Category: Cognitive technologies
How to Spot a Maniac on Social Media: Finding the Madman Before He Finds Us
“Not all strange people are dangerous, but all dangerous people are strange”
Anonymous author
Before we move on to the instructions, let’s answer one simple question. Are you absolutely sure the maniac isn’t you? Don’t get offended just yet, let’s take a little test.
Have you ever:
—Studied a chain of profiles “just out of curiosity”: ex → his new girlfriend → her brother → brother’s fitness trainer?
—Cross-referenced a friend’s vacation stories with a map to check if they’re really where they say they are?
—Compiled a psychological profile of a new colleague after meticulously studying their likes under other people’s photos?
If you answered “yes” to at least one question, you can’t be called a simple social media user. You’re more of an amateur detective, and there’s nothing wrong with that. What’s scary is this: while you’re studying other people’s playlists, your profile could just as easily be read by Hannibal Lecter, who has his own plans for dinner. If you forget in five minutes that you found a photo of your ex with his new girlfriend on her mom’s page, a professional collector of other people’s lives has already entered that data into his database.
Well, there’s only one antidote to a systematic approach—systematic analysis. Let’s learn to distinguish a harmless weirdo from a potential maniac.
A Catalog of Digital Red Flags
Red Flag №1: The Curator of Your Soul
You post a story from breakfast at a cozy cafe, and your virtual acquaintance immediately asks where this place is because “the interior looks familiar.” He analyzes your jokes about family: “I see you have complicated relationships.” His interest in your life is thorough, methodical, with a hint of eternal storage.
His comments are no longer about you, but about the context of you. Instead of saying: “great photo,” a potential maniac will inquire: “interesting, is that the same park you were in last Tuesday?” Instead of a neutral comment: “funny dog,” the lunatic will write: “judging by the breed, you live in a private house?”
It creates a feeling that for such a person, you are a future exhibit, labeled with a tag that reads “Victim No. 7. Period of ill-conceived hopes and a bad haircut.”
Red Flag №2: The Weeping Angel
Typically, the profile of a potential maniac resembles a black-and-white gallery of suffering in the style of “Vkontakte, 2012.” His mournful gaze on the avatar is directed into the void of your feed. He publishes quotes about betrayal and depressing songs. And he always has enemies: exes, colleagues, “toxic people” whom he regularly denounces, leaving enough clues for their identification.
At first, this evokes sympathy, but soon you realize: in his black-and-white world, there are only two roles—the victim (himself) and the tyrant (everyone else, including the kitten who once refused his petting). And if you one day fail to support another complaint from such a character, you will instantly join the list of enemies.
Red Flag №3: The Faceless One
This subject has no face. Or rather, it is deliberately erased: a dark silhouette, a film still, a hypnotic pattern. His content consists of quoting serial killers, posts about “the futility of existence,” photos of abandoned buildings, and psychedelic graphics. He might write to you at 3:04 AM because “this is the time when the veil between worlds thins.” His profile resembles a vacuum that craves to be filled with your attention. He plays the game “understand me if you dare,” where the rules are written as they go. His mystical aura proclaims: “I know things you are afraid to even think about.”
The presence of any one of these signs alone does not mean you are dealing with a maniac. But if you see a persistent combination, it’s a reason to start acting. Remember: normal human strangeness is chaotic, but dangerous strangeness is always systematic.
From Theory to Practice: The Anti-Maniac Arsenal
If you suspect that a dangerous subject is hiding behind an eccentric shell—it’s time to stop being a spectator. From this moment, you take the script into your own hands, and the faceless individual gets the role you assign him. The action plan is before you.
The “Bland Oatmeal Cookie” Tactic
Become the embodiment of digital nothingness. Your messages should make the strange acquaintance want to reread the toaster manual, because it contains more passion.
Reply to his line: “I see you in my dreams” like a robot from the 80s: “Beep-boop, weather is normal. Over and out.” React to a multi-line confession with a voice message saying “Cool” and imitate chewing sounds. In response to a threat, send three photos in a row: a power socket, a store receipt, and a heating chart.
A potential maniac feeds on your emotions: fear, interest, even indignation. Put him on an informational diet that will dry out his soul.
The “Info-Kamikaze” Tactic
After enjoying the spectacle of the online maniac suffering from lack of information, take pity and feed him digital junk. In response to a strange message: “The sunset is conducive to abductions,” bombard him with spam. Send 10 links to discounts from the nearest supermarket, a video “how to lay tiles properly,” or ask him to evaluate photos of a tree from 20 different angles.
The “Decoy Bait” Tactic
If you’re ready to act radically, offer the brazen subject a new pseudo-victim. Create a fake account. Let it be “SweetEvening45, 45 years old, enjoys knitting and reptilian conspiracy theories.” Expose the fake page to the attack. Make the potential maniac start hunting for it and work in vain.
Mirror Tactics
This is the highest piloting skill. Before making a stylish exit, you must instill a vague anxiety in the possible maniac for the next few years.
Start compiling a dossier on him: “Hi. I see you were at the corner coffee shop yesterday. The coffee there is bad. And your shoelaces are untied. I’m watching. For your own safety, of course.”
Live up to the failed maniac’s expectations and become the tyrant: “You’re right, I’m a terrible person. I just mentally made your houseplant wither.”
Break the mystical schizophrenia with your absurdity. In response to his message that “at 3:04 the BoUnDaRy BeTwEeN wOrLdS fAdEs,” reply that at 3:05 the boundary between ketchup and mayonnaise in your fridge fades. That’s scarier.
How to Slam the Door to Hell
Let’s be honest: in 99% of cases, behind the mask of a creepy internet maniac is just an ordinary weirdo with a keyboard. Our task is to identify the one who hunts, who never expects the victim to be smarter, bolder, crazier, and to become his worst nightmare.
Write to such a character: “You’re next. Get ready.” We, of course, mean the “blacklist,” but let the potential maniac guess what you have in mind. Then turn on the soundtrack from “Saw” and block him with fanfare.
Don’t forget that in the social media jungle, it’s better to be a predator yourself. Or at least that inedible possum that plays dead so convincingly that everyone steers clear.
The atomic fortress has fallen. And our hair stands on end!
Thank you!
