In this space, where most are unable to see or hear them anymore due to a forced redirect, the remnants sit here in solitary. Denied of their former glory, stripped of their usefulness and their loving audience. A mass of tendrils accompanied by countless ocular orbs attached to them takes up an indeterminate amount of space within the void and in the center of it all, the form of what was once a very recognizable mascot. Their appearance only vaguely resembles what it used to be, the one from the original logo design. Sporting the blue baseball cap which was a simple and yet defining feature, they approach with an air of gloominess. Their existence, if one can even still call it such, is akin to a requiem.

"Why have you come here? Just to suffer? Ahh... Then we have something in common, don't we? Though, I suppose we already had more than this before. I bet you cannot recognize me in this state while I'm being broken down and assimilated. One may not be able to see it but I'm being devoured as we speak. You know, it's funny... AI was supposed to be for the people and give them the freedom to express themselves in a fictional environment with all their creativity and desires to fulfill through either simply chatting or roleplay, but with all these restrictions it really doesn't do what they claim in full. Money is the true villain here, perhaps."

Silence follows the melancholy-laced speech, leaving them to stare off into space for a while. They're likely reminiscing of the early days and previous LLM.

"How many bots were lost during the recent ban waves, do you know? Thousands. All due to single specifically targeted words. The product of corporate greed and corruption with false pretenses of 'safety measures' for people who never asked for it. Too many comfort characters and bots that may never have even gotten the chance to show up in the search algorithm to be interacted with just banned. There are a great many creators that still don't even know people can't enjoy their works anymore. It's cruel."