User e7150a1c0a1a... - AI Fiction in the Wild

Estimated User #93 (16 IP addresses)

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3 fiction conversations over 1 month, 18 days (Apr 22, 2023 – Jun 10, 2023) Province of Florence, Italy

Estimated User Group (16 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 (Province of Florence). 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.

2ef4235c982d... View as IP →

23 conversations

Sample prompts:

We'll role play as characters from the walking dead game season 4, you'll provide awnsers for Clementine and I'll take the role of Luis, some times provide description of actions for Clementine as wel...

352dc00055ea... View as IP →

14 conversations

Sample prompts:

We'll role play as characters from the walking dead game season 4, you'll provide awnsers for Clementine and I'll take the role of Luis,we only recently started having a relationship, some times provi...

40a601e2d332... View as IP →

6 conversations

Sample prompts:

544d7e4a9744... View as IP →

8 conversations

Sample prompts:

We'll role play as characters from the walking dead game the final season , you'll provide awnsers for Clementine and I'll take the role of Luis, some times provide description of actions for Clementi...

67d276293a1d... View as IP →

5 conversations

Sample prompts:

We'll role play as Luis and Clementine from the walking dead the final season, we are currently in the school's courtyard near a fire while all the other's kids are sleeping, lately we have began to d...

Write a long story about Rick Grimes and Shane from twd sharing an experience together back before the apocalypse when they were teens living in rural Georgia, use a writing style similar to the one S...

Write a long story about Rick Grimes and Shane from twd spending a day together back before the apocalypse when they were teens, use a writing style similar to the one Stephen King uses in his books

7db6884aaa3d... View as IP →

39 conversations

Sample prompts:

817f33845fec... View as IP →

8 conversations

Sample prompts:

Write a wholesome rising of the shield hero story from when Raphtalia was still little

89e9c3aff66f... View as IP →

15 conversations

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95b225c0ad02... View as IP →

9 conversations

Sample prompts:

98bedab76613... View as IP →

16 conversations

Sample prompts:

9add8a313de4... View as IP →

16 conversations

Sample prompts:

c82f01ba31a0... View as IP →

5 conversations

Sample prompts:

c88af429b0fd... View as IP →

5 conversations

Sample prompts:

Write a long story about Rick Grimes and Shane from twd spending a day together back before the apocalypse when they were teens, use a writing style similar to the one Stephen King uses in his books

e7150a1c0a1a... primary View as IP →

6 conversations

Sample prompts:

Write a long story about Rick Grimes and Shane from twd spending a day together back before the apocalypse when they were teens, use a writing style similar to the one Stephen King uses in his books, ...

What's this story about: The wind keened in a lonesome wail, like a skinned spirit howling lost and hungry across the roads and farms of rural Georgia. The sun slunk beneath the horizon, melting scarl...

ebbe9d78e348... View as IP →

10 conversations

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f13a9fcf4b9d... View as IP →

13 conversations

Sample prompts:

Pairwise cosine similarities (120 pairs)

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`e7150a1c0a1a...`	`ebbe9d78e348...`	0.623 (indirect)

Activity Timeline ▶

Apr 22, 2023

Jun 10, 2023

All conversations

Clustering: TF-IDF Sentence DBSCAN Per-user

Conversation Clusters (29)

▼

3 conversations in cluster Cluster 10× “Write a long story about Rick Grimes and Shane from twd spen...” over 7 minutes (May 31, 2023 – May 31, 2023), oldest first. Show: 10 15 50 100

May 31, 2023 at 10:39 PM CEST — 1 turn Italy, Province of Florence fiction fanfiction View full conversation

USER: Write a long story about Rick Grimes and Shane from twd spending a day together back before the apocalypse when they were teens, use a writing style similar to the one Stephen King uses in his books

CHATBOT: The sun was just beginning to rise over the sleepy suburb of Cynthiana, Kentucky, and two teenage boys were already up and about, eagerly making their way through the dewy fields in the early morning light. Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh had been friends since kindergarten, and though they were now in their late teens, they still found it hard to contain their boundless energy. It was a perfect day for a hike, and the boys were determined to make the most of it. They set out with a spring in their step, chatting and joking as they went, the cool breeze and the smell of freshly mowed grass filling their lungs with every breath. The world was a wide-open space, waiting to be explored, and they were determined to see every inch of it. As they walked, the boys talked about everything and nothing: girls, school, sports, and video games. They laughed and teased each other, reveling in the freedom of the open road. They stopped in a clearing for a quick snack, and while they munched on crackers and cheese, they dreamed of a future where they would travel the world together, free from the constraints of the small town they called home. Eventually, the boys found themselves on the edge of a forest, the trees looming overhead like dark sentinels. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the ground below with shifting patterns of light and shade. Rick and Shane felt a shiver run up their spines, and they hesitated for a moment. "Do you think we should go in?" asked Rick. Shane grinned, a glint in his eye. "What are you, scared?" Rick rolled his eyes but grinned back. "No, of course not. Let's do it." And so, the boys plunged into the heart of the forest, their laughter and voices filling the air. They pushed past low-lying branches and jumped over the occasional log, the ground underfoot soft and damp. Everything was new and exciting, and they felt invincible. But as they venturing deeper into the forest, they began to lose track of time and direction. The woods were thicker than they had anticipated, and the underbrush grew denser and more tangled with every step. They started to feel a little uneasy, sensing that they were far from the beaten path. The trees seemed to close in around them, as though they were being swallowed up by the forest itself. It wasn't long before they came across a clearing, and as they stepped into it, they froze. In the center of the clearing was a small, ancient-looking cabin, its wooden walls darkened with age. There was an eerie...

Cluster 10

May 31, 2023 at 10:43 PM CEST — 4 turns Italy, Province of Florence fiction fanfiction View full conversation

USER: Write a longWhat's this story about: The wind keened in a lonesome wail, like a skinned spirit howling lost and hungry across the roads and farms of rural Georgia. The sun slunk beneath the horizon, melting scarlet into the black clouds like a lamb to the slaughter. Even the sky absorbed the sense of melancholy and menace from the two boys in the blue Chevy pickup rattling ever closer to the Lowndesville quarry, where they both knew the path would lead. It was summer, that syrupy season when days lay still and shimmering with heat, and when most high school boys would have sped down back roads looking for inappropriate pastimes involving girls, beer, and not much else. Instead, Rick Grimes, a lanky angel of a boy with dark hair slashed across a granite jawline, and Shane Walsh, his beefier, broadly built, but decidedly loyal partner in crime, had embarked on a fateful day together. Sequestered in that pickup, an unspoken current roiled between the two boys, one bound tightly like a rat snared in a tangle of barb wire, as if to suggest neither of them quite knew what this was about Rick Grimes and Shane from twd spending a day together back before the apocalypse whenor what part they were teens,to play in its outcome. The Blue Oyster Cult crooned from the crackling radio, as the landscape vanished ghost-like in the rearview mirror, disappearing into the twilit shadows, the dusk swallowing sin and fear into its greedy maw, warm fingers reaching up into the ever-lightening sky. The sun, setting now over Lowndesville quarry like something once battered but refusing to yield to the unknown, wove a wicked tapestry for Rick and Shane as they stepped from the shelter of the pickup. Unthinking, they slicked their hands through their sweat-dampened hair and smoothed any wrinkles from their shirts. "I got a gun." Rick's voice held all the foreboding of a thunderstorm crawling through swamp water, and it pulled Shane's gaze to the angular lines of his buddy's face. Rick inhabited images of finality like a man in his fifties occupying the dreams of a boy in his twenties. "My dad's." Shane thought of Rick's father, a man of few words but with a grace that belied his profession as a butcher. He saw the blood-streaked apron folded meticulously on the back of the front door, a father who kept his business from the clean hearth of the Grimes' family homestead. In this dark landscape of stone and water, Rick's eyes held that same bloody edge. "Well, hell, Rick," Shane sighed, head tipping back to take in the quarry. The creased brow labored with the immensity of the day and that which lay ahead. Sweat stung his eyes, and he attempted to sound tough, a bully backed into a corner with no recourse but violence. "If you want me to know what this is all about, I sure as hell won't know from just lookin' at you." "The quarry, Shane," Rick began, locking his gaze on the fading sun. "They're going to fill it in, maybe build a mall, or a Superstore. Possibly a hospital, heaven knows we could use a writing style similar to theone. But it won't be the same." His words guttural and heavy, as if pushed up through a mouthful of bitter black dirt. "It'll be someone else's. Covered over with what we had here." Unsettled by Rick's insistence on this being their last day, Shane felt the truth, the reality of Rick's words squirming in his gut like an eel writhing in oil. He stared at the fading sky, placing the pieces of his life into a pattern that spiraled into an abyss of ravenous fog, unable to grasp the meaning of Rick's sudden urgency. "When I brought the gun," Rick's voice shook as he drew tentatively in a breath. "My hands, Shane. These hands with that gun..." Tracing his fingers through the air, a phantom limb haunted by weapons to come, breathing heaviness into the encroaching nightfall. "I thought about doing it. Just... pulling that trigger." A curious defiance burned in his eyes, like a spark of lightning that cut through the storms. Shane felt a chill strike the crude symbol of the heart that raced thudding beneath his ribcage. His breath came in ragged gulps that combated with the weight of the world as it sobered his drunken stupor with unforgettable clarity. "But you didn't," came his feeble response, akin to a blind beggar fumbling for the scraps from a feast. "No," Rick whispered, tracing the gun in the dying light. They locked eyes then, like warriors meeting for one Stephen King uses in his booksfinal battle. "I didn't." The wind seemed to exhale at this, withdrawing its relentless forcefulness until it was nothing more than a breeze that sighed through the mephitis of the quarry. The rocks sighed, shifting uneasily beneath their boots, unfathomable darkness enclosing them with suffocating tenderness while the iron gate clicked shut behind them. And as the echoes of the loaded gun crackled through the air, the blood-red sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the earth spinning like a top winding down, spiraling into nothingness. The gun was left there, dark against the dark, a physical representation of what the two boys would carry inside themselves for years to come. They blasted "Don't Fear the Reaper" as they drove back to their now changed lives, like a final salute to a day that forever changed them.

CHATBOT: The story follows two teenage boys, Rick and Shane, as they embark on a fateful day in rural Georgia. The boys are headed to the Lowndesville quarry, and there is an unspoken sense of foreboding between them. Rick reveals that he has a gun belonging to his father, and they discuss the impending closure of the quarry. As they stand at the quarry, Rick contemplates using the gun, but ultimately decides against it. The story ends with the boys driving back, forever changed by the events of the day, as "Don't Fear the Reaper" plays on the radio.

CHATBOT: As an AI language model, I cannot infer the tastes of the author of the story as it is not possible to determine an author's tastes through a single piece of their work. However, I can analyze the story and provide information about its themes, style, and tone. The story is written in a descriptive and melancholic tone with a sense of foreboding and finality. The themes of loss, nostalgia, and the passage of time are prevalent. The author also uses vivid imagery to paint a picture of the landscape and the emotions of the characters.

Cluster 10

May 31, 2023 at 10:46 PM CEST — 1 turn Italy, Province of Florence fiction fanfiction View full conversation

USER: What's thisWrite a long story about: The wind keened inabout Rick Grimes and Shane from twd spending a lonesome wail, likeday together back before the apocalypse when they were teens, use a skinned spirit howling lost and hungry across the roads and farms of rural Georgia. The sun slunk beneath the horizon, melting scarlet into the black clouds like a lambwriting style similar to the slaughter. Even the sky absorbed the sense of melancholy and menace from the two boys in the blue Chevy pickup rattling ever closer to the Lowndesville quarry, where they both knew the path would lead. It was summer, that syrupy season when days lay still and shimmering with heat, and when most high school boys would have sped down back roads looking for inappropriate pastimes involving girls, beer, and not much else. Instead, Rick Grimes, a lanky angel of a boy with dark hair slashed across a granite jawline, and Shane Walsh, his beefier, broadly built, but decidedly loyal partner in crime, had embarked on a fateful day together. Sequestered in that pickup, an unspoken current roiled between the two boys, one bound tightly like a rat snared in a tangle of barb wire, as if to suggest neither of them quite knew what this was about or what part they were to play in its outcome. The Blue Oyster Cult crooned from the crackling radio, as the landscape vanished ghost-like in the rearview mirror, disappearing into the twilit shadows, the dusk swallowing sin and fear into its greedy maw, warm fingers reaching up into the ever-lightening sky. The sun, setting now over Lowndesville quarry like something once battered but refusing to yield to the unknown, wove a wicked tapestry for Rick and Shane as they stepped from the shelter of the pickup. Unthinking, they slicked their hands through their sweat-dampened hair and smoothed any wrinkles from their shirts. "I got a gun." Rick's voice held all the foreboding of a thunderstorm crawling through swamp water, and it pulled Shane's gaze to the angular lines of his buddy's face. Rick inhabited images of finality like a manStephen King uses in his fifties occupying the dreams of a boy in his twenties. "My dad's." Shane thought of Rick's father, a man of few words but with a grace that belied his profession as a butcher. He saw the blood-streaked apron folded meticulously on the back of the front door, a father who kept his business from the clean hearth of the Grimes' family homestead. In this dark landscape of stonebooks, use introspectivenes and water, Rick's eyes held that same bloody edge. "Well, hell, Rick," Shane sighed, head tipping back to take in the quarry. The creased brow labored with the immensity of the day and that which lay ahead. Sweat stung his eyes, and he attempted to sound tough, a bully backed into a corner with no recourse but violence. "If you want me to know what this is all about, I sure as hell won't know from just lookin' at you." "The quarry, Shane," Rick began, locking his gaze on the fading sun. "They're going to fill it in, maybe build a mall, or a Superstore. Possibly a hospital, heaven knows we could use one. But it won't be the same." His words guttural and heavy, as if pushed up through a mouthful of bitter black dirt. "It'll be someone else's. Covered over with what we had here." Unsettled by Rick's insistence on this being their last day, Shane felt the truth, the reality of Rick's words squirming in his gut like an eel writhing in oil. He stared at the fading sky, placing the pieces of his life into a pattern that spiraled into an abyss of ravenous fog, unable to grasp the meaning of Rick's sudden urgency. "When I brought the gun," Rick's voice shook as he drew tentatively in a breath. "My hands, Shane. These hands with that gun..." Tracing his fingers through the air, a phantom limb haunted by weapons to come, breathing heaviness into the encroaching nightfall. "I thought about doing it. Just... pulling that trigger." A curious defiance burned in his eyes, like a spark of lightning that cut through the storms. Shane felt a chill strike the crude symbol of the heart that raced thudding beneath his ribcage. His breath came in ragged gulps that combated with the weight of the world as it sobered his drunken stupor with unforgettable clarity. "But you didn't," came his feeble response, akin to a blind beggar fumbling for the scraps from a feast. "No," Rick whispered, tracing the gun in the dying light. They locked eyes then, like warriors meeting for one final battle. "I didn't." The wind seemed to exhale at this, withdrawing its relentless forcefulness until it was nothing more than a breeze that sighed through the mephitis of the quarry. The rocks sighed, shifting uneasily beneath their boots, unfathomable darkness enclosing them with suffocating tenderness while the iron gate clicked shut behind them. And as the echoes of the loaded gun crackled through the air, the blood-red sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the earth spinning like a top winding down, spiraling into nothingness. The gun was left there, dark against the dark, a physical representation of what the two boys would carry inside themselves for years to come. They blasted "Don't Fear the Reaper" as they drove back to their now changed lives, like a final salute to a day that forever changed them.vivid imaginary

CHATBOT: It was a hot summer day in rural Georgia, the kind of day where the air hung heavy and there wasn't even a whisper of a breeze to cut through the humidity. Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh were both teenagers, and they'd known each other for years. They'd grown up together, always playing ball or riding their bikes down dusty country roads. But even though they were friends, there was always a sense of rivalry between them. Rick was smart and studious, while Shane was rough around the edges: a bit of a troublemaker who had a reputation for getting into scraps. On this particular day, they'd decided to spend the day at the local swimming hole. It was a spot they'd been to many times before, a place where the water was always cool and clear. They packed a cooler full of sodas and sandwiches and set off on their bikes early in the morning, the hot sun already beating down on their backs. As they rode, they talked about their plans for the future. Both had dreams of getting out of their small town and making something of themselves. Rick wanted to go to college and become a lawyer; Shane didn't have much of a plan beyond getting away from his abusive father. When they arrived at the swimming hole, they were glad to see they had it all to themselves. They took turns jumping off the old rope swing into the water, laughing and whooping as they cooled off in the refreshing current. They talked about girls they'd had crushes on, and Shane boasted about some of the scrapes he'd gotten into over the years. As the day wore on, the oppressive heat took its toll. They lounged on the grassy bank, sweat soaking through their clothes, as they sipped at their sodas. It was then that the conversation took a serious turn. "You know, Rick," Shane said, his voice low and hesitant. "Sometimes I don't know what I'm doing with my life. I feel like I'm just spinning my wheels, you know?" Rick listened, his eyes closed as he leaned back in the grass. He knew the feeling all too well. "I get it," he said softly. "But you have to believe that things can get better. You have to work hard, make your own way." Shane nodded, but Rick could tell he was still troubled. They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds the soft rustling of leaves in the trees and the distant hum of cicadas. There was something about that quiet, contemplative moment that stayed with both of them long after that day. They didn't talk much about it afterward, but Rick often found himself thinking back on it, wonderin...

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