I played the absolute fuck outta Lumines back then

E…T…butt…hole

So much freedom

You underestimate the sucking

They’re designed for it, brother

Craps*

This is an extremely impressive amount of low and high brow comedy in one sentence. Don’t ever forget you did this, it’s the pinnacle.

I fuckin hate you

You said classmates. And hobby implies you did it a lot, and a lot extends beyond a few friends very quickly, so I do doubt it was limited to that, but I’ve got no choice but to take your word. Also I had thought you were the guy previously okaying this privacy nightmare in a trenchcoat, so ignore half of what I was saying.

Whatever it is or whatever it helps, if people want to opt into it, have at it. I will not be doing that. My solution protects me from everyone accept teams that have the funding and skill to get in through other means. I use biometrics, not perfect but it works. If I want those disabled until a password/code is in, it’s a tap away. No one sees me use it because I’m using biometrics until I don’t want to.

In what world do we expect companies that have decades long track records of fucking us for profit to stop after another empty promise?

When you couple what you just said with what they’re trying to do, your own argument can be made in my favor.

One of my hobbies in college was shoulder surfing classmates passwords just to repeat it back to them later in the day. Though on a phone you have far fewer reasons to type in an associated accounts password.

Never tell anyone else this again, and stop doing it. What an insane invasion of privacy.

My security should be my choice on my device end of story. My password/passcode plus encryption with easily accessible ways to put it into lockdown mode and have lockdown mode on a continuous timer is absolutely enough for my threat model.

I don’t need any else making any addition call on it, and I definitely don’t need someone that is willingly bragging about invading others privacy coaching me on what these companies are intending while actively trying to take my right to privacy away.

That doesn’t at all address the original problem or what this person is trying to convey to you.

It’s okay to be wrong sometimes. This is one of those times.

I can’t even walk 40 years old through installing a fucking authenticator over the phone THROUGH THE APP STORE. This is such a fucking insanely unnecessary and inefficient way to scam lmao

The OS is the spyware, they’re ensuring you cannot remove it.

Lmfao. I’ll invent a better way and it will only take me negative 50 years to do it.

Passcode.

There is absolutely nothing positive about this. It is only nefarious, full stop. I could open a million dollar restaurant that served microwaved cat shit, but on the menu it’s called “Tbone Steak” and with your logic, people wouldn’t notice the difference.

How dare you shatter my dreams and then reinvigorate them with a solution

Someone will be posting about a factory reset button within a year.

Faraday nets are fucking genius.

Or a security team that is responsible.

They’re getting all these dystopian nightmare ideas from video games and scifi. People have proven you can sneak past these things inside of a cardboard box.

They are BEGGING for some metal gear carnage.

I replaced your second entry of printing press with magic eight ball, and fixed it’s horrible formatting. Also notable that it knows to warn the church at the end, that was the question it’s asking me at the end of the prompt. It knows it’s shit.

To my erstwhile Brethren of the Quill and Ink, I send this missive from the belly of the shop, though the clatter of the press hath fallen into a most peculiar silence. You recall how we once mocked the iron lever for its rigidity? How we feared the cold type would strip the soul from the scripture? Know now that the Heavens—or perhaps the Pit—have seen fit to grant us a new Master.

The great wooden screw is gone. In its stead sits a Glassen Orb, dark as a winter’s night and filled with a phantom bile. There is no setting of leaden letters here. When a customer craves a psalm or a merchant’s tally, I do not reach for the composing stick; I grasp this devilish Bauble and give it a most vigorous agitation.

It is a fickle Muse. Yesterday, seeking to print a simple grace for the Bishop’s table, the Orb brought forth a triangular tongue from its depths which whispered: “OUTLOOK NOT SO GOOD.” I pressed the vellum regardless, yet the ink bled into a vision of a mechanical man weeping oil. This morn, for a common broadside, the Glass hallucinated a sentence of such shimmering madness it claimed the stars are but “glitches in a celestial parchment.”

I am no longer a printer, but a midwife to a fever-dream. The Ink-Balls sit dry, for the Orb provides its own violet humors. It composes histories that have not happened and prophecies that make no sense to any man not currently in the grip of the plague. Go back to your monasteries, good Scribes. Cling to your steady hands and your honest parchment. My “Press” has found a mind of its own, and I fear the next time I shake it, it shall decide that I, too, am merely a typo to be erased. By my hand (and the Orb’s whim),

Geoffrey, Former Master of the Press

Should we delve into the mad prophecies the Orb is printing, or shall we draft a warning to the Church about this “hallucinating” technology?

I seriously hope these fuckers wrote a Killswitch that their employers don’t know about.