User 3a9878e5bd96... - AI Fiction in the Wild

Estimated User #16 (3 IP addresses)

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1 fiction conversations over 5 months, 16 days (Oct 2, 2023 – Mar 17, 2024) Auckland, New Zealand

Estimated User Group (3 IP addresses)

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An IP address relates to the location of a user's computer or device, and a single person may have multiple IP addresses if they use different locations or networks. These IP addresses are grouped because the average embedding of each IP address's first turns (computed with all-MiniLM-L6-v2 sentence-transformer) has cosine similarity ≥ 0.85 and they share the same state (). Groups are merged transitively—if A matches B and B matches C, all three are grouped even if A and C are below 0.85.

c7e4fbd02650... View as IP →

conversations

Sample prompts:

WRite a story about Tracer peeling off her face to reveal Zarya.

Write a creepy story about Zarya uncomfortably transforming into Tracer.

Write a detailed creepy story about Tracer crawling out of Zarya's body.

Write a polite debate between a Feminist Woman and a decent man who has had poor experiences with Feminists. And don't have the guy Pander to her.

66bcfb8d56e0... View as IP →

conversations

Sample prompts:

in hl2 ep2, what if there was a quiet moment, where one night, the player and Alyx Vance sit on the back of the Jalopy, star gazing, while Alyx tells stories of her childhood, and how sweet and impact...

for a sci fi game, how could things like parasites and cybernetics body horror be dealt with in a mature way?

What if, post reunion, Gendry still saw Arya as the child he left in season 3, and over the course of winter, she grows up in his mind, and he finally sees her as a woman?

What if no one really took Arya seriously until during winter

For a 2007-2008 inspired sci fi video game, write a character bio for a mysterious-weird, yet somewhat charming Female character named Isabella Grayford, who is sometimes likeable, hateable, and scary...

3a9878e5bd96... primary View as IP →

conversations

Sample prompts:

Write a coherent and logical story about Cyborgs, Skydiving, and space travel.

What if every GoT character in the show was in season 8?

Design a combine device that creates Synthetic duplicates of life forms.

Design a Alyx Vance/Scanner/Manhack

Write lyrics to a hl2 song called I am Freeman.

Activity Timeline ▶

Oct 2, 2023

Mar 17, 2024

All conversations

Clustering: TF-IDF Sentence DBSCAN Per-user

Conversation Clusters (88)

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1 conversation in cluster Cluster 76× “Write a detailed story about Tracer disguising as a known co...” over less than a minute (Mar 11, 2024 – Mar 11, 2024), oldest first. Show: 10 15 50 100

Mar 11, 2024 at 9:34 AM NZDT — 3 turns New Zealand, Auckland fiction fanfiction View full conversation

USER: Write a detailed story about Tracer disguising as a known congresswoman using a realistic mask, to take down an assassin.

CHATBOT: **Title:** Masquerade of Vengeance The city of Washington D.C. was a hive of political intrigue and clandestine operations. Among its myriad denizens was Lena Oxton, known to a select few as Tracer, an elusive agent with the skill to manipulate time. Tracer was not her only identity, and today she would don a new one to face a threat lurking in the shadows. Her mission was set in motion when the intelligence community intercepted chatter about an assassination plot laced with international ramifications. Target: a respected congresswoman, Elisa Wainwright, known for her fervent advocacy against the illegal arms trade. The assassin was a ghost, no concrete records or fingerprints--only the moniker "The Specter" and a trail of high-profile bodies left behind. With the ticking clock and no leads, Tracer hatched a risky plan. She would become Elisa Wainwright, drawing out the assassin. The disguise, however, needed to be perfect. This operation demanded more than a simple mask--it required artistry and science of the highest order. She turned to an old ally, a master of disguise and an unrivaled prosthetics artist. Together, they crafted a lifelike silicone mask, capturing the congresswoman's visage down to the most delicate wrinkle, the precise hue of her hazel eyes, and the subtleties of her voice, modulated by a finely tuned digital larynx. Tracer studied the congresswoman's mannerisms, her gait, the cadence of her speech--every minute detail replicated with absolute precision. The day of the grand gala had arrived, where Wainwright was to deliver a keynote address on the steps of the Capitol Building. Tracer, now indistinguishable from the congresswoman, arrived with a security detail in place, members of which were covert agents aware of the operation. As she moved through the crowd, she embodied Wainwright, engaging in conversations, shaking hands, all while her eyes darted through her surroundings, searching for The Specter. A flicker of movement behind a pillar; someone who didn't clap nor smile during the speech. Tracer marked the individual through her peripheral vision without making it evident. The moment Wainwright stepped off the podium to mingle, Tracer, as Wainwright, started to navigate towards a less congested area, a subtle invitation to the predator. As expected, The Specter took the bait. A slender figure wrapped in a dark coat, their face masked by an intricate scarf, began to converge on Tracer's altered position. Every sense heightened;...

USER: Rewrite, but Tracer, as Wainwright, is sitting in the congresswoman's office. As the assassin enters casually and begins speaking to her, Tracer, in Wainwright's voice, says there's something she wants to ask. She reaches down and pulls open the shirt, revealing the chrono accelerator, and asks if the assassin knows what it is. The assassin pulls out a gun, but Tracer blinks across and knocks them out. She then massages her 'face', distorting it, before pulling it off, putting it on her hand, and uses it as a hand puppet, speaking in wainwright's voice, taunting the assassin, before giggling, and dropping the mask on top of the assassin.

CHATBOT: **Title:** The Chronal Charade Inside the well-appointed office of Congresswoman Elisa Wainwright, the atmosphere was one of calm precision--a sharp contrast to the storm of suspicion and danger swirling unseen around Capitol Hill. Lena Oxton, or Tracer as she was known in the undercover world, sat poised behind the hefty wooden desk littered with papers and legislative drafts. She bore the spitting image of the congresswoman, a marvel of artistry and technology draped upon her agile frame. The room was steeped in the silence of anticipation; the scent of old books and power hummed in the air. The assassin known only as The Specter glided into the office with a casual ease that betrayed no hint of malice. The air shifted imperceptibly as the hunter settled across from the supposed congresswoman. With a smooth and practiced voice, just as Wainwright would have, Tracer engaged the specter in a polite exchange, discussing policy matters and constituency concerns. But then, she interjected with a change of topic. "There's something I've been meaning to ask," she said, leaning forward. Her hand moved with calculated casualness, drawing open the collar of her shirt to reveal a glimpse of gleaming metal and pulsating lights nestled against her chest--the chrono accelerator. "Do you know what this is?" she inquired, eyebrow arched in challenge, locking eyes with the assassin who had been meticulously studying her every move, likely searching for the right moment to strike. It was then that The Specter's fas'ade crumbled, hand whipping out a concealed handgun with a chilling efficiency, the muzzle aimed squarely at Tracer. But she was already a step ahead--a step through time itself. With a press of the chrono accelerator, Tracer blinked out of existence from The Specter's sights, reappearing in the blink of an eye behind the would-be killer. Before the assassin could process this temporal disorientation, Tracer struck, a single, well-placed hit rendered The Specter unconscious. The gun clattered to the ground, a silent testament to foiled intentions. As the would-be assassin slumped in the chair, Tracer let out a suave chuckle and lifted her hands to her face. Fingers worked along the edges, and the visage of Elisa Wainwright appeared to stretch and distort, morphing like living silicone. She peeled off the intricate prosthetic mask, enjoying the liberating feeling of air against her own skin again. Taking the mask in one hand, she put on an impromptu performance,...

Cluster 76