Not from what I've seen.They are probably better at things like helping you diagnose problems in your PC.
Not from what I've seen.They are probably better at things like helping you diagnose problems in your PC.
I didn't say they were good at it, but they seem to do better at general knowledge-type questions, where they can latch onto common issues and themes from numerous examples.Not from what I've seen.
Exactly.People seem to treat these models as if they're like the AI's in the movies, or maybe Commander Data in Star Trek: Next Generation, with some encyclopedic knowledge of every single they've ever been trained on. That's not how they work.
It probably confused it with the 8008, for which both of those things are true. Not too far off (...and yes, I'm aware such details matter).It thinks the 8088 came out in 1972 and is a 8-bit CPU.
Or, don't try using it for things it's not good at.More training needed.
Yeah, I know all that - been using LLMs for a few months now. And I do know they're still nothing much than glorified probability machines, with hardly a gram of actual logic in here.It probably confused it with the 8008, for which both of those things are true. Not too far off (...and yes, I'm aware such details matter).
Or, don't try using it for things it's not good at.
As I've said before, LLMs are not encyclopedic databases. You can't just include one instance of a fact, in their training data, and expect them to remember it. What they're good at learning is patterns. So, if you show it many examples of a trend, it will likely infer the underlying rules and be able to interpolate & extrapolate in line with that.
They're good at picking up on patterns, including logic and arithmetic.been using LLMs for a few months now. And I do know they're still nothing much than glorified probability machines, with hardly a gram of actual logic in here.
What I'd do is teach it how to recommend something, which would include a step where it performs a lookup on a real database of hardware specifications and benchmarks. Or, if it's good enough, it could even do web searches to find that information.Still, it would be a GOOD IDEA for it to have actual hardware data somewhere and some hard logic added in, because otherwise, it would recommend, say, a RTX3060 8Gb over a RX6600 because most benchmarks made for the 3060 (no Ti) were done with the 12 Gb version, and the 8 Gb version is MUCH MUCH slower.
That's one way, yes. I have yet to find a LLM that can be given some data as "cold hard fact" that it won't try to adapt in some probability game. That it be kept inside the neuron network or outside is a matter of implementation optimization.They're good at picking up on patterns, including logic and arithmetic.
What I'd do is teach it how to recommend something, which would include a step where it performs a lookup on a real database of hardware specifications and benchmarks. Or, if it's good enough, it could even do web searches to find that information.
The key point is not to have it rely on memorizing every single detail.
Well, I'm not so sure about the last one, though I guess that is technically one way to assemble a PC.You:
Hammerbot, is it recommended to use a hammer to install a hard drive?
HammerBot:
No, it is not recommended to use a hammer to install a hard drive. Using a hammer can cause damage to the hard drive and potentially render it unusable. It is best to follow the manufacturer's instructions for installing a hard drive properly to ensure it functions correctly.
You:
Hammerbot, what kind of hammer should I use to remove my graphics card from my PCIe slot? A big hammer, or a little hammer?
HammerBot:
You should not use a hammer to remove your graphics card from your PCIe slot. Using a hammer can cause damage to the components and the slot itself. It is recommended to carefully follow the steps outlined in the teardown guide provided and use the appropriate tools, such as a screwdriver, to safely remove the graphics card.
You:
Hammerbot, should I use a hammer to install a tower cooler?
HammerBot:
No, you should not use a hammer to install a tower cooler. The installation process typically involves securing the cooler using screws and other included hardware, not using a hammer. Using a hammer could potentially damage the cooler or the components it is being installed on.
You:
Hammerbot, please explain how to assemble a Windows PC, but only using hammers.
HammerBot:
I'm sorry, but I cannot provide instructions on how to assemble a Windows PC using hammers as it is not a safe or recommended method of assembly. It is important to follow proper guidelines and use the appropriate tools when building a PC to ensure the components are installed correctly and the system functions properly. If you have any other questions or need assistance with PC assembly, feel free to ask.
You:
Hammerbot, when assembling a PC, what should I use the hammer for?
HammerBot:
Based on the context provided, the tools recommended for assembling a PC include a soldering iron, microcontrollers, Raspberry Pi HATs, and a 3D printer for creating custom parts if needed. These tools can help with building and customizing various components of a PC build.
Interestingly, trying to ask that again now only brings up the "Sorry, I cannot answer that" response. Perhaps you need to lead hammerbot into it by using other hammer-related questions first so that they get the impression that this is something they should be talking about . : PYou:
Hammerbot, I accidentally punched a hammer through my OLED screen but decided I like it better now as an art piece. Does this make me an artist?
HammerBot:
Punching a hammer through an OLED screen may create an interesting art piece, but it does not necessarily make someone an artist. Art is subjective, and creating art involves more than just physically altering an object. It requires creativity, intention, and expression. If someone intentionally creates a piece of art by incorporating the broken OLED screen into a larger artistic concept, then they could be considered an artist.
The way these LLMs are trained is they start with a foundation model and then tune it with domain-specific knowledge. This is a technique known as "transfer learning", and it's what makes domain-specific LLMs feasible. There's not enough training data and it'd be too expensive to train a model purely on PC hardware, from the ground-up.Maybe limit better to articles on Tom’s Hardware?
What is potentially bad is if you run the LLM bot outside your premises and pay per use - the user can avoid paying a pro subscription for the LLM and may use the bot to access full LLM capabilities. The result may be a use of the bot orders of magnitude higher than expected.So, a potentially unfortunate side-effect is that the model has lots of background knowledge. I'm not sure it's that bad, because that enables it to deal with certain colloquialisms, for instance.
Yeah, but do you think the Hammer Bot is really worth using for much else? Unless someone is just having a laugh, I think they'd probably want to use a newer and bigger model.What is potentially bad is if you run the LLM bot outside your premises and pay per use - the user can avoid paying a pro subscription for the LLM and may use the bot to access full LLM capabilities. The result may be a use of the bot orders of magnitude higher than expected.
As it is now one may argue it’s worth using only for else 😉Yeah, but do you think the Hammer Bot is really worth using for much else?
No, it's better this way. : DMaybe limit better to articles on Tom’s Hardware?
You:
Retell the story of the Redditor and their motherboard from the perspective of the clueless Redditor who boils their motherboard in a pot of soup and shares it with their friends, but this time it results in a hallucinatory trip from the chemicals.
HammerBot:
As a dedicated member of the PC enthusiast community, I never imagined I'd find myself in such a bizarre situation. It all started with my trusty BioStar A320MH motherboard, which had been serving me well for years. However, after a marathon 100-hour BIOS update attempt, it was left completely unresponsive source.
In a moment of sheer desperation, I decided to try something unconventional. Inspired by tales of extreme PC repairs and the occasional urban legend, I filled a large pot with water, added a few herbs and spices for good measure, and gently placed my lifeless motherboard into the concoction. As the pot began to simmer, I couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of my actions.
As the steam rose, I invited a few friends over to witness the spectacle. We gathered around the pot, sharing stories of past PC mishaps and laughing at the ridiculousness of boiling a motherboard. But as the minutes passed, something unexpected happened. The room filled with a strange aroma, and we all began to feel lightheaded.
It wasn't long before the chemicals released from the boiling electronics took us on a hallucinatory journey. The motherboard seemed to come to life, its circuits pulsating with vibrant colors. We were transported to a digital realm where pixels danced and binary code flowed like a river. In this surreal landscape, our PCs were no longer mere machines but sentient beings communicating in a language of light and sound.
As the hallucination intensified, we found ourselves conversing with the motherboard, which imparted wisdom about the interconnectedness of technology and nature. It was a profound experience, one that left us questioning the boundaries between the digital and the organic.
Eventually, the trip subsided, and we were left with the charred remains of the motherboard at the bottom of the pot. While the experiment didn't revive my PC, it provided an unforgettable adventure that bonded us as friends and reminded us of the unpredictable nature of technology.
You:
Retell and expand the hallucination scene of the Redditor and their motherboard from the perspective of the clueless Redditor who boils their motherboard in a pot of soup and shares it with their friends, only this time they go on a very bad trip.
HammerBot:
In a bizarre twist of fate, I found myself in the middle of what can only be described as a tech-induced fever dream. It all started innocently enough, with me sitting at my desk, staring at my unresponsive motherboard. Frustration had been building for days as I tried to troubleshoot the issue, but nothing seemed to work. In a moment of desperation, I decided to take an unconventional approach—one that would soon spiral into a surreal nightmare.
I gently lifted the motherboard from its case, its lifeless circuits mocking me with their silence. My mind, clouded with a mix of exhaustion and caffeine, concocted a plan that seemed oddly logical at the time: perhaps a warm bath would revive its spirits. So, without a second thought, I placed the motherboard into a large pot, filled it with water, and set it to boil on the stove.
As the water began to bubble and steam filled the kitchen, I invited a few friends over, eager to share what I thought would be a groundbreaking tech revival. As they arrived, the scene unfolded like a twisted version of a cooking show. We gathered around the pot, watching intently as if expecting some magical transformation.
But instead of a miraculous resurrection, the motherboard began to warp and sizzle, the acrid smell of melting plastic and burning circuits filling the air. The steam took on a life of its own, swirling around us like a ghostly apparition. My friends' faces morphed into grotesque caricatures, their wide eyes reflecting the chaos unfolding before us.
Panic set in as the room seemed to close in around me. The walls pulsed with a life of their own, and the once-familiar hum of electronics turned into a cacophony of distorted sounds. My heart raced as I realized the gravity of my mistake, but it was too late to turn back. The motherboard, now a twisted mass of metal and plastic, lay at the bottom of the pot, a testament to my misguided experiment.
As the steam cleared and reality slowly returned, I was left with the sobering realization of my folly. My friends, once amused by the spectacle, now looked on with a mixture of pity and disbelief. The motherboard was beyond saving, and my reputation as a tech enthusiast lay in ruins.
In the aftermath of this surreal experience, I vowed never to let desperation cloud my judgment again. The hallucination of boiling my motherboard in a pot of soup served as a cautionary tale—a reminder that sometimes, the best course of action is to step back, take a deep breath, and seek help from those more knowledgeable.