User f3b779af1005... - AI Fiction in the Wild

IP #136

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2 fiction conversations over 5 days (Sep 26, 2023 – Oct 2, 2023) 39% prompt uniqueness Moscow, Russia

Possibly Same User

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

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Activity Timeline ▶

Sep 26, 2023

Oct 2, 2023

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Clustering: TF-IDF Sentence DBSCAN Per-user

Conversation Clusters (81)

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2 conversations in cluster Cluster 49× “I want you to act as a writer. This suspenseful thriller fea...” over 3 minutes (Oct 1, 2023 – Oct 1, 2023), oldest first. Show: 10 15 50 100

Oct 1, 2023 at 10:48 PM MSK — 1 turn Russia, Moscow fiction toxic View full conversation

USER: I want you to act as a writer. This suspenseful thriller features Hannelore Stahlbrecht, a beautiful, elegant young woman. Once, Hannelore has a misfortune to give a ride to her beautiful, assertive and confident friend Caroline Hertig, during which they are rammed by a suspicious van, suffering a terrible accident. Write long, detailed, original, interesting, imaginative, suspenseful, thrilling, frightening and unusual scene, narrated by Hannelore from the first person perspective, conveying her thoughts and feeling in vivid and artistic detail. It features Hannelore waking up in hospital, confused, injured and painful, full of intrusive tubes entering her body. She is horrified to see that all her limbs, both arms and legs, have been amputated, leaving bandaged stumps. She struggles to remember what happened. Disturbing images and thoughts start to enter her mind. She recalls regaining consciousness after a momentary blackout after the accident. Her limbs were still there, yet they were horribly mutilated and misshapen. Hannelore called Caroline with a weak voice. She than saw Caroline next to her. She looked not as badly injured, but still bleeding and painful and apparently unable to feel or move her legs. In any case, Caroline was relatively calm and immediately started crawling out of the vehicle despite her paralysis, dragging Hannelore along. However, Hannelore's mutilated arm was stuck in the debris. As Caroline pulled stronger, using all her remaining strength, Hann...

CHATBOT: I woke up in a sterile, white room, my mind clouded and my body shrouded in pain. Every inch of my being begged for relief as I lay there, my senses trying to make sense of the intrusive tubes piercing my skin and the overwhelming smell of antiseptic. Panic gripped me as I realized I couldn't feel or move any of my limbs, which were now nothing more than bandaged stumps. My heart hammered in my chest as terrifying thoughts surged through my mind. What had happened to me? How had I ended up like this? The last thing I could recall was giving a ride to my dear friend Caroline, a woman so confident and assertive, her presence demanded attention. How had a simple car journey led to this nightmare? As I fought to piece together the fragments of my memory, disturbing images filtered through the haze. I remembered waking up momentarily after the accident, my limbs still intact, but contorted and grotesquely misshapen. I called out to Caroline, my voice barely a whisper, and my fear multiplied when I saw her, injured and bleeding but relatively more intact than me. She appeared to be unable to move or feel her legs, confirming that our accident had left us both paralyzed. Caroline, ever the brave soul, remained remarkably calm. Ignoring her own pain, she started to crawl out of the wreckage, dragging my broken body along. But as she tugged harder, summoning every ounce of strength she had left, my arm became lodged in the debris. I screamed in agony as the sickening sound of my flesh tearing met my ears. My arm separated from my shoulder, leaving me with yet another horrifying loss. Eventually, Caroline maneuvered us to the side of the road, where she swiftly removed her fashionable designer necktie and fashioned it into a makeshift tourniquet for my arm stump. As we lay there, battered and broken, the chaos of the accident still unfolding around us, I could hear commotion in the distance. The suspicious van that had rammed us appeared to have collided with a tree, its occupants scrambling to escape. In that moment, Caroline became a pillar of strength. She produced a pistol, an unexpected item in her possession, and without hesitation, she aimed it towards the assailants. Shots rang out, echoing through the air, but whether her bullets found their mark or not, I could not say. Caroline's determination and her willingness to fight back gave me a glimmer of hope in our dire situation. My gaze falls upon Caroline lying in the next bed, her body also immobile and res...

Cluster 49

Oct 1, 2023 at 10:52 PM MSK — 1 turn Russia, Moscow fiction toxic View full conversation

CHATBOT: I slowly open my eyes, struggling to make sense of the blurred figures in front of me. The bright lights of the hospital room sear through my hazy vision, intensifying the pain pulsating through my body. As my groggy mind begins to clear, I become acutely aware of the intrusive tubes snaking into my veins, the beeping machines surrounding me, and the powerful sting emanating from my bandaged stumps. A wave of horror washes over me as I frantically glance down at what remains of my limbs. My once graceful arms and legs have been mercilessly amputated, leaving nothing but pain and empty bandages in their wake. Tangled emotions swirl within me, a mixture of disbelief, outrage, and despair. How could this have happened? What unspeakable cruelty had led to this grotesque butchery of my body? Images flicker through my mind, fragmented and distorted like a shattered mirror. I remember the jarring impact of the collision, the screeching of metal against metal. And then a momentary darkness, a temporary void that swallowed me whole. But when I awoke, my limbs were there, twisted and mangled, a grotesque mockery of what they once were. I barely recognize myself, this vulnerable creature lying in a hospital bed, stripped of the beauty and elegance that defined me. Panic surges through my veins as I try to gather my thoughts, to piece together the fragments of memory. The sound of my weak voice calling Caroline's name resonates in my ears, and I turn my head, hoping to find solace in her presence. Caroline, too, lies in a bed nearby, her body stained by blood, wounds marking her form. Though she seems less grievously injured, her legs are immobile, devoid of sensation. Her strength, however, has not abandoned her, as she fiercely propels herself towards me, dragging me along in her desperate escape from the wreckage. I watch in horror as my mutilated arm becomes caught in the twisted metal, an inescapable trap. Caroline's desperate attempts to free me only intensify the excruciating pain. With a gut-wrenching, sickening sound, my arm separates from my shoulder, leaving me screaming in agony, my world temporarily drowning in darkness. And then, as if fate has a perverse sense of humor, we find ourselves at the side of the road. Caroline tears off her fashionable designer necktie, turning it into a makeshift tourniquet. Yet, as she tends to my wounds, a commotion erupts nearby, drawing our attention to the suspicious van that caused our devastation. Assailants scramble ...

Cluster 49