标签：#AI

I've been tuning Codenames AI , a small web game where an LLM plays Codenames with you. Clue generation is tightly constrained: one word, a count, optional intended targets, JSON on the wire, then deterministic validation before anything reaches the board. As the project started attracting regular players, I wanted to improve the gameplay experience without blowing out costs. Moving one model generation from gpt-4o-mini to gpt-5-mini was my first instinct. The default reasoning setting made responses an order of magnitude slower for this workload. Minimal reasoning looked like the obvious compromise: newer model, responsive gameplay. I expected to compare clue quality, latency, and cost while the surrounding prompt, validator, and consumer contracts stayed put. That last part was wrong. The experiment stopped behaving like an A/B test What showed up was structural, and it showed up in places that had been stable for months. Validation failures started rising. Retries started rising. Entire candidate batches started failing before the game ever saw a clue. The sharpest signal came from a clue-selection path that had run untouched for months, and it hard-failed for the first time. They weren't latency regressions so much as architectural ones. It is easy to read that as "minimal reasoning made the model worse." More often, the failures were exposing gaps in contracts that had looked fine under the previous model. What each failure actually invalidated Eventually every failure traced back to one of three layers: Prompt contracts ask for exactly count targets and, in batch mode, several distinct candidates. Deterministic validators reject target/count mismatches and filter invalid candidates before anything downstream runs. Downstream consumers only see survivors. Empty batches retry with rejection feedback, then fall back if needed. Those layers share one job: enforce the same invariants. The failures below cut across all three rather than mapping one to one. Side comm

How Bifrost Enterprise combines Data Access Control (DAC), Role Based Access Control (RBAC), Access Profiles, and Bifrost Edge to secure AI applications at scale. Artificial intelligence is quickly becoming part of every employee's workflow. Developers rely on coding assistants, customer support teams use AI powered chat applications, analysts generate reports with large language models, and organisations increasingly deploy AI agents connected to internal tools through the Model Context Protocol (MCP). While this rapid adoption improves productivity, it also introduces a significant governance challenge. It's no longer enough to decide who can log into an AI platform; you must also determine who can access specific AI resources, which models they can use, what they can spend, and which data they should even be able to see. This is where Bifrost Enterprise provides a comprehensive governance layer. By combining Role Based Access Control (RBAC), Data Access Control (DAC) , Access Profiles , and Bifrost Edge , organisations can secure AI workloads without slowing down innovation. Together, these capabilities create a governance framework that scales from small engineering teams to global enterprises and you can learn more about this in the documentation on GitHub . Why Enterprise AI Needs More Than Authentication Traditional enterprise applications typically answer two questions: Who is the user? What can that user do? Modern AI platforms introduce a third and equally important question: What information should this user actually be able to see? Imagine an organisation with several engineering teams working on independent AI products. Each team has its own prompts, routing rules, API budgets, virtual keys, observability data, and model configurations. If every developer can view every configuration simply because they have developer permissions, sensitive information can easily become exposed. This challenge becomes even more complicated when organisations begin deplo

I've been using Claude for a long time and mostly ignored Artifacts. Fine for a quick React demo. Not something I reached for. Then I needed to send an analysis to a few people at work, and it clicked. Or I'm just using it in a way nobody intended. Hard to say. The actual case I own the paywall backend at a Czech media house. The subscription offer on our news site is embedded as an iframe, and iframes are a bad neighbourhood: context isolation means the iframe has no access to the parent page's session, so user identity kept breaking and we kept patching it over postMessage. Every iframe is its own page view, so GA4 data was skewed and we had to build server-side tracking and session stitching to make the numbers mean anything. And ad blockers, CSP, and timeouts mean sometimes the thing just doesn't render, so we maintain a fallback UI in parallel. I wanted to propose we drop the iframe and ship a JS embed library instead, distributed through our internal npm registry. That's an architecture change, so it needs a document: what we fixed, why the iframe is still structurally wrong, what the alternative costs, what the numbers say. The numbers part came out of the same agent session, by the way. GA4 said roughly 0.14% of paywalled page views hit an error, about half of them iframe-blocked-by-browser. That's every 700th reader. Small number, real money. The boring problem You get a good answer out of the model. Now what? You paste it into a doc. Reformat it, because chat markdown does not survive the trip. Fix the tables. Decide whether it goes in Confluence or an email. Send it. Then someone asks a follow-up, you go back to the model, get a better answer, and now there are two versions of the truth and one of them is in someone's inbox. I've done the email version of exactly this document before. Outlook ate the markdown. I ended up hand-rolling plain text with unicode bullets and uppercase section headers like it was 1998. Half of that work is transport, not thinkin

Why giant AGENTS.md files may be wasting context, hurting maintainability, and making AI-assisted development harder to scale. A few years ago, for many developers, using AI for software development meant copying a small piece of code into a chat window. We would ask for a refactoring, copy the response back into the editor, run the tests ourselves, and return to the chat when something failed. Coding agents changed that workflow. Tools such as Codex, Claude Code, and others can now explore an entire repository, modify multiple files, execute commands, run tests, and iterate on failures. Coding agents turned code assistants into tools capable of executing multi-step software development tasks. But most repositories were not designed for this new kind of contributor. The repository became part of the agent's working context A coding agent needs much more than source code. It may need to understand: the project architecture; dependency boundaries; coding conventions; test strategy; build commands; local environment requirements; validation steps; security restrictions; the definition of done. A common solution is to place these instructions inside files such as AGENTS.md , CLAUDE.md , or other agent-specific configuration files. This works. I have been doing something similar in my own projects for a while. But as the repository grows, the instruction file grows with it. Eventually, a single file may contain thousands of lines covering unrelated concerns: Architecture Testing Environment setup Coding standards Infrastructure UI conventions Validation Release workflows Definition of done At that point, the file is no longer just a set of agent instructions. It has become an informal repository operating manual. The monolithic context problem A large AGENTS.md has an obvious advantage: the agent knows where to find it. But it also creates several problems. It is difficult for humans to navigate These files are not only for agents. Developers also need to read, review, m

TL;DR I checked 50 AI-generated login endpoints. Zero had rate limiting. Attackers can brute-force credentials at full speed against these routes. Adding a rate limiter takes four lines and one npm install. I asked Cursor to build a login route for a side project last month. Email, password, JWT back on success. It worked first try, passed my manual tests, and I moved on to the next feature. Three weeks later I ran a load test against it out of curiosity and hit the endpoint two thousand times in under a minute. Not one request got throttled. That's when I started pulling apart every AI-generated auth route I could find, mine and other people's open source side projects, and the pattern held everywhere I looked. The models write correct authentication logic and completely skip rate limiting, because rate limiting isn't part of "does this login work," it's part of "does this login survive contact with an attacker." The vulnerable code (CWE-307) Here's roughly what Cursor and Claude Code hand you when you ask for a login route: // ❌ No rate limiting - CWE-307: Improper Restriction of Excessive Authentication Attempts app . post ( ' /api/login ' , async ( req , res ) => { const { email , password } = req . body ; const user = await User . findOne ({ email }); if ( ! user || ! ( await bcrypt . compare ( password , user . passwordHash ))) { return res . status ( 401 ). json ({ error : ' Invalid credentials ' }); } const token = jwt . sign ({ id : user . id }, process . env . JWT_SECRET , { expiresIn : ' 1h ' }); res . json ({ token }); }); Password hashing is fine. JWT signing is fine. But nothing stops a script from hitting this route as fast as the network allows. No lockout, no delay, no cap on attempts per IP or per account. A credential-stuffing list with ten thousand leaked passwords runs against this endpoint in seconds. Why this keeps happening Rate limiting lives outside the function the model was asked to write. The prompt is "build a login endpoint," and it re

Patreon is strengthening its defenses against AI scraping by working with Cloudflare to block bots that train AI models on creators’ content without permission. The move marks a shift away from relying on websites using robots.txt alone to actively block unauthorized AI training.

a local, Claude-powered brain-assistant for solopreneurs I kept losing good ideas — not because I forgot to write them down, but because nothing ever went back and connected them. A task on Monday, an idea on Wednesday that was secretly the same problem, a question on Friday that contradicted something I'd decided two weeks earlier. All of it just... sat there. So I built Dot Connector : a small local app where every capture is a "dot," and every few captures, Claude reviews the stream against a standing memory and surfaces three things — non-obvious connections between notes, contradictions with what you said before, and open loops you haven't closed yet. The architecture is deliberately simple. It's Express + vanilla JS, no build step, no account system. Every capture gets a cheap, fast Claude call for auto-tagging. Every 3rd capture triggers a deeper "sweep" — a second Claude call that looks at recent captures alongside standing memory and open loops, and returns structured updates: new memory facts, dot-connects, contradictions, and open-loop resolutions. Why local-first. no server of my own, notes never leave your machine except the direct calls to Anthropic's API, bring-your-own API key so there's no subscription — you pay Anthropic directly, typically well under $1/month for personal use.] Its just a steal one-time $29 download All info and download get it here: https://dot-connector.eu

It’s not just you: AI startups are taking in a huge amount of seed funding, and in the process making things harder for anyone looking for funding even at a pre-seed stage. We’ve covered the trend in detail, and at this year’s TechCrunch Disrupt event, we want to help pre-seed founders now being held to seed-stage […]

Xbox is currently in a "reset" period that includes laying off around 3,200 employees over the next year, involving deep cuts at beloved studios like id Software and Obsidian Entertainment. Now, in an attempt to show that things are still running fine, the company has announced a slate of upcoming projects at Bethesda Game Studios […]

Ben O'Mahony discusses building custom AI-powered Language Server Protocols (LSPs) that go beyond standard rule-based checkers. He explains how to instrument AI agents natively with OpenTelemetry to track concrete user actions (accepting, dismissing, or regenerating code fixes) as implicit labels, creating a continuous data flywheel to distill frontier capabilities into cheaper, local SLMs. By Ben O'Mahony

Introduction A Continuation of Shadow SCADA Terminal Velocity begins where Shadow SCADA left off — at the edge where digital audits meet the physical world. In the previous article, we explored how hidden infrastructures reveal themselves through aerial recon, magnetic anomalies, and environmental signals. Now we move deeper: into the physics of sensing, the light‑based pathways of diodes and photodiodes, and the high‑spec tools that transform invisible signals into readable intelligence. Modern audits are no longer limited to dashboards and logs. They extend into light, magnetic fields, environmental distortions, and sensor‑level truth — domains that traditional processes never touch. Section 1 – Diodes and Photodiodes: The First Gate of Physical Signals In modern audits, everything starts at the physical layer — where electricity and light move before any software or dashboard exists. Two tiny components sit at that gate: diodes and photodiodes. They look similar, but they do very different jobs. What is a diode? · One‑way valve for electricity: A diode lets electric current pass in one direction only, like a one‑way street. · Why this matters for security: Diodes are used to make sure information can leave a system but cannot come back in through the same path (for example, in SCADA or critical networks). · Simple image: Think of a diode as a door that only opens outward. You can exit, but nobody can enter through that door. What is a photodiode? · Sensor for light: A photodiode doesn’t control current—it detects light and turns that light into an electrical signal. · Where it’s used: In cameras, light sensors, security systems, and tools that “listen” to the environment through light. · Simple image: Think of a photodiode as a tiny eye that sees light and tells the system, “Something is shining here.” The key difference (in one sentence) · Diode = controls flow. · Photodiode = senses light. Diodes are about blocking or allowing. Photodiodes are about seeing and

I run a pipeline that generates explainer articles. LLM in the middle, structured output, published in several languages. It had been running for a while and the articles looked good: clean layout, a chart, and near the top of each one a confident little box with a statistic. Something in the shape of "68% of people never change the default." A number, a source, an authoritative ring to it. Not one of those numbers had been researched. The pipeline had never looked up a single statistic in its life. It asked the model for a number and printed whatever came back. I did not find this through a clever eval. I found it while cleaning up something unrelated and actually reading the prompt. The field that forced a lie The output schema had a required field. statistic.text and statistic.source , described in the prompt as an "eye-catching stat" for the top of the article. Required. Every article had to have one. The prompt also, helpfully, told the model what to do when it did not have a real number. It said to round to a safe order of magnitude. And it said to strip the year off the source, so the article would look evergreen instead of dated. Read that back slowly. The instructions were: always produce a statistic, make up a plausible magnitude if you have to, and remove the one piece of metadata that would let anyone check it. That is not a prompt that occasionally allows a hallucination. That is a prompt that requires one, every single time the model does not happen to know a real figure. So it produced them, confidently, in every language, each wearing a real-sounding source: a named institute, an industry association, a government statistics office. None of it had been looked up when it was written. This was content people actually act on, which is exactly the category where being wrong is not a rounding error. There was a second engine doing the same thing in the chart code. The block that generated the data visualization asked the model for "actual statistics from

Hello, I'm Rijul. I'm building git-lrc, a micro AI code reviewer that runs on every commit. It's free...

How I went from toggling a single GPIO pin to deploying intelligent, low-power firmware on the edge — and the lessons that shaped me along the way. The first program I ever ran on a microcontroller did exactly one thing: it blinked an LED. No operating system. No framework. No safety net. Just my code, a register, and a clock ticking a few million times a second. When that LED finally blinked at the rate I intended — not too fast, not stuck on — I felt something I hadn't felt writing software before. On a bare-metal system, nothing happens unless you make it happen. There's no runtime quietly cleaning up after you. That mix of total control and total responsibility is what pulled me into embedded systems, and it's the same thread that eventually led me to running machine learning models on the edge. This is the story of that journey — from a single blinking pin to intelligent devices that sense, decide, and act on their own. The Bare-Metal Beginning Bare-metal firmware is where you learn what a computer actually is. When you write to a memory-mapped register to toggle a GPIO, or configure a UART peripheral one bit at a time, there's no abstraction hiding the hardware from you. You read the datasheet. You read the reference manual. You get the clock configuration wrong, and nothing works — no error message, just silence. Then you fix it, and suddenly bytes are streaming out of a pin at exactly the baud rate you configured. Most of my early growth happened writing low-level peripheral drivers — UART, SPI, I2C, GPIO, ADC — on ARM Cortex-M platforms. These are the unglamorous building blocks, but they teach you the discipline embedded work demands: Every byte and every milliwatt matters. On a resource-constrained MCU, you don't get to be careless with memory or power. Timing is a first-class citizen. An interrupt that fires 50 microseconds late can break the whole system. The hardware is always right. If your code and the oscilloscope disagree, the oscilloscope wins. Th

I sat the Claude Certified Architect exam expecting questions about model parameters, context limits, and API flags. I got something else. The exam barely tests trivia. It tests judgment: given a broken agent and four plausible fixes, which one actually addresses the root cause? The interesting part was how few ideas the whole thing rests on. The same handful of rules kept deciding the "right" answer, and they are the same rules that decide whether an agent holds up once real users touch it. Below are the twelve I kept running into, plus the four traps that look like solutions and are not. This is my own study material, derived from publicly available exam guidance. It reflects how I build, not an official Anthropic position. The twelve rules Enforce determinism in code, not in prompts If a rule has to fire every single time, it is not a job for a prompt. A prompt is a suggestion the model usually follows. "Usually" is not a guarantee. When you need a guarantee, put it in a hook, a gate, or an allowlist. Code enforces. Prose requests. Pick the cheapest fix that hits the root cause Before you build a subsystem, try the levers that cost minutes: a sharper tool description, an explicit acceptance criterion, a config change. Most "we need to build X" moments dissolve once you test the cheap fix first. Reach for the classifier only after the one-line change fails. Bad tool selection? Start with the descriptions When an agent keeps picking the wrong tool, the description is almost always the culprit, not the model. Tool descriptions are the primary signal the model uses to choose. Rewrite them to say exactly when to use the tool and when not to, before you go anywhere near few-shot examples. Over-engineering is almost always the wrong answer Narrowing scope and improving the prompt beat a new subsystem far more often than engineers expect. Every subsystem you add is one more thing to debug, monitor, and keep in sync. Complexity is a cost you pay forever, not once. A bigge

A $400 million chip-backed loan points to the next wave of AI infrastructure deals.

FCC chair has been gifted at least $63,000 worth of tickets by CBS or its parent company.

Amazon's upcoming God Of War show has hit a major snag - it's now on the hunt for a new Kratos, after an on-set injury put its current lead actor out of commission. Sons of Anarchy star Ryan Hurst was originally cast for the role in January, with Deadline reporting that four episodes of the […]

Ask ten AI developers what tools they use, and you'll probably get ten different answers. The AI ecosystem is evolving so quickly that it's easy to believe you need every new framework, model, and application to stay productive. I don't think that's true. Over the past year, I've experimented with dozens of AI tools while building products, writing technical content, managing prompt libraries, and developing AI workflows. Along the way, my stack has become surprisingly simple. It's not built around the "best" tools. It's built around the tools that work well together. Here's the AI stack I rely on in 2026 and, more importantly, why each tool has earned its place. 1. ChatGPT: My Primary Thinking Partner ChatGPT is where most of my work begins. Not because it can do everything, but because it helps me think faster. I use it for: Brainstorming ideas Structuring articles Reviewing technical concepts Exploring architectural trade-offs Refining prompts Research assistance I rarely expect the first response to be perfect. Instead, I treat it like collaborating with a knowledgeable teammate who accelerates my thinking. 2. Cursor: My AI-Powered Development Environment When it's time to write code, I move into Cursor. Its strength isn't just code generation. It's understanding the context of an entire project. Whether I'm building a FastAPI backend, integrating APIs, or refactoring an existing codebase, having AI directly inside the editor removes a huge amount of friction. The less I switch between applications, the more productive I become. In fact, one of the biggest lessons I've learned is that adding more AI tools doesn't automatically improve productivity. Sometimes it has the opposite effect. I explored this idea in The Hidden Cost of Using Too Many AI Tools , where I explain why a smaller, well-integrated stack often outperforms a collection of disconnected applications. 3. GitHub: The Source of Truth Every project eventually ends up in GitHub. Not just source code. I

A few months ago, a founder posted about the SaaS he'd just shipped — built entirely with an AI coding assistant, not a line of it typed by hand. He was proud of it, and he had every right to be. Within days of launch, someone found the API key sitting in plain sight in the client-side code. It got used to bypass the paywall, spam the backend, and write garbage into the database. The founder spent the next stretch rotating every key, moving secrets into environment variables, and locking down the API endpoints that should have been locked down before anyone ever saw the site. Nothing about that story is about the AI being bad at its job. The AI did exactly what it was asked: build a working product, fast. Nobody asked it to think about what happens when a stranger opens dev tools. In the replies, someone made a simple point: AI is a great research aid, but shipping a large application still means understanding the code — copying and pasting isn't programming. The founder didn't push back. He agreed: he'd learned it the hard way. The same story, over and over Swap the platform and the same shape of story repeats. Here's the WordPress version — three separate, ordinary launches, three separate silent failures. A site goes live and Google never finds it. Somewhere in Settings → Reading, "Discourage search engines from indexing this site" got left checked — a setting every staging environment needs and every production site must not have. Nobody notices until weeks later, when someone asks why the brand-new site isn't showing up in search at all. A debug log sits in a predictable place, readable by anyone. wp-content/debug.log collects whatever errors WordPress throws — database credentials, API keys, fragments of user data — in plain text, at a URL automated scanners check within hours of a new site going live. Turning debug mode off doesn't delete the file it already wrote. The admin username is still admin . It's the default nobody bothered to change, and it happens