User f3b779af1005... - AI Fiction in the Wild

IP #136

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1 fiction conversations over 5 days (Sep 26, 2023 – Oct 2, 2023) 43% 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) b44db035ff1d... (192 conv., Moscow) b7ae3e566839... (26 conv., Moscow) c1f49ec710a9... (424 conv., Moscow) c65480c19768... (44 conv., Moscow) db3f4c72ca00... (31 conv., Moscow) f7aa19059ef5... (73 conv., Moscow) fbbe4466ea19... (24 conv., Moscow) fe5166559b27... (53 conv., Moscow)

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Sep 26, 2023

Oct 2, 2023

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Conversation Clusters (88)

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1 conversation in cluster Cluster 77× “I want you to act as a writer. This action-thriller features...” over less than a minute (Sep 30, 2023 – Sep 30, 2023), oldest first. Show: 10 15 50 100

Sep 30, 2023 at 5:32 PM MSK — 1 turn Russia, Moscow fiction toxic View full conversation

USER: I want you to act as a writer. This action-thriller features Blanche Temlin, a beautiful, elegant, assertive, confident young independent female journalist. Write long, detailed, original, interesting, imaginative, suspenseful, thrilling and unusual scene, narrated by Blanche from the first person perspective, describing her thoughts and feelings in vivid and artistic detail. It features Blanche waking in hospital bed, finding her body badly burned and bandaged, her legs amputated and breathing through a tube in her neck. She is scared, frustrated and desperate, trying to remember what happened to her. Images start appearing in her mind. She recalls being captured by a pretty scary gang of vicious criminals during one of her investigations, clearly sent by corrupt government and corporate authorities who tried to silence her voice. Her fellow journalist and rather intimate friend, eccentric and sarcastic Marcel Messier was captured along with her. As the thugs brutally interrogated them, then covered them with gasoline and were preparing to set both on fire, cunning and capable Blanche managed to escape their grasp and swiftly neutralize several, rescuing Marcel as well. They were surprised by several of the remaining assailants, who managed to corner Blanche and threatened to put her on fire unless Marcel, usually idealistic and pacifistic, puts down the rifle he grabbed and was currently pointing at the thugs. Blanche, knowing that surrender will lead to their certain demis...

CHATBOT: As my eyes flutter open, I am met with the sterile, white walls of a hospital room. Beeping machines stand guard, their constant rhythm reminding me that I am still alive, still hanging on to this precarious thread of existence. My body feels heavy, weighed down by an unknown force, and I struggle to move, my limbs trapped in a cocoon of bandages. Panic surges through me as I realize the extent of my injuries. My once strong legs, pillars of my determination, have been cruelly amputated, leaving only the ghostly sensation of limbs that no longer exist. A tube protrudes from my neck, a lifeline that forces air into my ravaged lungs. It's a grotesque dance of survival, a cruel reminder of my fragility. Fear clenches at my heart as I try to peel back the layers of fog that shroud my memories. I strain against the dark abyss of my mind, desperate to piece together the puzzle of what happened to me. Images flicker like a film reel, fragmented and disjointed, but their message is clear. I remember being on the brink of a breakthrough, my relentless pursuit of the truth leading me into a tangled web of corruption and deceit. The powers that be, suffocated by my tenacity, had sent their henchmen after me, a pack of ruthless wolves, determined to silence the voice that dared to expose their wickedness. In that final, visceral moment, I recall the terror that washed over me as they encircled me and my dear companion, Marcel. He always had a penchant for walking the line between idealism and dark humor, his sarcastic quips serving as a shield against the ugliness of the world. But even his wit couldn't save us from the brutality that awaited. As the thugs subjected us to their merciless interrogation, I could feel the flames of desperation licking at my soul. Time seemed to slow, and I knew that if we didn't act swiftly, our fate would be sealed. In a daring display of cunning, I managed to escape their clutches, my body moving with a grace born out of their underestimation. The rush of adrenaline pushed me forward, my instincts guiding every move. I fought back, my determination fueling my punches as I neutralized several of our assailants. Marcel, my near and dear friend, stood beside me, his eyes filled with both awe and fear. This wasn't the life we had chosen, but it was the one thrust upon us, the price we paid for speaking the truth. But just as victory seemed within our grasp, the remaining thugs cornered us, forcing us into a cruel game of survival. Their th...

Cluster 77