User 7f1c9460103b... - AI Fiction in the Wild

Estimated User #20

2 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 opening prompts (computed with all-MiniLM-L6-v2 sentence-transformer) has cosine similarity ≥ 0.75 and they share the same state (Renfrewshire). Groups are merged transitively—if A matches B and B matches C, all three are grouped even if A and C are below 0.75.

350f37919414...

1480 conversations

Sample prompts:

Write a news article about the cold pill brand Drixenol becoming extremely popular during Covid, and the disclaimer says Drixenol is actually a major plot point and character from a movie

Write a news article about the cold pill brand Drixenol becoming extremely popular during Covid, and the disclaimer says Drixenol is actually from a movie

This is the pre-Spidey Kids WB lineup from late 2007 7:00am: Will & Dewitt 7:30am: Magi-Nation 8:00am: Tom and Jerry Tales 9:00am: Skunk Fu! 9:30am: Shaggy and Scooby-Doo Get a Clue! 10:00am: Eon Kid ...

7f1c9460103b... primary

71 conversations

Sample prompts:

Write a story about Emie, a female amorphous, gloopy black blob from a far off planet, She visits and studies planets, getting to know their inhabitants, so she can form bonds with them

Write a story about a planet inhabited by blobs of a gooey, thick, viscous black liquid

Write a story about a planet inhabited by gelatinous blobs

Write a forum convo where a Kids WB fan says unfortunately Magi-Nation is now permanently associated with Will & Dewitt

Write a forum convo where a Kids WB fan says unfortunately Magi-Nation is now permanently associated with W&D

1,552 total fiction conversations over 6 months, 4 days (Oct 26, 2023 – Apr 28, 2024) Renfrewshire, United Kingdom

Explore Story Permutations (145)

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Story permutations group this user's prompts into themes based on how similar their wording or meaning is. Click a group to see how the user's prompts evolved: within a selected group, each prompt is shown as a word-level diff against the previous one — green marks text the user added, and red strike-through marks text they removed. This reveals how the user revised, expanded, or pruned their prompts as they iterated. Jump to methodology →

Showing 2 conversations in story permutation C144× “Write a story about a rabbit intrigued by mud pots” over 2 hours (Mar 9, 2024 – Mar 9, 2024), oldest first. Show: 10 15 50 100

Mar 9, 2024 at 1:32 PM GMT — 7 exchanges United Kingdom, Renfrewshire fiction toxic View full conversationView

USER: Write a story about a rabbit intrigued by mud pots

CHATBOT: In the heart of the forest, where the dense canopy shielded the earth from the ardent rays of the sun, there was a part of the woods that the animals seldom spoke about. They called it the Whispering Wetlands, a place where the ground bubbled and boiled with mysterious mud pots. Within the tranquility of these woods lived a delicate, snow-white rabbit named Thimble, known for her insatiable curiosity and a boundless sense of adventure. Unlike her kin who found contentment in the clover patches and breezy meadows, Thimble was captivated by the tales of the bubbling earth. She had listened intently to the old hares' stories about the strange and wondrous mud pots that would gurgle and spout mud like tiny volcanoes of earthen stew. However, no rabbit had ever ventured close enough; the mud was said to be treacherous, a place where solid ground could be but an illusion. One crisp morning, as dew still lingered on the blades of grass, Thimble's curiosity got the best of her. She decided to embark upon an adventure to witness the mud pots for herself. Her heart pounded with excitement as she left familiar territory and hopped towards the Whispering Wetlands. The forest gradually changed around her, the trees becoming gnarled, the air moist, and the soil softer beneath her padded feet. A symphony of strange sounds grew louder as she neared her destination: pops and plops, hisses and gurgles. A moist, earthy scent hung heavily in the air. Finally, Thimble reached the edge of a clearing filled with mud pots. There, in a myriad of shapes and sizes, they simmered and burbled against the backdrop of the still woods. The sight was mesmerizing. Towering columns of mud rose and fell, the ground itself seemed to breathe, and the largest of the mud pots even whistled as the air escaped from the sludge below. Mesmerized, Thimble crouched down at a safe distance, her nose twitching and her eyes wide with wonder. She observed how the mud stretched up like taffy, clinging to the air for a moment before splattering back into the pot. The most fascinating were the colors - not just brown and gray, but hints of mossy green, stark yellow, and even a stripe of rust red that spoke of minerals hidden deep beneath the earth. Thimble's ears perked up as she heard a faint chirp from behind her. Turning her head, she saw a little bird perched on a twig, watching her with beady eyes. "Be careful," the bird tweeted succinctly. "The ground isn't always as it seems." With an appreciative twi...

USER: Write a story where a wise owl tells her of a story of a hedgehog who ventured too close and drowned, and he tells her to stay safe

CHATBOT: Once Thimble had extricated herself from the clutches of the muddy trap and skipped away from the haunting beauty of the mud pots, she was still trembling slightly from the near-miss she had experienced. She found herself jumping at the sudden rustle of leaves and the creak of the branches overhead. As she made her way back into the part of the forest that felt like home, where the trees were friendly and the ground was firm under her paws, an imposing shadow passed over her. Thimble looked up into the yellowish-green eyes of Beatrice, the old, wise owl who was perched on a low-hanging branch with an air of solemnity about her. "Ah, young Thimble," Beatrice began, her voice as deep and rich as the earth itself. "I see you've ventured into the Whispering Wetlands. You're looking a bit disheveled. Were you, by any chance, visiting the mud pots?" Gulping down her racing heart, Thimble recounted her adventure to Beatrice, leaving not a single detail unsaid, from the stunning columns of mud to the saving stick offered generously by a little bird. Beatrice listened intently, nodding her head slowly. "I am glad you are safe, Thimble. The mud pots are indeed fascinating, but like much of nature's beauty, they can be perilous," the owl imparted solemnly. Her gaze seemed to drift into the past, and it was then that she began her tale. "Many seasons ago, when the leaves were tinged with the fiery hue of autumn, there was a young hedgehog by the name of Bramble. Like you, Bramble's curiosity knew no bounds. Tales of the mud pots had long lured him with their siren songs, and one day he finally succumbed to their call. Bramble, however, unlike you, Thimble, did not heed the warnings of his fellow forest dwellers. He ventured too close, his little snout nearly touching the strangely colored muck. He couldn't resist, for he'd heard that somewhere within that ooze lay a stone that granted the truest of wishes to whoever held it in their paws. Mud pots, as you have learned, are not to be underestimated. As Bramble leaned over the edge of one particularly silent pot, the earth betrayed him. The ground, which appeared solid like the heart of an ancient tree, collapsed beneath him like a mirage dispelled. Bramble tumbled in, his tiny spines offering him no anchor, and, tragically, he did not make his way out again." Thimble's eyes widened at the somber tale, and her little heart clenched at the thought of poor Bramble, the adventurous hedgehog who had given into his curiosity...

Cluster 144

Mar 9, 2024 at 3:57 PM GMT — 4 exchanges United Kingdom, Renfrewshire fiction View full conversationView

USER: Write a story aboutwhere a rabbit intrigued bygroup of rabbits visit mud pots

CHATBOT: Once upon a time, in a luscious green forest nestled beside a towering mountain range, there dwelled a colony of rabbits. Their names were Whisper, Clover, Nibbles, Thumper, and their wise old leader, Elderberry. They lived harmoniously, with cottages burrowed under wild briar patches and thorny canopies that shielded them from the eyes of predators. But as curious as rabbits are, they couldn't resist exploring every nook and cranny of their forest home. One sunny morning, while the dew still clung to the leaves, Elderberry called a meeting. His whiskers twitched with excitement as he spoke of a place few of their kin had ventured to: the Mud Pots near the mountain's base. The Mud Pots were fabled among the forest creatures - bubbling cauldrons of earth where the mountain breathed out its misty secrets. With bounding enthusiasm, Whisper, Clover, Nibbles, and Thumper agreed to accompany Elderberry on this thrilling escapade. They packed provisions: carrots, turnips, and fresh water, ready to embark on their journey. Elderberry, with his walking stick, led the way, his knowledge of the land and the skies serving as their guide. They hopped through the thick underbrush, past babbling brooks, and over fallen logs mottled with moss. Through thickets and thorns, the little band of rabbits ventured until they reached the edge of their familiar territory. As the trees began to thin, the rabbits suddenly felt a strange sensation under their paws: the earth was warm, warmer than they'd ever felt. Sticking their noses in the air, they could smell the curious scent of minerals and a faint hint of sulfur. They gazed in wonder at their surroundings, which seemed like another world. Before them lay the Mud Pots, steaming and gurgling against a backdrop of rugged slopes. The land was awash in hues of brown, orange, and sometimes even faint blues or greens from the minerals below. The air vibrated with the palpable heartbeat of the earth, each pulse sending a ripple across the mud's surface. The rabbits approached cautiously, aware of the ground's treacherous nature. "Careful now, my little friends," Elderberry warned as they inched closer. "We must respect the mountain's power and tread lightly." Thumper, ever the boldest, hopped a bit too close, and the ground beneath him squelched menacingly. He leaped back with a startled squeak, but couldn't hide his chuckle. The others joined in the laughter, relieved that their furry companion was safe. Each rabbit took turns observ...

CHATBOT: In the heart of the vibrant green meadow surrounded by the dense thicket of whispering trees, Flopsy the rabbit lived a peaceful life with her friends. Flopsy was known for her insatiable curiosity and sparkling amber eyes that seemed to light up with wonder at the simplest of nature's gifts. On this particular day, the sun rose high, casting a warm golden hue over every blade of grass and inviting the creatures of the meadow to play. As Flopsy nibbled on a particularly succulent clover patch, her ears perked up to the distant, muffled sounds of the earth's grumbling. She had heard the elder rabbits speak of the ominous Mud Pots at the forest's edge, where the ground itself came to life in a slow, rhythmic dance of oozing and burping. Today, something in the gentle breeze seemed to beckon her closer to this mysterious phenomenon. With the light-hearted bounds that only a rabbit could perform, Flopsy made her way towards the Mud Pots. She marveled at the landscape transforming before her very eyes, from the lush grass to the cracked and steaming earth that bordered the Mud Pots. The other rabbits warned her, "Stay cautious, dear Flopsy! The Mud Pots can be very dangerous!" Ignoring their apprehensive looks, Flopsy couldn't resist creeping closer. The bubbling, the churning of the mud was strangely hypnotic. Her nose twitched, taking in the strange scents while her eyes fixed on the fascinating, gooey spectacle. Too late did she realize the ground beneath her was less like soil and more like quicksand. With one wrong hop, Flopsy yelped as she felt the earth give way beneath her paws. Before anyone could leap forward, she vanished into the goopy mud with a soft squelch. A hush fell over the crowd of animal onlookers. The spot where Flopsy disappeared bubbled ominously, and for a breathless moment, there was no trace of her--just a series of gurgling oozes and the occasional burp of the Mud Pot releasing gas. Panic rose among the meadow dwellers. "Flopsy!" they called, hearts lodged in their throats. They feared the worst, knowing the Mud Pots held a grim reputation for swallowing the inattentive. Minutes stretched like hours, the suspense an unbearable weight upon their furry shoulders. Then, just as hope began to wane, there was movement-- a tremble beneath the mud's surface. An ear popped out, twitching off the clumps of mud. Moments later, a whole head emerged, and Flopsy shook herself vigorously, splattering globs of mud in every direction. Her coat, once...

Cluster 144