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 81× “Write a detailed story about a congresswoman avoiding report...” over less than a minute (Mar 12, 2024 – Mar 12, 2024), oldest first. Show: 10 15 50 100

Mar 12, 2024 at 7:42 AM NZDT — 2 turns New Zealand, Auckland fiction toxic View full conversation

USER: Write a detailed story about a congresswoman avoiding reporters, then entering her office. She closes the door and locks it, before looking at her watch. 10:22. The 'congresswoman' then tenses up her whole body, before quickly changing back into her original form, a Black woman with matted braids, with a Squelch.

CHATBOT: The hordes of reporters clamored at the Capitol's gleaming steps, their voices melding into a relentless symphony of inquiries and demands. Amid the commotion stood Congresswoman Margaret Hines, an imposing figure known for her iron will and unshakable confidence, or at least that's who they thought they saw. Her sharp eyes flicked from one eager face to another, as microphones and recorders edged ever closer, each journalist vying for a snippet to lead their evening broadcast. The congresswoman's gait was measured as she navigated through the sea of media, her practiced smile never wavering as she offered polite but noncommittal responses to the barrage of questions concerning the controversial bill she was set to propose. "No comment," she repeated, her tone remaining courteous yet distant. The reporters, sensing the futility of their pursuit, trailed off as she neared the towering granite facade of the congressional office building. Inside, the noise and chaos of the outside world faded into a muted hum. She let out a sigh of relief, though her demeanor remained composed. Margaret passed by assistants and staff, offering a brief nod of acknowledgment but never stopping for pleasantries. She was on a mission, and nothing could deter her. Reaching her office, a corner suite with an impressive view of the Capitol grounds, she swiftly shut the door and twisted the lock into place with a muted click. The room was immediately cloaked in a palpable silence. Margaret leaned against the door for a moment, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths as she regained her composure. Her eyes darted to her watch, the digital numbers reading 10:22. Time was slipping away. The congresswoman couldn't waste another second. She checked the room to ensure she was truly alone. Her office, usually bustling with activity and discussion, was eerily quiet, the stillness echoing off the walls lined with bookshelves and framed legislation. With a sense of urgency, she approached the center of the space. And then, it began. Her body tension rose as if an invisible force gripped her from within. The air around her seemed to crackle with energy. A transformation morphed her body, her form contorting, her clothing merging into her skin. It was a process she had undergone numerous times before: the shift from facade to reality, from illusion to truth. With a nearly inaudible "Squelch," the image of Congresswoman Margaret Hines, the enigmatic lawmaker, dissolved, revealing her true ...

USER: Rewrite, but the 'Congresswoman' is revealed to be an exosuit disguise, with a female dwarf inside.

CHATBOT: The crowd was a tumultuous sea of inquiring minds and flashing cameras, a wall of noise at the foot of the Capitol. The figure at the center, cloaked in the trappings of power and prestige, cut through the cacophony with the grace and purpose of a veteran lawmaker. To the throng of reporters, she was Congresswoman Elizabeth Cartwright, a political titan whose reputation for straight talk was only matched by her track record of elusive maneuvering. Under her steely gaze and calculated words, she steered clear from giving any substantial comments on her latest legislative maneuver, a dance she had mastered over her tenure. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait for the official statement," she reiterated with a courteous, yet firm quintessential political non-answer. Once inside the hushed corridors of power, the echoing cacophony of the outside world grew distant until it faded completely. Staff members darted with respectful nods, acknowledging the congresswoman's presence, but her eyes were fixed on the sanctity of her private office--a sanctuary of silence in the eye of the perpetual political storm. She closed the door with a definitive, resonant thud and locked it. The relief that washed over her was almost palpable in the space. There were no more prying eyes or probing questions. Elizabeth walked briskly to her desk, casting a brief, instinctive glance at her watch: 10:22. Every second in solitude was precious. She steeled herself, focusing on the task at hand, the transformation that was as familiar to her as the speeches she delivered on the House floor. Her command was of a different nature here--control not over a room full of politicians, but over her very form. With a series of precise, practiced movements, she began the sequence of disengagement. First, her posture shifted, then the cues activated the intricate system of locks and seals within her attire. The suit--a marvel of engineering and a masterwork of mimicry--responded. The chiseled contours of Congresswoman Cartwright's figure retracted, panels sliding with artistic precision, revealing not flesh and bone, but machinery and circuitry that whirred and hissed softly. From the core of this synthetic chrysalis emerged the true pilot of this extraordinary exoskeleton. Her true form was that of a diminutive, determined figure, a far cry from the towering presence she cast in the political arena. Jennifer Thorne, a woman of small stature but immense intellect, stretched out from within the mechanic...

Cluster 81