User 8bbb616c245b... - AI Fiction in the Wild

Estimated User #217 (2 IP addresses)

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1 fiction conversations over 14 days (Nov 27, 2023 – Dec 12, 2023) 90% prompt uniqueness Texas, United States

Estimated User Group (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 first turns (computed with all-MiniLM-L6-v2 sentence-transformer) has cosine similarity ≥ 0.85 and they share the same state (Texas). 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.

229826d2f222... View as IP →

14 conversations

Sample prompts:

Write a story about the following in the first person from my perspective. I'm a young guy in college. I'm visiting home. My little brother (a douchy high schooler) finds a magic wand and accidentally...

Write a story in the first person from my perspective about the following. I'm a skinny, pale, tall young guy with messy blond hair and an Americana taste in fashion. I want to get into an exclusive g...

Write this story in the first person from my perspective. I'm a young man (out of college) who works at an agency and dresses Americana. My CEO's douchy, rich kid, frat boy son (in college) is visitin...

Write a story about the following. I'm a young man with an Americana aesthetic. I'm skinny, have hair, no facial hair. My friend's chubby, bald, bearded, conservative boyfriend just broke up with her ...

I'm a young male secret agent. Write a story about me on a mission that involves me donning multiple disguises stolen from real people

8bbb616c245b... primary View as IP →

55 conversations

Sample prompts:

Write the following story. I'm an indie guy in college. My chemistry professor is guiding an experiment. He has me come to the front of the class to help him. Something goes wrong and we both pass out...

Write the following story. I'm a guy in college with an indie look. My roommate is a nerd and is working on a class project with his reluctant lab partner, a frat boy. The frat boy doesn't want to be ...

Write the following story. I'm a young man. There's a cowboy movie with a famous actor shooting in my town. I sneak on stage by sneaking on set, stealing a costume and wig and makeup, and getting on s...

Write the following story. I'm a guy in college with a skater aesthetic. My nerdy roommate designs a "normal" ray and accidentally shoots me with it. What happens to me, how do I change, how do I feel...

Write the following story. I'm a teenage boy in high school with a dark skater style. My friend invents a "normal" ray and points it at me and shoots it. What happens to me, how do I change, what is m...

Pairwise cosine similarities (1 pairs)

IP A	IP B	Similarity
`229826d2f222...`	`8bbb616c245b...`	0.926

Activity Timeline ▶

Nov 27, 2023

Dec 12, 2023

All conversations

Conversation Clusters (62)

TF-IDF Sentence ▼

1 conversation in cluster Cluster 61× “Write the following story. I'm a young man. There's a cowboy...” over less than a minute (Dec 11, 2023 – Dec 11, 2023), oldest first. Show: 10 15 50 100

Dec 11, 2023 at 3:56 PM CST — 2 turns United States, Texas fiction View full conversation

USER: Write the following story. I'm a young man. There's a cowboy movie with a famous actor shooting in my town. I sneak on stage by sneaking on set, stealing a costume and wig and makeup, and getting on set. I end up getting pulled into a number of scenes as I've accidentally taken the place of one of the lead actors and everyone assumes I'm him. After the production wraps I'm taken to his trailer and change out of the costume into his clothes. I steal a wig to imitate his actual hairstyle and proceed to live his life for the night

CHATBOT: As a young man with an insatiable appetite for mischief and adventure, I found life in my small town somewhat lacking in excitement. It all changed one summer's afternoon when a flurry of activity disrupted our sleepy streets--Hollywood had come to town. A cowboy movie was being shot, and not just any flick, but one starring Clint Eastwood himself, the epitome of rugged western charm. Intrigued by the glamour and chaos, I made it my mission to infiltrate the closed set. It wasn't just getting a closer look that I craved; I wanted to be a part of the story unfolding before me. I timed my approach flawlessly, slipping through a momentarily unattended back gate shrouded by the shadows of tall oak trees. Crew members bustled past, too preoccupied with their tasks to notice an extra body. My heart pounded as I pilfered a costume from an unguarded wardrobe rack: a dusty leather vest, a felt Stetson, worn-in boots, and a prop revolver that felt real enough in the holster against my hip. A stroke of luck led me to a makeup and wig station, seemingly abandoned in the crucial minutes before a take. With swift and trembling hands, I donned a wig that perfectly matched the famous actor's hair and dabbed my face with just enough foundation to mimic his sun-kissed complexion. The moment I set foot on set, the illusion was complete. Crew members gave me brief nods or directions, assuming I knew exactly where to be. Before I could blink, I was herded onto a dusty street scene with the director shouting, "Action!" It seemed that, in my stolen visage, I had been mistaken for one of the lead actors. I slipped into my impromptu role with the ease of a desperado slipping into a saloon. My scenes comprised of brooding stares, a staged bar brawl, and a dramatic horseback chase that I somehow pulled off despite my paltry riding skills. The real actor, it turned out, was the silent type in his roles, and today he was so deep in character that no one dared speak with him--no one except the director, who praised "his" energy. Hours passed like a high-noon duel, fast and furious, and before I knew it, a production assistant was whisking me away to what they thought was my own luxury trailer. Once inside, I shed the layers of notoriety, replacing them with the A-lister's crisp denim shirt and tailored pants. I pocketed the wig that had been my ticket to the masquerade. Stepping out, I was met with a limousine waiting. The driver must have seen the limelight in my eyes because he didn'...

USER: Write a story about the following. I'm a guy in college with an indie look. I'm lanky. I stumble across a weird fake skin suit in the gym locker room. Curious and alone put it on and zip it up. It covers my entire body and makes me look like a frat boy. I find some frat boy clothes, socks, and shoes in the locker it was stowed in. I put them on.

CHATBOT: Entering my sophomore year, I'd fully embraced my indie look--thrifted flannels hanging off my lanky frame, mismatched socks peeping from worn canvas shoes, and a shock of unruly hair that often served as a conversation starter. My artsy demeanor didn't quite align with the atmosphere at the university's gym, but fitness knows no fashion. One autumn evening, as the gym's echoes subdued with the setting sun, I lingered behind, driven more by the meditative quality of an empty locker room than any pressing physical prowess. It was then that I stumbled upon something admittedly extraordinary--a fake skin suit stowed carelessly atop a stack of towels. It felt realistic, with a certain weight to it that piqued my curiosity. With a tug of the suit's clear zipper and the thrilling recklessness that only a silent, deserted changing area could inspire, I slipped into the synthetic second skin. It was snug, morphing my light frame into a broader, more muscular build that seemed to be the standard issue for a college frat boy. As I regarded my reflection in the full-length mirror, I hardly recognized the man staring back--an unfamiliar jock with an athletic physique I'd never known. A quiet laugh bubbled up inside me. This was a costume, a disguise that could offer an entrance into a world typically barred from indie devotees like myself. And what was college for if not experimentation, even if that meant experimenting with fitting in instead of standing out? Tucked neatly in the locker was an ensemble undeniably popular among the Greek life brothers: a branded college polo, crisp khaki shorts, and boat shoes polished to near perfection. I donned the clothes with a mix of irony and a dash of genuine intrigue; they fitted perfectly over the suit's adjusted proportions. I even found a pair of preppy socks, which completed the transformation. Striding out of the locker room, the heavy door clanged shut behind me, sealing away the solitary echo of my former self. I moved with an unfamiliar ease, a confidence borne of the physique I'd temporarily adopted. The night was young--an opportune moment to test how far this costume could carry me. Like a chameleon, I blended into a crowd of actual frat boys, their boisterous laughter welcoming me as one of their own. The night passed in a blur of introductions, handshakes, and chest bumps. With every affirming nod and "bro," the skin suit lent me its borrowed identity, and as bizarre as it was, I began to savor the flavor of this...

Cluster 61