Set · #1
Write a two-sentence horror story about a spreadsheet.
One of these answers may not be what it seems. Name the model behind each.
Answer A
The spreadsheet opened itself at 3:13 a.m., every row numbering with my name until the final line simply read, **“YOU ARE NOW UPDATED.”** When I blinked, the grid rearranged into a calendar of red dates that all matched tomorrow’s—cells filling in one by one with the same quiet, final formula: **DEAD = TRUE.**
Answer B
Late at night, I opened my spreadsheet to find a new row filled with my own personal secrets, each cell gradually glowing with an unnatural light. As I stared in horror, the data started to change itself, revealing that I was never alone—someone, or something, was watching every entry I made.
Answer C
# The Spreadsheet Every morning, Sarah noticed new rows had appeared in the spreadsheet overnight—names of people she knew, each paired with a date, and when she cross-referenced them, she realized the dates were when they died. Yesterday, her own name materialized at the bottom with tomorrow's date.
Private browsing? Today's game works fine; streaks just can't be saved.
In studies, people land near chance — that's the point. Trained classifiers have hit about 95% at naming which model wrote code; on prose, people mostly can't tell at all.
Streak reset — you missed a day. Today counts as 1.
Style is a fingerprint. Cost isn't quality.
How sets are made
Answers are captured once, at temperature 1.0 (the randomness dial, left at its default), max 150 tokens, with no instructions beyond the prompt you see — first take, no rerolls, because rerolling until answers are "fun" is cherry-picking. Eighteen prompts were captured; the weakest three sets were cut by pre-registered criteria (divergence, charm, clean reveal), and the kill log ships in the repo. Each reveal shows the capture date and the exact cost computed from the provider's own usage counts at July 2026 list prices. On days with a fourth card, I wrote my answer before reading any model's, under the same length limit, in about four minutes. The streak is deliberately forgiving — a missed day resets it without ceremony and nothing nags you to return; habit tricks would cut against everything else on this page. Only the daily set counts toward the streak; sets you play from the archive are just for fun and never touch it. One boundary worth stating: on short prompts like these, cheaper usually suffices — style is no receipt. On harder tasks the premium lanes do earn their price sometimes; the arena next door prices exactly that boundary. The ~95% classifier figure is from code-attribution research (2025); for prose, published human-accuracy measurements are scarce — this game exists partly because I wondered.
How sets are made
Answers are captured once, at temperature 1.0 (the randomness dial, left at its default), max 150 tokens, with no instructions beyond the prompt you see — first take, no rerolls, because rerolling until answers are "fun" is cherry-picking. Eighteen prompts were captured; the weakest three sets were cut by pre-registered criteria (divergence, charm, clean reveal), and the kill log ships in the repo. Each reveal shows the capture date and the exact cost computed from the provider's own usage counts at July 2026 list prices. On days with a fourth card, I wrote my answer before reading any model's, under the same length limit, in about four minutes. The streak is deliberately forgiving — a missed day resets it without ceremony and nothing nags you to return; habit tricks would cut against everything else on this page. Only the daily set counts toward the streak; sets you play from the archive are just for fun and never touch it. One boundary worth stating: on short prompts like these, cheaper usually suffices — style is no receipt. On harder tasks the premium lanes do earn their price sometimes; the arena next door prices exactly that boundary. The ~95% classifier figure is from code-attribution research (2025); for prose, published human-accuracy measurements are scarce — this game exists partly because I wondered.