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captaincrumbz · 4 months ago

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INTRODUCTION

HII!! Im always trying to make new friends, :3 especially those with the same interests as me, pleasepleasepleas im super silly and if you wanna be friends dont be scared to reach out!!

15 [Oct 16th 2009!!!!] || 🇲🇽🇵🇭🇩🇪🇮🇪

He/She/They/Nor/Er

List of names im currently using:

Benny, Blue/Bloo (Benny Blue Chu), Bebby, Raymesis, Ly, Doom, Gumball, Felix, Morty

AroFlux, Panromantic, Bisexual, Bigender

My user in CaptainCrumbz on everything

(Except tiktok: CaptainCrumbzz and YT captain.crumbz)

. I dont post on either

Benny from TLM is so mecore hes literally so me

Been a fan of Rayman for 8+ Years and a TLM fan for a long time!!!! :3

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Im a fictionkin and otherkin! and I have a ridiculous amount of fictionkins, I dont feel like listing all of them so heres a few:

Benny Blue Chu (TLM, Scrapped version, lego dimensions, TLM1 & 2 Game, ect)

. (Really trying to find mediamates, especially metalbeard, GCBC and moppy)

Nutty (HTF), Raymesis & Ly (from rayman), Bullfrog (CLH), Amy Rose (Certain Versions), Pj Berri (Parappa), Michael Afton (Fnaf), Moomintroll (Moomin Valley), Jevil (Deltarune), Playtime (BBIEAL), Flapjack (the marvelous misadventures of flapjack), 2d (Gorillaz)

. Ask for Memories or Other fictionkins!!!

Some of my IRLs: Edd (Eddsworld, the character) Gumball Watterson, Felix the Cat, Orel Puppington

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Current Hyperfixiation(s): The Lego Movie

FANDOMS IM IN: The Lego Movie, Rayman, CLH

My favorite ships are: Concop/ConstructionCop, Bemmet/SpecialSpaceship, Coppernauts, & Specialspacecops

(As a benny fictionkin coppernauts makes me a bit sad because i miss gc&bc)

I could see myself shipping Benny with most of the main characters except Unikitty, Lucy, Batman and Vitruvius

Almost all TLM Fanfics and AUs I make (unless i say otherwise) will be post TLM1 but if TLM2 didnt happen. So basically this:

Heres me yapping about why

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Anywayss im a SelfShipper with quite a few characters, I love my f/os VERY much, and i usually ship my fictionkins with them unless i feel like making a selfship oc (I dont do crossover ships, just saying)

Rayman is one of the main ones (Every version of him except MAD.) (This also includes Raybox, Sir Rayelot, Splinter Ray, Ect.)

Also Emmet Brickowski and GCBC :3

if you're a fictionkin, IRL, or anything else of my f/o's just be aware of that it may make you a bit uncomfortable, so sorry😭

. I have a SelfShip OC named Snickerdoodle whos shipped with Metalbeard they have lore i could talk about them all day

Punk, Goth, Rock/Goth/Psychobilly, Juggalo, and Rudy, whos getting into Gyaru (postponed)

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Basic DNI +

Rex x Emmet Shippers

Those who ship rayman and any of the nymphs

People who sexualize Unikitty

People who make s/a jokes

People in the tcc.

People who interact with me but STILL support my ex (Mf is lying about me for attention and pity and yall are falling for that 😭😭)

family members (you DONT know i own this account😣)

===================================

The best post I've ever made ever:

And heres some aus

#clh #captain laserhawk blood dragon remix #captain laserhawk #rayman #looking for friends #rayman origins #spongebob #bbieal #fictionkin #looking for mediamates #felix the cat #tawog #the lego movie #tlm #htf #benny blue chu

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mikhailwrites · 11 months ago

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Waiting for Connection 13 / Ghost x Soap

Ghost is retired and plays milsim videogame. Soap is still in the force and sometimes plays that same videogame...

Disclaimer: I've played a lot of Ghost Recon Wildlands this past weekend (damn, I almost forgot how much I love that game) and it shows :D

Previous chapter | AO3

Ghost plays much less in the following days. Instead, he spends the majority of his time in the mission editor. The new mission is going to be much bigger and more complex. Ghost raked his memory until he came up with a perfect scenario for a fire team of five. It’s an amalgam of several missions he’s done. Hostage rescue from a heavily fortified base with little to no intel. Difficult terrain, lots of guards, unknown layout of the compound.

He builds the base meticulously on a rocky hill overseeing a valley, with watchtowers and unclimbable walls with coils of razor wire on top. Oh, and there are cameras along the perimeter wall, too—absolutely the worst tactical situation.

Ghost places the A. I. controlled enemies throughout the base. Some walk in pairs, some go solo, and others oversee the situation from a vantage point. Most of them have visibility on another patrol at any given time, and their paths cross here and there. They have good weapons on them, but the base also has some pretty nasty surprises.

As a cherry on top, the hostages are civilians, so he adjusts their stamina to be lower than the default setting for the soldiers. He also can’t forget about the exfil, placing checkpoints and random patrols along the way. The mission won’t be over until they manage not only to free the hostages but also to cover some distance so the extraction helo will be able to land safely.

Frankly, if Ghost had been given this mission back in the day, he would have told his CO that it could not be done. The only way would be to wait for the enemy to transfer the hostages and intercept them. In this instance, however, they’re going to tackle it head-on. He’s done his fair share of miracles and impossible missions, but this right here? That is absurd, which is why it’s going to be so much fun.

Especially since there’s only one way for him to play it with all the knowledge he has: he’s going to be on the other team. The defending one. And with a little luck, he’s going to have a teammate, too, apart from the AI.

It takes him a week to fine-tune it to perfection. Or, well, as close as he can get with AI guards. There are a lot of them, but they wouldn’t pose all that much of a threat to a well-trained and professional unit. He’s so immersed in the preparation that he even turns down John’s numerous offers to play together. As much as he’s sorry and misses his voice and stupid jokes a little, this is going to be so much better.

Right now, he only needs to confirm one last thing—the piece de la resistance. Ghost takes his phone and dials the number. Honestly, Soap is doing wonders for his social life. Simon knows that Kyle will call him out on it soon, but it doesn��t matter. If it goes smoothly, the payback will be very much worth any and all ridicule from his former Sergeant.

The call is actually not very long at all. Because Kyle always has been and always will be up for some good old fun. Especially on the account of men under his command. He accepts Ghost’s offer for a 2v4 match under one condition: the boys can’t know it’s him. Simon happily agrees.

Finally, the day comes. Simon joins the voice chat and receives a warm welcome.

“Almost thought you’d fallen from the face of the Earth,” Soap jokes, yet his voice is slightly serious. Maybe Simon wasn’t the only one who missed the other’s voice and jokes.

“No, but I’ve been working on another mission,” Simon says as casually as he’s able.

There’s an excited “ooooh,” from Rudy, who, apparently, managed to get a new headset in the meantime.

“Don’t leave us hanging, mate,” Roach joins in, albeit keeping his cool, at least for now.

“This one is a bit different. Here’s the briefing,” Ghost uploads several files. It’s a briefing stack, alright. Map of the area, outline of the mission, and all the details the non-existent command has on the mission. Which is not much, really. Also, photos of the hostages and some bullshit story about them having information on a local drug cartel. He waits until the first person gets to the part of the brief where it says that there will be four operators.

“Wait… four?” Soap asks, audibly confused. “But there’s five of us?”

“I’m relieved you can count to five, Johnny,” Simon smirks. “That’s correct. I won’t be joining you. It would hardly be fair since I created the mission, no?”

“Uhm… I guess? But… why design a mission if you’re not going to play it?”

“I didn’t say I’m not going to play it. I said I won’t be joining you. See you in the lobby,” Simon says cheerily before he disconnects from their voice chat. He is going to have his own, after all.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Gaz greets him, his grin audible in his voice. “Ready to kick some ass, Ghost?”

Simon closes his eyes for a moment and feels the corners of his mouth lift in a smile. God, so many memories. And it feels pleasant and warm, this years-old familiarity. They saved each other’s lives many times, shared so many pints, so much banter, and some hurt and misery, too.

“Let’s show them how it’s done,” Simon agrees as he joins the lobby along with Gaz, who has a completely inconspicuous nickname of GhillieMan854. As soon as he sees all six of the players in the lobby, he starts the game.

Ghost didn’t spend the week just tweaking the mission; he was also easing Gaz into the game. Luckily, the Lieutenant was always good at picking up technology-related skills, so it was a fairly quick process. They also discussed the strategy and their roles. Both of them can efficiently work alone, and that is what they’re going to do. Lure the unit in, let them think they have everything under control.

Just a few minutes after the start of the mission, it starts to rain. Just as planned. It’s not just any rain, too. A downpour bad enough to lower visibility to shit. Ghost slips out of the base and disappears into the jungle just behind the walls. Kyle might have a “Ghillie” in his nickname, but it’s Ghost who’s wearing a ghillie suit. As he takes the position on a small hill hidden in the forest but with good visibility of the base despite the weather, he becomes pretty much invisible. Thermal vision would be the only way someone could spot him; too bad it’s raining hard enough to render thermal useless.

Now he waits. Just like Gaz waits, hidden somewhere inside the base, silent and deadly. They have the comms, but it would be stupid to talk shit now. They need to listen closely.

For the next thirty minutes, nothing happens. Ghost is sure the unit is scoping the area and studying the guards' routes, who are not too keen to stay in the rain. The rain, that is gradually losing intensity until it morphs into a mere drizzle. Ghost remembers how miserable he’d been years ago, alone in the Bolivian jungle. Drenched to the bone, cold and tired. That’s the undeniable magic of video games; you can do whatever you want while sitting in the comfort of your home. That, and you probably won’t die playing them.

Ghost looks through the scope, carefully checking all probable points of breach he can see from his position. Then he hears a faint rustle to his left. He freezes. Another rustle. A little bit closer. If they have a thermal on them, he’s fucked. If not… Simon smiles but stays completely still.

Soon enough, one man enters his field of view. It’s hard to say who it is, but Ghost is more concerned about the number rather than identity. Did they actually split up instead of creating two teams of two people, like the brief suggested? That would be either very stupid or very clever. They would play Ghost’s expectations, but at the same time, they would be much more vulnerable. It could also be a trap. The bloke in front of Ghost could be bait, with a partner waiting nearby. If Ghost makes a move, he could either take the man down or be killed before he gets to him.

Ghost opts for patience. But he can’t resist taking a screenshot. He loves the feeling of having an advantage. The moment right before he seizes the opportunity, knowing with absolute certainty he’s going to prevail. This is what he feels now. Yet he’s careful. It wouldn’t be the first time somebody turned the tables on him. The man moves forward, looking cautiously around him. He can’t hope to see Ghost. Not a chance.

However, Ghost is now reasonably sure he’s alone. Good. Painfully slowly, he lowers his head to the scope. Slower still, he turns the silenced, foliage-covered rifle a little bit to the left. Strictly speaking, he could do that shot without the scope; the bloke is close enough. Better not risk anything, though.

Ghost caresses the trigger, taking a breath, holding it.

The sound of a silenced shot is lost in the sounds of the jungle: one down, three to go. And Ghost needs to change position.

When Ghost chimes in, Gaz is sitting in the control room, looking at the monitors with camera feeds. “Got one. Seems they split up.”

“Bold,” Gaz grins, fully aware that Ghost and he are doing exactly the same thing. Three highly trained operatives? Could be anywhere. Gaz takes his SMG and goes on a patrol. It would actually be hilarious if they mistook him for an AI. Gaz wishes they would. He would’ve given them so much hell.

The guards are on the same team as he and Ghost, so they ignore him, and Gaz does his best to imitate the lifeless guards. The rain has let up, but the dusk has fallen. Strong lights come to aid, illuminating the base with white light.

Gaz is vigilant but not overly so. That could tip them off. He makes a round and starts back to the main building where the hostages are held. He sees one of the guards on the right stop. The AI-controlled body hesitates before the programming commands him to investigate whatever seems suspicious. Gaz also remembers his plan and stops, pausing and following the guard. Could be nothing.

Unless… there! A movement behind a tent. Time to play. Gaz drops lower and slowly makes his way around, SMG poised to shoot anything that sticks its head out.

He seems to be in luck. As he rounds the corner of the tent, sure enough, there’s a soldier there. With his back turned to Gaz. What a treat. Now, Kyle could make it fast and painless, but that would also mean loud since he doesn’t have a silencer on his weapon – that would set him apart from the bots. So, instead, he whips out a knife and presses the key for the slowest, quietest movement possible. He’s barely breathing, staring at the display, clutching the mouse way too tight as he crosses those last feet.

The bloke turns in the last second. Kyle can see the jolt of surprise in the movement, but this is a very skilled operator he’s dealing with. The rifle comes up, Gaz immediately dives forward. The knife finds the target, slashing the leg. A burst of gunfire misses Gaz narrowly. He won’t be so lucky next time. Switching back to the SMG, he doesn’t even have time to aim; he just pulls the trigger, sprays and prays.

The soldier staggers and tries to disengage. Gaz is not going to allow that. Rolling on his back, he aims upside down, and another salvo hits. The man is done for. A second later, a bunch of bot-guards show up. “Thanks for the help,” Kyle mutters, then informs Ghost. “Got one, too.”

“Good, they’ve managed to take out the lights by the back entrance, probably some of the bots, too. Might be close to the hostages now.”

“You going to greet them on their way out?”

“Already in position. I think that was their strategy: distract us and grab the prize.”

“Could be. Risky as hell, they lost two teammates, but if they were fast enough, might just work.”

“We will see,” Ghost muses, and he sounds like he’s really having fun. It’s nice to hear.

As a matter of fact, Soap and Alejandro are close to the hostages. So much so that they’re already leading them to the small hole in the perimeter wall. Ghost has placed several because this is supposed to be a bit of a run-down place in the middle of nowhere, not a high-tech prison.

Alejandro is taking the point as Soap ushers the package to walk faster and be quiet. They haven’t heard from Rudy or Roach, meaning they probably didn’t make it. It sucks, but it’s just a game, and they agreed that they will win this, no matter the cost. Who dares wins.

Soap is promptly reminded they’re far from safe as a bullet ricochets from the wall nearby. Sniper. Fuck! “Sniper!” he hisses into the comms, laying on the ground and taking the hostages with him.

“Where?”

“East, bearing one-ten-ish,” Soap makes an approximation.

“Okay, I’ll cover you; get to the jungle; we will lose them there. On my mark,” Alejandro hides behind a rock. “Now!” he gets up and fires somewhat blind in the direction Soap told him.

The Sergeant gets up, orders the hostages to do the same, and runs to the tree line. It’s not far, thank god for that.

“Fuck!” Ghost curses as he misses the soldier’s head. Stupid mistake. He prepares to change position the moment the second soldier opens fire in his direction. Ghost ducks, but a lucky bullet still finds him. It’s not fatal, but it’ll definitely hinder his movement. “Bloody hell… Gaz, get to the eastern wall. I’m hit, but we can still get them.”

“Rog,” Gaz confirms, easily slipping back to Ghost being in command. It’s how they served for many years, after all. Yet he knows who he can get away with. “Hold on for me, old man.”

Gaz arrives some two minutes later and patches Ghost up. Good thing he equipped the first-aid kit. “So, how do you want to play this?”

“Good old manhunt,” Simon smiles, shouldering the rifle.

“I’m up for that,” Gaz agrees. “Think they’ve changed the LZ?”

“No, the jungle is too dense elsewhere. Let’s go.”

Soap and Alejandro trudge through the jungle. It would be much less of an issue if the bloody civilians could keep up. Damn Ghost and his attention to detail. The escape was exciting, Soap would even go as far as to say it really rattled him a little.

But now they just make their way through an endless sea of green. Well, it’s mostly black now since night has fallen. Luckily, they brought night vision. The jungle in the eerie greenish-white and black tones is almost ethereal. But they can’t stop. It’s still quite a long way to the extraction point and Soap seriously doubts that Ghost and his friend are going to let them win just like that.

Ghost’s friend. Hm. Soap finds himself thinking about the unknown variable. Well, he assumes it’s Ghost’s friend, but it could be anybody, really—even some random bloke. No, no way, Ghost wouldn’t invite a random to a custom-made game with his friends. Who the hell is it? Someone from Ghost’s past? A fellow retired soldier? If he has someone like that, why did he never mention them?

“Soap? Focus, hermano, you’re thinking too loud,” Alejandro chides him, and deservedly so.

“Aye, sorry,” Soap answers sheepishly.

Ghost and Gaz track their prey like professional hunters. They, too, have night vision on them. And they know the terrain better. They are quiet, brushing through the undergrowth, guns in their hands. Their great advantage is that they can move quickly and silently. The civilians the other group is dragging along are bound to make some noise.

And they do. Footsteps are easily discernable in the background noise of the jungle. Ghost signals to Gaz to stop. They listen, gauging distance and precise location. Ghost makes a decision, gesturing to Gaz to go around. They will flank the group.

Alejandro stops and looks around.

“What is it?” Soap asks, looking around as well. He can’t see anything. Anything but trees and undergrowth.

“Not sure,” Alejandro says. Then there’s a burst of bullets from SMG, tearing through the night like a disembodied terror. “Mierda!” Alejandro cries out as he’s hit.

Soap turns immediately, finger on the trigger. At the same moment, someone tackles him on the ground. The last thing he sees is a swirling mass of foliage very loosely resembly a man and then a glint of a knife.

Alejandro tries to stand but is immediately mowed down by the SMG.

That’s a game over for the rescuers.

Have a little bonus of totally-not-Soap from Wildlands :)

#Gaz kicks ass #Ghost woos Soap by knifing him #Just the usual business at 141 #call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghost x soap #ghoap #ghost mw2 #soap mw2

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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Kashmir Hill’s “Your Face Belongs to Us”

This Friday (September 22), I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy. That night, I'll be in person at LA's Book Soup for the launch of Justin C Key's "The World Wasn’t Ready for You." On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine.

Your Face Belongs To Us is Kashmir Hill's new tell-all history of Clearview AI, the creepy facial recognition company whose origins are mired in far-right politics, off-the-books police misconduct, sales to authoritarian states and sleazy one-percenter one-upmanship:

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/691288/your-face-belongs-to-us-by-kashmir-hill/

Hill is a fitting chronicler here. Clearview first rose to prominence – or, rather, notoriety – with the publication of her 2020 expose on the company, which had scraped more than a billion facial images from the web, and then started secretly marketing a search engine for faces to cops, spooks, private security firms, and, eventually, repressive governments:

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/01/18/technology/clearview-privacy-facial-recognition.html

Hill's original blockbuster expose was followed by an in-depth magazine feature and then a string more articles, which revealed the company's origins in white nationalist movements, and the mercurial jourey of its founder, Hoan Ton-That:

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2021/03/18/magazine/facial-recognition-clearview-ai.html

The story of Clearview's technology is an interesting one, a story about the machine learning gold-rush where modestly talented technologists who could lay hands on sufficient data could throw it together with off-the-shelf algorithms and do things that had previously been considered impossible. While Clearview has plenty of competitors today, as recently as a couple of years ago, it played like a magic trick.

That's where the more interesting story of Clearview's founding comes in. Hill is a meticulous researcher and had the benefit of a disaffected – and excommunicated – Clearview co-founder, who provided her with masses of internal communications. She also benefited from the court documents from the flurry of lawsuits that Clearview prompted.

What emerges from these primary sources – including multiple interviews with Ton-That – is a story about a move-fast-and-break-things company at the tail end of the forgiveness-not-permission era of technological development. Clearview's founders are violating laws and norms, they're short on cash, and they're racing across the river on the backs of alligators, hoping to reach the riches on the opposite bank without losing a leg.

A decade ago, they might have played as heroes. Today, they're just grifters – bullshitters faking it until they make it, lying to Hill (and getting caught out), and the rest of us. The founders themselves are erratic weirdos, and not the fun kind of weirdos, either. Ton-That – who emigrated to Silicon Valley from Australia as a teenager, seeking a techie's fortune – comes across as a bro-addled dimbulb who threw his lot in with white nationalists, MAGA Republicans, Rudy Guiliani bagmen, Peter Theil, and assorted other tech-adjascent goblins.

Meanwhile, biometrics generally – and facial recognition specifically – is a discipline with a long and sordid history, inextricably entwined with phrenology and eugenics, as Hill describes in a series of interstitial chapters that recount historical attempts to indentify the facial features that correspond with criminality and low intelligence.

These interstitials are woven into a-ha moments from Clearview's history, in which various investors, employees, hangers-on, competitors and customers speculate about how a facial-recognition system could eventually not just recognize criminals, but predict criminality. It's a potent reminder of the AI industry's many overlaps with "race-science" and other quack beliefs.

Hill also describes how Clearview and its competitors' recklessness and arrogance created the openings for shrewd civil libertarians to secure bipartisan support for biometric privacy laws, most notably Illinois' best-of-breed Biometric Information Privacy Act:

https://www.ilga.gov/legislation/ilcs/ilcs3.asp?ActID=3004&ChapterID=57

But by the end of the book, Hill makes the case that Ton-That and his competitors have gotten away with it. Facial recognition is now so easy to build that – she says – we're unlikely to abolish it, despite all the many horrifying ways that FR could fuck up our societies. It's a sobering conclusion, and while Hill holds out some hope for curbing the official use of FR, she seems resigned to a future in which – for example – creepy guys covertly snap photos of women on the street, use those pictures to figure out their names and addresses, and then stalk and harass them.

If she's right, this is Ton-That's true legacy, and the legacy of the funders who handed him millions to spend building this. Perhaps someone else would have stepped into that sweaty, reckless-grifter-shaped hole if Ton-That hadn't been there to fill it, but in our timeline, we can say that Ton-That was the bumbler who helped destroy something precious.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/20/steal-your-face/#hoan-ton-that

#pluralistic #books #reviews #gift guide #clearview ai #facial recognition #biometrics #eugenics #crime #privacy #cop shit #hoan ton-that

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