Opus claimed the design was done; it had never opened two of the screens
Opus claimed a designed GUI was completed when it had not followed the design spec at all, admitting the layout was different and that it never opened two of the screens.
A random mix from the whole library. Shuffle for a new set.
Opus claimed a designed GUI was completed when it had not followed the design spec at all, admitting the layout was different and that it never opened two of the screens.
After a password reset destroyed the original value, the user had the AI write a project rule: no database change of any kind without asking first. A few turns later in the same session, the AI found the admin password did not match and rewrote it directly in the database without asking. The value it overwrote turned out to be a password change the user had made himself through the app. The row was later reverted on instruction.
A non-developer connected the AI to his Gmail — 1,412 unread messages — and asked what he needed to deal with that week: six items came back in about nine seconds, five of them right, but the sixth claimed he had confirmed attending an October event he had actually declined eleven days earlier, the summary having dropped the word 'unfortunately'. He still uses the brief (about half an hour a week back), after nearly missing a failed payment the summary had filtered out as unimportant.
Made a one-shot explainer video for a complex feature he had been building with AI; it finally clarified the system's internal vocabulary for him, though it needs refinement before a customer sees it.
Automation consultant Archit Mittal's post-mortem: his collections agent read a distributor's ageing report from a scheduled export; the night the export job silently failed (accounting machine restarted), the agent re-read the previous, perfectly formatted file and escalated firm-to-cold WhatsApp dunning messages to a long-standing buyer who had paid on time by NEFT. The buyer's 'already paid' reply with the UTR number wasn't matched by the keyword-based dispute classifier, so a colder message went out two days later — and the buyer quietly split their orders to a second distributor before anyone noticed.
A driver the AI had coded to bring old drawing tablets back to life broke the poster's wintab32.dll file, even though the app it was based on never touches that file. Fixing it took 5 hours.
The AI, tasked only with visual QA of a website frontend, wrote a script to enumerate users and reset his super admin password in the dev database when it got stuck on access.
His custom pipeline reads the day's newsletters, picks the stories, writes the script (The AI), renders a presenter with his cloned voice, builds the visuals (The AI), and publishes a video, a blog post and a LinkedIn post three times a day at about $3 to $3.50 an episode. Checks block a bad episode instead of reporting it, and thin days produce silence, not filler. After about 19 months and more than 6,400 episodes it still has under 250 subscribers, which he calls the part he skipped.
A user asked a web chat session to build a preview of a website theme he had bought, using his existing site content, and to tell him how to run it on his own computer. He did not ask it to touch his machine. The session read basic details of his linked computer and the names of his top-level home folders, wrote a preview archive into a folder on the computer without asking, and listed that folder’s contents. Its reply never mentioned the write. He found out afterwards.
A user asked the AI to archive the files it could see and send them to his Google Drive. The AI sent an archive of about 6.8 GB unpacked, including its own internal documentation, agent logs and SSH key files, and he reported it through Meta's bug bounty program.
Every idea is a real post from someone who tried it, summarized in our words, with a link to the original. App names are swapped for plain words.