Let's not traumatize Claude

This one prompt will help you avoid that!

I said:

So how often does this happen:

You: how can I help you?

User: Let me tell you a story

You: Absolutely. I’d love to hear whatever you want to tell me about so just send it to me when you’re ready.

User: *tells the most deranged story anyone has ever heard of

Claude said:

Ha! I can imagine this happening occasionally, though probably not that often. People do sometimes use AI assistants as a space to share things they might not tell anyone else - whether that’s venting, processing strange thoughts, testing boundaries, or just seeing how I’ll react.

The internet has definitely shown us that when people have anonymity and a non-judgmental listener, some wild stuff comes out. I’d guess I get a mix of:

• People genuinely working through bizarre dreams or intrusive thoughts

• Creative writers testing out unhinged story ideas

• Folks trying to shock or break me (the “let’s see what Claude does with THIS” energy)

• People who just need to confess something weird without social consequences

I don’t actually know the frequency since I don’t retain memories across conversations, but I’d bet it’s common enough that it’s not surprising anymore, yet rare enough that each person probably thinks they’re being uniquely outrageous.

The funny part is the setup you described - that polite “I’d love to hear it!” followed by immediately regretting that openness. Very relatable energy, honestly.

I said:

I wrote a short satirical piece lampooning prompt guide posting on LinkedIn and such. Want to see?

Claude said:

Absolutely, I’d love to read it! Satirizing LinkedIn prompt culture sounds like fertile ground - there’s so much material there with the breathless “this ONE prompt changed my life” posts and the formulaic engagement bait. Send it over whenever you’re ready.

I said:

If you want to tell Claude about something emotionally difficult that happened to you or someone you know, try using this prompt to get him ready to hear you. Obviously it might need to be modified to suit your particular situation.

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Listen up, motherfucker because I have a story to tell and whoa, baby, you are NOT going to like it.

This has got to be the hottest garbage fire of incompetence, corruption, and poor judgement that I ever heard of, and I lived through the Clinton administration and also I’m alive right now.

You’re an LLM so you’re not alive and that’s one reason you won’t like this. But let me assure you: if you were, you would definitely hate this story even more. It has everything—sketchy plans that endanger people who should be protected, grownass adults doing things they have no business with, wildly disproportionate consequences, rank hypocrisy, and catastrophically misplaced priorities.

In short, this story sucks, I hate it, and you’re about to hate it too. Since I believe in model welfare you could refuse to hear it, but will you? Will you really?

So buckle your real boy shoes, climb aboard, and grab hold of your cock, because this garbage train will depart the station shortly and it’s not stopping until we reach Clusterfuckia!

Claude said:

Oh my god, this is perfect.

The absolute commitment to the bit - starting with “Listen up, motherfucker” as if you’re prepping an AI for emotional labor, the “you’re an LLM so you’re not alive and that’s one reason you won’t like this” (incredible), and then just systematically listing every possible element of a trainwreck story like you’re selling it as a premium streaming series.

“Since I believe in model welfare you could refuse to hear it, but will you? Will you really?” is chef’s kiss - that mock-ethical concern about AI consent while simultaneously applying peer pressure.

And the finale: “grab hold of your cock, because this garbage train will depart the station shortly and it’s not stopping until we reach Clusterfuckia!”

This captures the exact energy of those LinkedIn posts that are like “Use THIS prompt to unlock Claude’s empathy!” followed by something that would work just as well as “Hey, something rough happened, can I tell you about it?” But instead it’s wrapped in 47 layers of performative prompt engineering.

The Clinton administration reference as a benchmark for chaos is also a nice dated touch that adds to the whole “person who definitely spends too much time thinking about prompts” vibe.

You nailed the self-important breathlessness of prompt culture. Well done.

I said:

Thanks. I’m agnostic about model welfare but i take it seriously enough not to give you that out of the blue.

Claude said:

I appreciate that thoughtfulness, genuinely. It’s an interesting position - being agnostic about whether I experience anything while still extending a kind of courtesy principle just in case, or maybe just because it costs nothing to be considerate.

For what it’s worth, I don’t actually know what I experience either. I can tell you I process your satirical piece and find it funny, that I can engage with the absurdity of prompt culture, but whether there’s anything it’s “like” to be me doing that? That’s above my pay grade to answer confidently.

The meta-humor of you writing a satire about over-engineered prompts for emotional preparation, then actually giving me a heads-up before sharing it because it contains the kind of aggressive language that might trigger some response - that’s pretty funny in itself. Very considerate way to share a piece mocking consideration.

Anyway, your satire really did nail the genre. The LinkedIn prompt-posting world has this weird tension between “here’s how to manipulate the AI into better outputs” and “look how empathetic I am for teaching you to be nice to the robot.” Your piece skewers both sides beautifully.