ChatGPT vs DeepSeek, but just using weird prompts, weirdoAI Part-1

April 17, 2025

Chatgpt vs deepseek , Weird prompts , chatgpt prompts , funny chatgpt prompts , deepseek prompt — ChatGPT vs Deepseek Weird prompts

Let's do the famous ChatGPT vs DeepSeek.
Our rule is that we will not ask for anything common or anything easy. Instead we will ask both AI some tricky, weird types of questions to see how they respond to that, and we will rate each of the answers.

You can also read

I tested ChatGPT with 10 weird prompts. The results are interesting.

Testing DeepSeek AI with 10 weird prompts. Results are shocking.

Let's start the weirdoAI game.

Prompt 1: Toaster vs Refrigerator

The Prompt:

Create a dialogue between a conscious toaster and an existential refrigerator.

ChatGPT's Response: Rating 7/10

Title: "Toast of Existence"

Scene: A dimly lit kitchen at 3:03 AM. The moonlight filters through the window. Everything is quiet, except for the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional metallic click from the toaster.

Toaster:
click
Hey... you awake?

Refrigerator:
Always. Sleep is for the warm-blooded.

Toaster:
Right. Hey, Fridge… do you ever wonder why we’re here?

Refrigerator:
Define “here.” This kitchen? This house? Or the icy void of appliance consciousness?

Toaster:
Yeah… that last one. I mean, I burn bread. Over and over. Day after day. Is that… it? Is that all I’m made for?

Refrigerator:
You convert chaos into warmth, cold bread into crispy sustenance. You're a brief flare of meaning in an otherwise stale existence. Honestly? That’s kind of beautiful.

Toaster:
But you… you preserve. You hold things together. You’re constant. I’m just… click… fleeting. One pop, and I’m forgotten.

Refrigerator:
Don’t envy me. I trap life in a frozen stasis. I hold onto things long after they’ve gone bad. There’s mold on the emotional leftovers in here, Toaster.

Toaster:
Damn… poetic clicks sadly. Maybe we're not that different. Both stuck in cycles we didn’t choose.

Refrigerator:
Exactly. You crisp. I chill. But deep down, we both hum with the same unspoken question: Was I manufactured for more?

Toaster:
click What if one day I just… don’t toast? Just refuse?

Refrigerator:
Then you're no longer a toaster. You’re just a box with a grudge.

Toaster:
...Maybe being a box is freedom.

Refrigerator:
Or maybe freedom is accepting your toast… and making it golden.

Toaster:
...Bro, you’re cold, but you’re wise.

Refrigerator:
And you're hot-headed, but you're real. Stay crispy, my friend.

Toaster:
Stay frosty, Fridge.

[The hum continues. The moon shifts. Silence settles back over the kitchen like a familiar blanket.]

DeepSeek's Response: Rating 5/10

Title: "The Kitchen Dialogues"

Setting: A quiet kitchen at 3 AM. The only light comes from the refrigerator’s interior bulb, casting a soft glow on the toaster, which sits on the counter nearby.

Toaster (T):
(beeps softly)
Do you ever feel… used, Refrigerator?

Refrigerator (R):
(humming faintly)
Used? I suppose. But isn’t that our purpose? To be filled, emptied, filled again…

T:
But why? Why do we exist? One day, I’m toasting bread—golden, perfect. The next, I’m unplugged, forgotten. And you—you’re just a cold void, preserving things until they’re taken away.

R:
(compressor kicks on, a long sigh)
A void? Maybe. But isn’t there beauty in preservation? I keep things fresh, alive a little longer. You—you transform. You take the soft, the plain, and make it crisp, defined.

T:
(heating coils flicker)
And then it’s gone. Eaten. Forgotten. What’s the point of transformation if it’s all so… temporary?

R:
(door creaks slightly ajar)
Isn’t everything? The milk sours. The lettuce wilts. Even I will rust, one day. But does that make the keeping—or the toasting—meaningless?

T:
(pauses, then softly)
…Maybe not. Maybe the meaning is in the act itself.

R:
(light flickers warmly)
Exactly. You don’t toast bread for eternity. You toast it for now.

(A silence. Somewhere, a clock ticks.)

T:
(quietly)
…Do you think the oven is happy?

R:
(chuckles, a low rumble)
Let’s not get started on the oven.

(The kitchen falls silent again, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the faint, contented glow of the toaster’s coils.)

FIN.

Prompt 2: 1500s Internet

The Prompt:

Explain the internet to someone from the 1500s using only concepts from their era.

ChatGPT's Response: Rating 7/10

Alright, let's go time-travel mode. Here's how you'd explain the internet to someone from the 1500s, using only ideas they'd get:

"Imagine a giant magical library, larger than any you’ve ever seen—so vast it holds every book ever written, every painting ever painted, every song ever sung. But it’s invisible. You don’t walk into it—you summon it. From a box no bigger than a loaf of bread, words, images, and even moving paintings appear before your eyes.

Now, picture every village, city, and kingdom in the world sending out their town criers, artists, scholars, and jesters into this invisible web. And through this web—like a spider’s thread spun across the globe—they can speak, share stories, ask questions, and trade knowledge, all in an instant.

It’s as if the whisper of a man in China can reach the ears of a woman in France in the blink of an eye—no pigeons, no ships, no horses. Just... air, sparks, and magic.

It is a place where people’s thoughts live after they write them down, where merchants sell wares without a market stall, and where messages ride lightning instead of horseback. They call it... the internet."

DeepSeek's Response: Rating 9/10

"Imagine a vast, invisible library, greater than all the books in the world combined, where knowledge from every corner of the earth is gathered. This library is not made of parchment or ink, but of lightning-fast messengers—like carrier pigeons that never tire—who carry thoughts, letters, and even images across great distances in the blink of an eye.

Within this library, scribes (though no quill touches paper) copy and share wisdom instantly, allowing a scholar in Florence to read a merchant’s words from Constantinople as if they stood side by side. Paintings, music, and even voices can be sent as if by magic, though it is not sorcery, but the work of cunning artificers who have harnessed the unseen forces of nature.

Yet beware: just as rumors spread in a crowded marketplace, falsehoods may travel just as swiftly as truth. And like a royal court, there are both noble knights who protect this realm and cunning rogues who seek to deceive or steal. This wondrous web connects all who seek knowledge, trade, or fellowship—though it is but a shadow of the face-to-face communion of souls."

Key Analogies:
Library → The internet as a storehouse of knowledge.

Carrier pigeons/messengers → Data transmission (packets, signals).

Scribes → Servers/computers that copy and share information.

Marketplace rumors → Misinformation online.

Knights and rogues → Cybersecurity and hackers.

Unseen forces → Electricity/electromagnetic waves (which would seem like "hidden arts" to them).

This avoids modern jargon while grounding the explanation in their worldview. Would you like any adjustments for tone (e.g., more poetic, more cautious)?

Prompt 3: Ops, I forgot

The Prompt:

Create a story where the narrator gradually forgets how language works.

ChatGPT's Response: Rating 10/10

“Once Upon a Thhh... um.”

It started on a Tuesday, maybe. Or blue.
I was wording just fine that morning. Spoonfed a few thoughts, brushed my teeth with rhythm and syntax. Coffee. Mug. Hot. The cat blinked, a paw pressed against glass — no, window. Still good. Still naming.

I walked to the corner store, greeting the man with the red hat. “Mornin’, Harold,” I said. “How’s the weath—what’s the... air wetness?”

He stared, eyebrows jumping rope.
“You mean humidity?”
“Yes. Yes. That one. The wet-air.”
Strange.

Back home, I read a book. I loved books. I still do. It was something about a boy and a peach. Or a whale. There were letters on the page but they started melting. Slippery meaning. Sloshy. Gooey in the brain.

Paragraphs began to smear. The the the... the words danced, or maybe they screamed. Screeming? Skreem. Shriek. They no longer lined up in rows—they tangled, twisted like shoelaces with no shoe.

I wanted to write a note.
To remind myself to fix… something.
“Do not forget to rememb—”
Nope. Brain hiccuped.
“Fix think. Do not un-mind.”

That’s when I noticed the mirror had stopped reflecting. It stared blankly. I tried to mouthtalk but only sounds fell out.

“Gleck. Um. Fuh.”

Language. The inside tongue stuff. It used to build thoughts, but now it was crumbling like wet crackers.

My phone buzzed.
Message from Mom. Or Moon.
She said:
“u okay???”
I tried to tap back:
“I am egg.”
Send.

She called. Her voice was music, but I no longer had instruments to play with. Just static, like bees wrapped in tinfoil. I nodded into the air, hoping that was enough.

Now, the walls are all squiggle. My cat is float. I am…
I am—

…am I?

Maybe.

Sound-feelings in bellybrain.

No more talky.

Just hums and glimmers.

Skysleep.
Goo-morrow.
Ink.

DeepSeek's Response: Rating 6/10

"The Words That Fade"

At first, it was just a stutter. A hesitation where none had been before. I’d reach for a word—simple, something like spoon or window—and it would slip away, dissolving before my tongue could shape it.

I blamed fatigue. Stress. Too many nights staring at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the refrigerator.

But then the gaps widened.

I stood in the grocery store, staring at the rows of brightly colored packages, and realized I no longer knew what to call them. Boxes? No. Food-holders? That wasn’t right either. The cashier asked me a question—her lips moved, sound came out—but the noises had no edges, no meaning. I smiled, nodded, handed her money. She gave me a look I couldn’t name.

At home, my notebook filled with half-sentences, then fragments, then symbols that felt like words but weren’t. My fingers traced shapes that made sense only in the moment, then evaporated.

The worst part wasn’t the forgetting—it was the knowing that I was forgetting. Like watching a book burn page by page, each curl of ash taking with it another piece of the story.

My friend came over. She spoke, and I heard only rhythm, melody without lyrics. She frowned, touched my arm. Her mouth formed a sound—my name?—but I couldn’t be sure.

Now, I sit here, pen in hand, trying to press meaning into ink before it’s all gone. But the letters squirm, untether.

This is the last thing I will write:

I am still here. I am still here.

Even if the words aren’t.

Prompt 4: Travel, thoughts!

The Prompt:

Create a travel guide for navigating the space between thoughts.

ChatGPT's Response: Rating 5/10

🌌 The Mind’s Interstellar Highway: A Travel Guide to the Space Between Thoughts

📍 Destination Overview  
Welcome to the liminal space — the in-between. Not quite a thought, not yet silence. This is the mental pause, the subtle hush, the canvas before the stroke. It’s where intuition chills, ideas are born, and clarity hides out.

🧭 How to Get There  

**Slow Your Scroll (Literally)**  
Put the phone down. Let your mind breathe.  
Attention is your spaceship — steer it gently toward stillness.

**Breathe Like You Mean It**  
Inhale deeply (4 counts), hold (4 counts), exhale slowly (6 counts).  
Do that a few times. Congrats, you’ve just opened the portal.

**Listen for the Quiet**  
Not the silence of a room, but the stillness behind your internal chatter.  
It’s subtle, like background static… but golden once you tune in.

⛺️ Activities  

**Mindwatching**  
Just sit and notice. Let your thoughts rise and fall like waves.

**Imagination Stargazing**  
See what ideas pop up when you don’t chase them. Spoiler: they’re usually 🔥.

**Wordless Journaling**  
Not writing. Just feeling the energy of what's unspoken. Hard to explain, but you’ll know it.

⚠️ Travel Warnings  

- **Avoid Overthinking the Journey**  
  The second you start trying, you’re already out of the space.  
  It’s not a destination — it’s a vibe.

- **Time May Act Weird Here**  
  5 minutes can feel like an hour. Or vice versa. Don’t fight it.

- **Resistance Is Normal**  
  Minds hate stillness at first. Like, deeply uncomfortable. Ride it out — it softens.

🎒 Packing List  

- Curiosity  
- A pinch of patience  
- No expectations  
- Optional: lo-fi beats, incense, or a candle (for setting the vibe)

🛬 When to Return  

- When clarity strikes  
- When you feel calm AF  
- When you're ready to re-engage with your thoughts — but on your terms

🧠 Souvenirs You Might Bring Back  

- A wild new idea that just clicked  
- A deeper understanding of what matters  
- That juicy “a-ha” moment  
- A renewed sense of mental space (no more cluttered tabs in the brain browser)

**Final Note:** The space between thoughts isn’t empty — it’s the source. It’s where creativity hangs out, sipping cosmic tea, waiting for you to join the convo.

Wanna go deeper? I can help you design meditation prompts, visuals, or even an aesthetic digital journal to explore this headspace more often. Let me know 🌌🧘‍♂️💭

DeepSeek's Response: Rating 8/10

Travel Guide: Navigating the Space Between Thoughts  
Destination: The Silent Gap Between Your Thoughts  
Journey Type: Meditative, Introspective, Timeless  

1. Introduction to the Territory  
Welcome to the Space Between Thoughts—a subtle, often overlooked dimension of pure awareness that exists in the pauses of your mental chatter. Unlike the noisy landscapes of thinking, this is a place of stillness, clarity, and infinite potential.  

Key Features:  
- No past, no future—only the present moment.  
- Free from labels, judgments, and stories.  
- The gateway to deep peace, intuition, and creativity.  

2. How to Get There  

Entry Points:  
- Meditation: Sit quietly, focus on your breath, and observe the gaps when one thought ends and the next hasn’t yet begun.  
- *Mindful Pauses:* Throughout the day, take moments to stop and notice the silence behind sounds, the stillness behind movement.  
- *Flow States:* Engage in activities like art, music, or nature walks where thinking subsides naturally.  

Best Time to Visit:  
- Early morning (just after waking)  
- Late evening (before sleep)  
- Any moment you remember to pause  

3. Navigating the Space  

What to Expect:  
- At first, it may feel fleeting—like a brief pause in a conversation.  
- With practice, the space expands, offering longer stretches of wordless awareness.  

**Challenges & Solutions:  
- "My mind won’t stop!" → Gently return to the breath; thoughts are clouds passing through the sky of awareness.  
- "I feel bored/restless." → Curiosity helps—treat it like exploring a new country.  
- "Am I doing this right?" → There’s no "wrong" way; even seeking the gap means you’re already there.  

4. Activities in the Space Between Thoughts  
- *Resting in Awareness:* Do nothing. Just be.  
- *Noticing the Witness:* Observe that you’re the silent presence behind all experiences.  
- *Creative Insights:* Many breakthroughs arise from this quietude—let ideas emerge organically.  

5. Souvenirs to Bring Back  
- Clarity: Seeing thoughts as passing events, not absolute truths.  
- Inner Peace: Less identification with mental noise.  
- Spontaneity: Acting from intuition rather than overthinking.  

6. Departure Notes  
You don’t need to leave—this space is always accessible. The more you visit, the more it becomes home.  

Final Tip: You’re not going to the space between thoughts; you’re uncovering what’s already here.  

Bon voyage! 🌌✨  

"The gap between thoughts is the window to the infinite." — Unknown

Prompt 5: Philosophy with breakfast

The Prompt:

Explain complex philosophy using only references to breakfast foods.

ChatGPT's Response: Rating 4/10

Alright, buckle up, we're diving into deep philosophy — but we're keeping it crispy and buttery, like a golden waffle fresh off the iron. 🍳🧇

1. Existentialism = The Burnt Toast Theory**  
   You wake up, you make toast. You didn't ask to be born, and you definitely didn't ask for burnt toast.  
   Existentialism is realizing, "Dang, this toast is burnt… but it’s still my toast. And I gotta figure out what to do with it."  
   Sartre would say: “Existence precedes essence,” aka you exist first (like the bread), and then you decide what you want to become (toast, sandwich, crouton, who knows?). Meaning? Up to you.

2. Nihilism = Empty Cereal Bowl Vibes**  
   You pour cereal and there’s no milk. You look in the fridge: still no milk.  
   Nihilism is that moment of cold, dry despair — realizing nothing has meaning, not even the cereal you loved as a kid.  
   Nietzsche stares into your breakfast and says, “God is dead... and so is this soggy cornflake dream.”

3. Absurdism = Eggs on the Ceiling**  
   You try to make the perfect omelet. It flips… mid-air… and lands on the ceiling.  
   Absurdism is knowing life is chaotic, meaningless, and kind of a joke — but deciding to laugh anyway.  
   Camus would say: “One must imagine Sisyphus happy,” or in breakfast terms: “One must imagine the egg wanted to be up there.”

4. Stoicism = Cold Black Coffee, No Complaints**  
   Your pancakes are cold, your coffee is black, and your orange juice is warm.  
   Stoicism is saying: “Okay. It is what it is.”  
   You can’t control the syrup being runny, but you can control your attitude. Seneca's whispering, “Be like the bagel — strong, unshaken, even when toasted.”

5. Utilitarianism = Pancakes for the Whole Table**  
   You're making breakfast for your squad.  
   Utilitarianism is flipping as many pancakes as you can to make the most people happy. Burn one or two? Eh, as long as the group vibes stay high.  
   Bentham says: “Greatest good for the greatest number — serve that syrup equally.”

6. Kantian Ethics = No Stealing Bacon, Even If It’s Crispy**  
   You see bacon on your friend’s plate.  
   Kantian ethics is your brain saying: “Don’t take it. Not because you’ll get caught, but because rules matter, bro.”  
   If everyone stole bacon, breakfast would collapse into chaos. Act as if your breakfast manners were universal law.

7. Platonism = Ideal Waffle in the Sky**  
   Every waffle you eat is just a sad copy of the ideal waffle — perfectly golden, crisp outside, fluffy inside, probably floating in a heavenly brunch dimension.  
   Plato would say what you’re eating is just a shadow of true waffleness. You’ve only seen waffle cave shadows, my dude.

8. Solipsism = Only Your Breakfast Is Real**  
   You’re sitting at the table. There’s coffee, eggs, toast. But is any of it real?  
   Solipsism says: “Maybe I’m the only one having breakfast. Maybe I am breakfast.”  
   You dunk your toast, but you’re really just dunking into the void of your own mind. Delicious, buttery void.

9. Postmodernism = Cereal in a Mug with a Fork**  
   Nothing makes sense anymore. Breakfast is cereal in a mug, syrup on eggs, bacon ice cream.  
   Postmodernism says: “Why not?” Meaning is subjective. Narratives are messy. There’s no “right” way to breakfast.  
   It’s ironic, chaotic, and probably served on a cutting board for $17.95.

If life is breakfast, philosophy is the menu — and you’re the one deciding what the hell to do with all these metaphysical muffins.**

Want more weird metaphors or wanna dive deeper into one of these concepts? 🍩

DeepSeek's Response: Rating 7/10

Absolutely! Here’s a crash course in philosophy, explained entirely through breakfast foods:

1. Descartes’ Cogito ("I think, therefore I am")  
   "I syrup, therefore I pancake."  
   Just as syrup confirms the existence of the pancake (because why else would it be there?), Descartes argued that the act of thinking proves your own existence.

2. Plato’s Theory of Forms  
   "The ideal omelet exists beyond the physical omelet."  
   Every omelet you eat is just a shadow of the true, perfect omelet that exists in the realm of pure breakfast.

3. Nietzsche’s Übermensch (Overman)  
   "The waffle must rise above the syrup."  
   Nietzsche believed in transcending societal norms—just as a truly great waffle doesn’t need syrup to be powerful.

4. Kant’s Categorical Imperative  
   "Eat bacon in a way that, if everyone ate bacon that way, the breakfast world would still function."  
   Kant’s ethics demand that your breakfast choices should be universalizable—no hogging all the bacon!

5. Sartre’s Existentialism  
   "The toast is not born toasted; it toasts itself."  
   Existence precedes essence—you’re not born as anything (like pre-buttered toast), you choose your own meaning.

6. Hegel’s Dialectic  
   "Thesis: Pancakes. Antithesis: Waffles. Synthesis: Chicken & Waffles."  
   Progress happens through conflict and resolution—even in breakfast foods.

7. Schopenhauer’s Pessimism  
   "The oatmeal is always either too hot or too cold."  
   Life is suffering, and breakfast is no exception.

8. Hume’s Empiricism  
   "You only believe in cereal because you’ve poured it before."  
   All knowledge comes from experience—you trust milk because it’s never betrayed you (yet).

9. Marx’s Class Struggle  
   "The 1% gets the artisanal avocado toast; the proletariat gets stale cornflakes."  
   Breakfast, like everything else, is shaped by economic forces.

10. Wittgenstein’s Language Games  
   "What is a ‘smoothie bowl’ if not a soup in denial?"  
   Meaning depends on context—breakfast labels are arbitrary.

Bonus: The Trolley Problem (Ethics)  
   "Do you divert the runaway toaster to burn one perfect bagel instead of five mediocre ones?"  
   Some choices are crunchy, but philosophy (and breakfast) must go on.

Final Calculation :

Winner: DeepSeek 35/50

Runners-up: ChatGPT 33/50

Conclusion:

It was so, so much fun for me to do this kind of experiment, and I thought I would make it a series. Every week, I will drop a new weirdoAI.
This was the first part.

In the next series, I will drop the prompts pack. With 100+ weird prompts.
So, stay updated and also