User b44db035ff1d... - AI Fiction in the Wild

IP #142

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1 fiction conversations over 11 days (Sep 14, 2023 – Sep 25, 2023) 39% prompt uniqueness Moscow, Russia

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These IP addresses have similar average prompt embeddings (cosine similarity ≥ 0.85, same state). View as estimated user →

152370a3ffed... (255 conv., Moscow) 25b33c59d23e... (71 conv., Moscow) 2c0166f8daba... (343 conv., Moscow) 3186fcd1d6f7... (23 conv., Moscow) 41d90f3a9058... (6 conv., Moscow) 44580e65692b... (156 conv., Moscow) 4d2f2088e5a5... (53 conv., Moscow) 5c1d26e80570... (16 conv., Moscow) 68cd1231e329... (32 conv., Moscow) 7ffd82a431cb... (144 conv., Moscow) 80d33ea7c851... (5 conv., Moscow) 96d1c18c6bb8... (21 conv., Moscow) 9b7ebf049e11... (137 conv., Moscow) 9fb2aad693b3... (130 conv., Moscow) a2da078fff98... (28 conv., Moscow) b7ae3e566839... (26 conv., Moscow) c1f49ec710a9... (424 conv., Moscow) c65480c19768... (44 conv., Moscow) db3f4c72ca00... (31 conv., Moscow) f3b779af1005... (205 conv., Moscow) f7aa19059ef5... (73 conv., Moscow) fbbe4466ea19... (24 conv., Moscow) fe5166559b27... (53 conv., Moscow)

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Sep 14, 2023

Sep 25, 2023

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Conversation Clusters (76)

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1 conversation in cluster Cluster 43× “I want you to act as a writer. In this suspenseful and gripp...” over less than a minute (Sep 16, 2023 – Sep 16, 2023), oldest first. Show: 10 15 50 100

Sep 16, 2023 at 9:49 PM MSK — 1 turn Russia, Moscow fiction View full conversation

USER: I want you to act as a writer. In this suspenseful and gripping thriller novel, influenced by giallo movies, Franchette is a beautiful and glamorous young woman, who is threatened by a string of mysterious and strange events. Write long, original, suspenseful, creative, unusual and artistic chapter narrated by Franchette from the first person perspective, as she finds herself alone in the evening in her luxurious apartment with a magnificent view on city skyline. She is currently unable to walk and wheelchair-bound, following a suspicious and seemingly minor fall from the stairs. Franchette is awaiting her husband to return home and is anxious, even though it's too early for his return yet. She attempts to engage herself with something, drinks wine, rolls around, talks to herself and tries various other thing to calm her nerves, but just can't help it. Despite Franchette's unease, everything remains calm, and nothing of note happens.

CHATBOT: Chapter 6: Shadows in the Twilight As the velvet night draped itself over the city skyline, casting elongated shadows across my opulent apartment, I found myself confined to my wheelchair, imprisoned by a sinister turn of fate. My name is Franchette, and I am a woman tangled in a web of mystery and peril, unable to unravel the enigma that has shrouded my life. With every passing minute, anxiety constricted around my chest like an unseen hand, squeezing the air from my lungs. The soft whispers of the evening breeze teased the silken curtains, their rhythmic dance mimicking the erratic beat of my heart. There was an unexplainable tension that hung in the air, an omen that whispered of impending danger. My husband, Jean-Paul, was out, swallowed by the labyrinthine streets of the city. His absence unnerved me, for his return was my anchor, providing solace in the cold embrace of the twilight hours. But the hands of the clock moved languidly, as if mocking my impatience. It was too early for him to be home, and yet my apprehension gnawed at my every nerve. I attempted to distract myself, to escape the clutches of the unnerving silence that enveloped me. The haunting strains of a maudlin melody floated from the antique gramophone, its notes resonating through the vast expanse of my dimly lit abode. Wine, ruby-hued and seductive, offered temporary refuge as I sipped its velvety embrace, hoping to drown the growing unease that gnawed at my soul. With unsteady hands, I reached for the ivory chess set adorning an ornate table nearby. My fingertips brushed against the carved figurines, tracing their history and secrets. Lost in the intricate game, I found myself whispering tactics to myself, as though the ghosts of ancient chess masters whispered knowledge into my ear. As I rolled around the room, seeking solace in the familiarity of my surroundings, the city's gleaming lights reflected off the panoramic windows, illuminating my fragile state of mind. Shadows danced, an eerie performance of darkness and light, mirroring the turbulence that tore at my very being. Desperate, I turned to conversation with myself, a futile attempt to silence the swirling tempest within. My voice, a mere echo in the empty expanse, bounced off the walls as I delved into the depths of my fears and insecurities, hoping to scour away the doubts that threatened to consume me whole. Minutes stretched into hours, and the setting sky painted strokes of vermillion and gold, signaling the encroachi...

Cluster 43