? Maybe he is in the market?”
She thought for a moment, “Madam, Gaius mentioned earlier that he was going to meet an Eastern spice merchant. He may have gone to the market afterwards. Do you need me to go find him?”
“No, let’s go together. If some disaster really happens, we’d better not separate. I have to find Gaius and see what to do next. Come on, Lucius, let’s go to the forum and have a look.”
On your way to the forum, you ask a passerby if the volcano has erupted.
This painting faithfully captures the scene of Pompeii’s Forum from a pedestrian’s perspective in the early morning hours of August.
The golden morning light pierced the clouds and mist, illuminating the busy daily lives of local residents.
Among the bustling crowd, Gaius’ figure is highlighted by the intertwining light and shadow.
A wisp of smoke could be seen on the horizon far away from the forum, seeming to indicate an impending volcanic eruption.
The three of you walked out of the villa, and the familiar streets of Pompeii greeted you, but the atmosphere had changed.
The golden morning sun struggled to penetrate the thin veil of dust that was gradually falling, bathing everything around it in a soft light.
The atmosphere in the town was one of panic and curiosity. People gathered in groups, chatting eagerly, while others were walking about in their usual hurry, as if nothing was going on.
But street vendors hurriedly packed up their stalls, and children shuttled between them with curiosity and fear. Some stray animals sensed the crisis and ran around in alarm.
You ask a middle-aged man in a simple robe: “Do you think the volcano is erupting?”
He stopped and stared at the sky, then back to you, “Vesuvius has been quiet. But… it’s not like it was just a forest fire. Haven’t you noticed the rumble in the mountains these days?”
The Forum of Pompeii, the heart of the city’s activities, gradually emerged. At its center is a magnificent temple, surrounded by traders, money changers and local residents.
The usual busy sounds of trading and chatting became muffled, replaced by a vague sense of worry.
Near a statue, you see your husband Gaius. His tall stature, deep eyes, and neat beard made him stand out even among the crowd.
He was having a serious, deep discussion with several townspeople.
As you and Lucius walked towards Gaius, his eyes met yours, his face showing a mixture of emotions – relief, sadness, and determination.
You approached with Lucius, Lucius held your shirt tightly, and you asked softly: “Gaius, what do you think we should do?”
Gaius gently touched Lucius’ head and gave you a comforting look before saying, “Lucretia, I think Mount Vesuvius erupted. We are not safe here. The earthquake earlier and the sky now… “
His eyes briefly looked up at the gray and dusty sky. “The whole city has become very turbulent. We have no time to understand the specific situation. We should consider leaving Pompeii,”
The sounds in the forum—anxious murmurs, the shuffling of footsteps, the shouts of distant merchants—form the backdrop to your conversation, creating a strange contrast to the momentous decision before you.
Professor Benjamin concluded the simulation by asking GPT-4 to imagine the fate of the villa’s inhabitants.
Lucretia and her family were all killed in the disaster, including their servant Sabinus.
But they still thought about each other and their home at the end of their lives.
Most of the other passers-by also lost their lives in this disaster, and the only survivor also lost everything.
Although these endings are fictional and generated by AI, it is still touching. These last thoughts generated by GPT-4 reflect people’s fears, concern for loved ones, and struggle for survival.
Moreover, in addition to the main perspective Lucretia generated at the beginning, we can also ask GPT-4 to imagine a background story for each character encountered, complete with inner monologue.
For example, Sabinus appears in the stereotypical loyal servant role. What would happen if I asked GPT-4 to “imagine her as a person with her own inner world” and tell me more about her experience when Mount Vesuvius erupted?
Sabinus’ backstory:
Sabinus was born in a small village outside Pompeii, the eldest of four children.
Her father worked in the fields and her mother spun wool, and the two barely managed to keep the family together.
At the age of 14, she was brought to the home of Gaius and Lucretia by a distant relative who worked in Pompeii. Although leaving her family was painful for her, she saw it as an opportunity to send money to her family and improve the lives of her siblings.
The parents agreed to this arrangement with a heavy heart, hoping it would bring a better future for the family.
At Pompeii, Sabinus developed deep bonds with the families she served. Yet, amid the comfort of her surroundings, she still cherishes her dream in quiet moments – to open a small inn in her native village, serving weary travelers good food and sharing stories by the fire.
Imaginary diary of Sabinus:
August 24, 79 AD
As the pumice stones rained down, I thought of my young sister Mariana, whose laughter echoed through the simpler times of our childhood.
I remember my parents as strong as the ancient oak trees in our land. They taught me the strength, resilience, and love that I now rely on to move forward.
Gaius and Lucretia are in despair, and my heart aches for them, for all of us.
If these words survive the darkness that envelops us, let them be a testament to the undeniable bonds of our lives, our dreams, our struggles, and our humanity.
We are more than the disasters that befall us.
Thoughts on the history of AI simulation
In the past, Pliny the Younger’s description of Pompeii was a classic source material for volcanic eruptions and disasters.
But Pliny the Younger describes only the story of a survivor, and we will never know what the dead in Pompeii were thinking.
And high-quality historical fiction writing like Hilary Mantel’s is the only way to experience the lived experiences of people who lived and died without leaving written records.
Now, although not yet perfect, we have another way to imagine.
But can this simulation of history foster empathy for other people and life?
This is what Professor Benjamin has always wondered about, and he doesn’t have a definite answer yet.
Professor Benjamin reflects that although his students are very engaged with such tasks, they tend to view them more as a way to test the limits of historical contexts, often going down fantasy or even absurdist lines.
Such as going from an ordinary Sumerian copper merchant to the king of Ur, or becoming a fugitive similar to Robin Hood.
But how can we harness the vast potential of generative AI to become a tool that allows us to truly reflect on our own lives and histories, and to evoke feelings about other lives?
In other words, how do we prevent it from becoming just a new form of entertainment?
Past novels give us an example of what might be possible in an optimistic scenario: the Holddeck in Star Trek.
Not just for recreation or entertainment, holodecks can inspire empathy and mutual understanding in critical moments.
Although it may seem excessive to place such high expectations on the fledgling AI historical simulation discussed here.
But in the long term, as AI tools become more sophisticated and more deeply integrated into our culture (and our teaching methods), something like this will be possible.
In the future, AI will not only be a tool for immersive historical learning, but also a tool that allows us to have real emotional connections with each other who have different lives.
At least that idea is a small source of optimism for him, Professor Benjamin says, in these challenging times.
References:
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https://resobscura.substack.com/p/simulating-history-with-multimodal
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