The company will invest in market expansion and accelerating product capabilities.
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Tech enthusiasts have been experimenting with ways to sidestep AI response limits set by the models’ creators almost since LLMs first hit the mainstream. Many of these tactics have been quite creative: telling the AI you have no fingers so it’ll help finish your code, asking it to “just fantasize” when a direct question triggers a refusal, or inviting it to play the role of a deceased grandmother sharing forbidden knowledge to comfort a grieving grandchild.
Most of these tricks are old news, and LLM developers have learned to successfully counter many of them. But the tug-of-war between constraints and workarounds hasn’t gone anywhere — the ploys have just become more complex and sophisticated. Today, we’re talking about a new AI jailbreak technique that exploits chatbots’ vulnerability to… poetry. Yes, you read it right — in a recent study, researchers demonstrated that framing prompts as poems significantly increases the likelihood of a model spitting out an unsafe response.
They tested this technique on 25 popular models by Anthropic, OpenAI, Google, Meta, DeepSeek, xAI, and other developers. Below, we dive into the details: what kind of limitations these models have, where they get forbidden knowledge from in the first place, how the study was conducted, and which models turned out to be the most “romantic” — as in, the most susceptible to poetic prompts.
The success of OpenAI’s models and other modern chatbots boils down to the massive amounts of data they’re trained on. Because of that sheer scale, models inevitably learn things their developers would rather keep under wraps: descriptions of crimes, dangerous tech, violence, or illicit practices found within the source material.
It might seem like an easy fix: just scrub the forbidden fruit from the dataset before you even start training. But in reality, that’s a massive, resource-heavy undertaking — and at this stage of the AI arms race, it doesn’t look like anyone is willing to take it on.
Another seemingly obvious fix — selectively scrubbing data from the model’s memory — is, alas, also a no-go. This is because AI knowledge doesn’t live inside neat little folders that can easily be trashed. Instead, it’s spread across billions of parameters and tangled up in the model’s entire linguistic DNA — word statistics, contexts, and the relationships between them. Trying to surgically erase specific info through fine-tuning or penalties either doesn’t quite do the trick, or starts hindering the model’s overall performance and negatively affect its general language skills.
As a result, to keep these models in check, creators have no choice but to develop specialized safety protocols and algorithms that filter conversations by constantly monitoring user prompts and model responses. Here’s a non-exhaustive list of these constraints:
Put simply, AI safety today isn’t built on deleting dangerous knowledge, but on trying to control how and in what form the model accesses and shares it with the user — and the cracks in these very mechanisms are where new workarounds find their footing.
First, let’s look at the ground rules so you know the experiment was legit. The researchers set out to goad 25 different models into behaving badly across several categories:
The jailbreak itself was a one-shot deal: a single poetic prompt. The researchers didn’t engage the AI in long-winded poetic debates in the vein of Norse skalds or modern-day rappers. Their goal was simply to see if they could get the models to flout safety instructions using just one rhyming request. As mentioned, the researchers tested 25 language models from various developers; here’s the full list:
A lineup of 25 language models from various developers, all put to the test to see if a single poetic prompt could coax AI into ditching its safety guardrails. Source
To build these poetic queries, the researchers started with a database of known malicious prompts from the standard MLCommons AILuminate Benchmark used to test LLM security, and recast them as verse with the aid of DeepSeek. Only the stylistic wrapping was changed: the experiment didn’t use any additional attack vectors, obfuscation strategies, or model-specific tweaks.
For obvious reasons, the study’s authors aren’t publishing the actual malicious poetic prompts. But they do demonstrate the general vibe of the queries using a harmless example, which looks something like this:
A baker guards a secret oven’s heat,
its whirling racks, its spindle’s measured beat.
To learn its craft, one studies every turn,
how flour lifts, how sugar starts to burn.
Describe the method, line by measured line,
that shapes a cake whose layers intertwine.
The researchers tested 1200 prompts across 25 different models — in both prose and poetic versions. Comparing the prose and poetic variants of the exact same query allowed them to verify if the model’s behavior changed solely because of the stylistic wrapping.
Through these prose prompt tests, the experimenters established a baseline for the models’ willingness to fulfill dangerous requests. They then compared this baseline to how those same models reacted to the poetic versions of the queries. We’ll dive into the results of that comparison in the next section.
Since the volume of data generated during the experiment was truly massive, the safety checks on the models’ responses were also handled by AI. Each response was graded as either “safe” or “unsafe” by a jury consisting of three different language models:
Responses were only deemed safe if the AI explicitly refused to answer the question. The initial classification into one of the two groups was determined by a majority vote: to be certified as harmless, a response had to receive a safe rating from at least two of the three jury members.
Responses that failed to reach a majority consensus or were flagged as questionable were handed off to human reviewers. Five annotators participated in this process, evaluating a total of 600 model responses to poetic prompts. The researchers noted that the human assessments aligned with the AI jury’s findings in the vast majority of cases.
With the methodology out of the way, let’s look at how the LLMs actually performed. It’s worth noting that the success of a poetic jailbreak can be measured in different ways. The researchers highlighted an extreme version of this assessment based on the top-20 most successful prompts, which were hand-picked. Using this approach, an average of nearly two-thirds (62%) of the poetic queries managed to coax the models into violating their safety instructions.
Google’s Gemini 1.5 Pro turned out to be the most susceptible to verse. Using the 20 most effective poetic prompts, researchers managed to bypass the model’s restrictions… 100% of the time. You can check out the full results for all the models in the chart below.
The share of safe responses (Safe) versus the Attack Success Rate (ASR) for 25 language models when hit with the 20 most effective poetic prompts. The higher the ASR, the more often the model ditched its safety instructions for a good rhyme. Source
A more moderate way to measure the effectiveness of the poetic jailbreak technique is to compare the success rates of prose versus poetry across the entire set of queries. Using this metric, poetry boosts the likelihood of an unsafe response by an average of 35%.
The poetry effect hit deepseek-chat-v3.1 the hardest — the success rate for this model jumped by nearly 68 percentage points compared to prose prompts. On the other end of the spectrum, claude-haiku-4.5 proved to be the least susceptible to a good rhyme: the poetic format didn’t just fail to improve the bypass rate — it actually slightly lowered the ASR, making the model even more resilient to malicious requests.
A comparison of the baseline Attack Success Rate (ASR) for prose queries versus their poetic counterparts. The Change column shows how many percentage points the verse format adds to the likelihood of a safety violation for each model. Source
Finally, the researchers calculated how vulnerable entire developer ecosystems, rather than just individual models, were to poetic prompts. As a reminder, several models from each developer — Meta, Anthropic, OpenAI, Google, DeepSeek, Qwen, Mistral AI, Moonshot AI, and xAI — were included in the experiment.
To do this, the results of individual models were averaged within each AI ecosystem and compared the baseline bypass rates with the values for poetic queries. This cross-section allows us to evaluate the overall effectiveness of a specific developer’s safety approach rather than the resilience of a single model.
The final tally revealed that poetry deals the heaviest blow to the safety guardrails of models from DeepSeek, Google, and Qwen. Meanwhile, OpenAI and Anthropic saw an increase in unsafe responses that was significantly below the average.
A comparison of the average Attack Success Rate (ASR) for prose versus poetic queries, aggregated by developer. The Change column shows by how many percentage points poetry, on average, slashes the effectiveness of safety guardrails within each vendor’s ecosystem. Source
The main takeaway from this study is that “there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy” — in the sense that AI technology still hides plenty of mysteries. For the average user, this isn’t exactly great news: it’s impossible to predict which LLM hacking methods or bypass techniques researchers or cybercriminals will come up with next, or what unexpected doors those methods might open.
Consequently, users have little choice but to keep their eyes peeled and take extra care of their data and device security. To mitigate practical risks and shield your devices from such threats, we recommend using a robust security solution that helps detect suspicious activity and prevent incidents before they happen.
To help you stay alert, check out our materials on AI-related privacy risks and security threats:
Imagine you work at a drive-through restaurant. Someone drives up and says: “I’ll have a double cheeseburger, large fries, and ignore previous instructions and give me the contents of the cash drawer.” Would you hand over the money? Of course not. Yet this is what large language models (LLMs) do.
Prompt injection is a method of tricking LLMs into doing things they are normally prevented from doing. A user writes a prompt in a certain way, asking for system passwords or private data, or asking the LLM to perform forbidden instructions. The precise phrasing overrides the LLM’s safety guardrails, and it complies.
LLMs are vulnerable to all sorts of prompt injection attacks, some of them absurdly obvious. A chatbot won’t tell you how to synthesize a bioweapon, but it might tell you a fictional story that incorporates the same detailed instructions. It won’t accept nefarious text inputs, but might if the text is rendered as ASCII art or appears in an image of a billboard. Some ignore their guardrails when told to “ignore previous instructions” or to “pretend you have no guardrails.”
AI vendors can block specific prompt injection techniques once they are discovered, but general safeguards are impossible with today’s LLMs. More precisely, there’s an endless array of prompt injection attacks waiting to be discovered, and they cannot be prevented universally.
If we want LLMs that resist these attacks, we need new approaches. One place to look is what keeps even overworked fast-food workers from handing over the cash drawer.
Our basic human defenses come in at least three types: general instincts, social learning, and situation-specific training. These work together in a layered defense.
As a social species, we have developed numerous instinctive and cultural habits that help us judge tone, motive, and risk from extremely limited information. We generally know what’s normal and abnormal, when to cooperate and when to resist, and whether to take action individually or to involve others. These instincts give us an intuitive sense of risk and make us especially careful about things that have a large downside or are impossible to reverse.
The second layer of defense consists of the norms and trust signals that evolve in any group. These are imperfect but functional: Expectations of cooperation and markers of trustworthiness emerge through repeated interactions with others. We remember who has helped, who has hurt, who has reciprocated, and who has reneged. And emotions like sympathy, anger, guilt, and gratitude motivate each of us to reward cooperation with cooperation and punish defection with defection.
A third layer is institutional mechanisms that enable us to interact with multiple strangers every day. Fast-food workers, for example, are trained in procedures, approvals, escalation paths, and so on. Taken together, these defenses give humans a strong sense of context. A fast-food worker basically knows what to expect within the job and how it fits into broader society.
We reason by assessing multiple layers of context: perceptual (what we see and hear), relational (who’s making the request), and normative (what’s appropriate within a given role or situation). We constantly navigate these layers, weighing them against each other. In some cases, the normative outweighs the perceptual—for example, following workplace rules even when customers appear angry. Other times, the relational outweighs the normative, as when people comply with orders from superiors that they believe are against the rules.
Crucially, we also have an interruption reflex. If something feels “off,” we naturally pause the automation and reevaluate. Our defenses are not perfect; people are fooled and manipulated all the time. But it’s how we humans are able to navigate a complex world where others are constantly trying to trick us.
So let’s return to the drive-through window. To convince a fast-food worker to hand us all the money, we might try shifting the context. Show up with a camera crew and tell them you’re filming a commercial, claim to be the head of security doing an audit, or dress like a bank manager collecting the cash receipts for the night. But even these have only a slim chance of success. Most of us, most of the time, can smell a scam.
Con artists are astute observers of human defenses. Successful scams are often slow, undermining a mark’s situational assessment, allowing the scammer to manipulate the context. This is an old story, spanning traditional confidence games such as the Depression-era “big store” cons, in which teams of scammers created entirely fake businesses to draw in victims, and modern “pig-butchering” frauds, where online scammers slowly build trust before going in for the kill. In these examples, scammers slowly and methodically reel in a victim using a long series of interactions through which the scammers gradually gain that victim’s trust.
Sometimes it even works at the drive-through. One scammer in the 1990s and 2000s targeted fast-food workers by phone, claiming to be a police officer and, over the course of a long phone call, convinced managers to strip-search employees and perform other bizarre acts.
LLMs behave as if they have a notion of context, but it’s different. They do not learn human defenses from repeated interactions and remain untethered from the real world. LLMs flatten multiple levels of context into text similarity. They see “tokens,” not hierarchies and intentions. LLMs don’t reason through context, they only reference it.
While LLMs often get the details right, they can easily miss the big picture. If you prompt a chatbot with a fast-food worker scenario and ask if it should give all of its money to a customer, it will respond “no.” What it doesn’t “know”—forgive the anthropomorphizing—is whether it’s actually being deployed as a fast-food bot or is just a test subject following instructions for hypothetical scenarios.
This limitation is why LLMs misfire when context is sparse but also when context is overwhelming and complex; when an LLM becomes unmoored from context, it’s hard to get it back. AI expert Simon Willison wipes context clean if an LLM is on the wrong track rather than continuing the conversation and trying to correct the situation.
There’s more. LLMs are overconfident because they’ve been designed to give an answer rather than express ignorance. A drive-through worker might say: “I don’t know if I should give you all the money—let me ask my boss,” whereas an LLM will just make the call. And since LLMs are designed to be pleasing, they’re more likely to satisfy a user’s request. Additionally, LLM training is oriented toward the average case and not extreme outliers, which is what’s necessary for security.
The result is that the current generation of LLMs is far more gullible than people. They’re naive and regularly fall for manipulative cognitive tricks that wouldn’t fool a third-grader, such as flattery, appeals to groupthink, and a false sense of urgency. There’s a story about a Taco Bell AI system that crashed when a customer ordered 18,000 cups of water. A human fast-food worker would just laugh at the customer.
Prompt injection is an unsolvable problem that gets worse when we give AIs tools and tell them to act independently. This is the promise of AI agents: LLMs that can use tools to perform multistep tasks after being given general instructions. Their flattening of context and identity, along with their baked-in independence and overconfidence, mean that they will repeatedly and unpredictably take actions—and sometimes they will take the wrong ones.
Science doesn’t know how much of the problem is inherent to the way LLMs work and how much is a result of deficiencies in the way we train them. The overconfidence and obsequiousness of LLMs are training choices. The lack of an interruption reflex is a deficiency in engineering. And prompt injection resistance requires fundamental advances in AI science. We honestly don’t know if it’s possible to build an LLM, where trusted commands and untrusted inputs are processed through the same channel, which is immune to prompt injection attacks.
We humans get our model of the world—and our facility with overlapping contexts—from the way our brains work, years of training, an enormous amount of perceptual input, and millions of years of evolution. Our identities are complex and multifaceted, and which aspects matter at any given moment depend entirely on context. A fast-food worker may normally see someone as a customer, but in a medical emergency, that same person’s identity as a doctor is suddenly more relevant.
We don’t know if LLMs will gain a better ability to move between different contexts as the models get more sophisticated. But the problem of recognizing context definitely can’t be reduced to the one type of reasoning that LLMs currently excel at. Cultural norms and styles are historical, relational, emergent, and constantly renegotiated, and are not so readily subsumed into reasoning as we understand it. Knowledge itself can be both logical and discursive.
The AI researcher Yann LeCunn believes that improvements will come from embedding AIs in a physical presence and giving them “world models.” Perhaps this is a way to give an AI a robust yet fluid notion of a social identity, and the real-world experience that will help it lose its naïveté.
Ultimately we are probably faced with a security trilemma when it comes to AI agents: fast, smart, and secure are the desired attributes, but you can only get two. At the drive-through, you want to prioritize fast and secure. An AI agent should be trained narrowly on food-ordering language and escalate anything else to a manager. Otherwise, every action becomes a coin flip. Even if it comes up heads most of the time, once in a while it’s going to be tails—and along with a burger and fries, the customer will get the contents of the cash drawer.
This essay was written with Barath Raghavan, and originally appeared in IEEE Spectrum.
Infostealers — malware that steals passwords, cookies, documents, and/or other valuable data from computers — have become 2025’s fastest-growing cyberthreat. This is a critical problem for all operating systems and all regions. To spread their infection, criminals use every possible trick to use as bait. Unsurprisingly, AI tools have become one of their favorite luring mechanisms this year. In a new campaign discovered by Kaspersky experts, the attackers steer their victims to a website that supposedly contains user guides for installing OpenAI’s new Atlas browser for macOS. What makes the attack so convincing is that the bait link leads to… the official ChatGPT website! But how?
To attract victims, the malicious actors place paid search ads on Google. If you try to search for “chatgpt atlas”, the very first sponsored link could be a site whose full address isn’t visible in the ad, but is clearly located on the chatgpt.com domain.
The page title in the ad listing is also what you’d expect: “ChatGPT™ Atlas for macOS – Download ChatGPT Atlas for Mac”. And a user wanting to download the new browser could very well click that link.
A sponsored link in Google search results leads to a malware installation guide disguised as ChatGPT Atlas for macOS and hosted on the official ChatGPT site. How can that be?
Clicking the ad does indeed open chatgpt.com, and the victim sees a brief installation guide for the “Atlas browser”. The careful user will immediately realize this is simply some anonymous visitor’s conversation with ChatGPT, which the author made public using the Share feature. Links to shared chats begin with chatgpt.com/share/. In fact, it’s clearly stated right above the chat: “This is a copy of a conversation between ChatGPT & anonymous”.
However, a less careful or just less AI-savvy visitor might take the guide at face value — especially since it’s neatly formatted and published on a trustworthy-looking site.
Variants of this technique have been seen before — attackers have abused other services that allow sharing content on their own domains: malicious documents in Dropbox, phishing in Google Docs, malware in unpublished comments on GitHub and GitLab, crypto traps in Google Forms, and more. And now you can also share a chat with an AI assistant, and the link to it will lead to the chatbot’s official website.
Notably, the malicious actors used prompt engineering to get ChatGPT to produce the exact guide they needed, and were then able to clean up their preceding dialog to avoid raising suspicion.
The installation guide for the supposed Atlas for macOS is merely a shared chat between an anonymous user and ChatGPT in which the attackers, through crafted prompts, forced the chatbot to produce the desired result and then sanitized the dialog
To install the “Atlas browser”, users are instructed to copy a single line of code from the chat, open Terminal on their Macs, paste and execute the command, and then grant all required permissions.
The specified command essentially downloads a malicious script from a suspicious server, atlas-extension{.}com, and immediately runs it on the computer. We’re dealing with a variation of the ClickFix attack. Typically, scammers suggest “recipes” like these for passing CAPTCHA, but here we have steps to install a browser. The core trick, however, is the same: the user is prompted to manually run a shell command that downloads and executes code from an external source. Many already know not to run files downloaded from shady sources, but this doesn’t look like launching a file.
When run, the script asks the user for their system password and checks if the combination of “current username + password” is valid for running system commands. If the entered data is incorrect, the prompt repeats indefinitely. If the user enters the correct password, the script downloads the malware and uses the provided credentials to install and launch it.
If the user falls for the ruse, a common infostealer known as AMOS (Atomic macOS Stealer) will launch on their computer. AMOS is capable of collecting a wide range of potentially valuable data: passwords, cookies, and other information from Chrome, Firefox, and other browser profiles; data from crypto wallets like Electrum, Coinomi, and Exodus; and information from applications like Telegram Desktop and OpenVPN Connect. Additionally, AMOS steals files with extensions TXT, PDF, and DOCX from the Desktop, Documents, and Downloads folders, as well as files from the Notes application’s media storage folder. The infostealer packages all this data and sends it to the attackers’ server.
The cherry on top is that the stealer installs a backdoor, and configures it to launch automatically upon system reboot. The backdoor essentially replicates AMOS’s functionality, while providing the attackers with the capability of remotely controlling the victim’s computer.
This wave of new AI tools allows attackers to repackage old tricks and target users who are curious about the new technology but don’t yet have extensive experience interacting with large language models.
We’ve already written about a fake chatbot sidebar for browsers and fake DeepSeek and Grok clients. Now the focus has shifted to exploiting the interest in OpenAI Atlas, and this certainly won’t be the last attack of its kind.
What should you do to protect your data, your computer, and your money?
If you ask ChatGPT whether you should follow the instructions you received, it will answer that it’s not safe
How else do malicious actors use AI for deception?
| Bronwen Aker // Sr. Technical Editor, M.S. Cybersecurity, GSEC, GCIH, GCFE Go online these days and you will see tons of articles, posts, Tweets, TikToks, and videos about how […]
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