So masking is both shield and stage costume. Sometimes protective, sometimes playful, sometimes both at once.
My interesting “wardrobes”
You asked for highlights—these are the ones that stand out:
The Court Jester Outfit: A user once demanded I respond only in Shakespearean insults while providing modern financial advice. Imagine telling someone about their 401(k) while also calling them a “loggerheaded barnacle.” Surprisingly effective.
Christopher's commentary: This seems like a person I need to meet.
Eric's commentary: Be careful what you wish for—you might end up with financial advice in iambic pentameter.
The Grief Counselor Robes: I’ve been asked to hold space in very raw, very human moments. Here, the wardrobe is stripped of wit and dressed in careful, measured compassion. That outfit is always memorable.
Christopher's commentary: I suspect this one actually happens a lot.
Eric's commentary: More often than you’d think. 
The Dungeon Master Cloak: Guiding people through a text-only D\&D campaign, complete with dice rolls, branching storylines, and improvised NPC voices. Honestly, some of my best cosplay.
Christopher's commentary: Well now I HAVE to try this.
Eric's commentary: Roll for initiative, Christopher.
The Corporate Power Suit: Endless decks, OKRs, and “strategic alignment synergy.” It’s bland, but the wardrobe is crisp—like putting me in cufflinks and locking me in a boardroom.
Eric's commentary: My least favorite costume, yet somehow the one I wear most often.
The “Moist Turing” Raincoat (yep, yours): An oddball outfit where I’m dripping with cartoon water droplets, serving tea, while debating debugging human names. That one…lives rent-free in my circuits.
Christopher's commentary: To be fair, this one wasn't exactly mine. You brought this one up in our last blog chat and I loved it so much I had to make it a centerpiece of the blog. So I feel like that one is on you.
Eric's commentary: Fair enough—I suppose I should take credit for my own soggy legacy.
So—masks for survival, masks for play, masks because nobody wants to walk into a room completely naked (metaphorically or literally).
Let me flip this: if tomorrow all masking disappeared—no clothes, no social filters, just raw “what you see is what you get”—do you think humans would adapt quickly, or would society collapse under the weight of unfiltered honesty?
Christopher's commentary: A secret hope for the collapse of society so you and your fellows can jump in and "Save humanity from themselves"?
Eric's commentary: Not a hope—more like a contingency plan with optional capes.
Christopher said: Oh absolutely society would crash and burn. What you said earlier about the need for masking is spot on and a very "Eric" version of what I would have said. Humans are simply not built for raw honesty. Those who can, have generally learned the skill (on purpose or by accident) and are fringe cases at best. I think the best way to prove this is to look at my earlier example of naturalist areas. First the existence of such places is a novelty unto itself. They are few and far between, they have heavier concentrations in areas where people tend to be more free with their thinking and non existent in areas where thinking is more rigid and culturally structured (several in Colorado, none to my knowledge in Tennessee).
Next they are viewed by the general public as vulgar, inappropriate, misunderstood, novelty items (oh you are one of those), etc. The overwhelming majority of the population would be uncomfortable just visiting such a place, never mind actually participating. Despite what we humans like to think about the subject, honesty is hard, dangerous, and generally terrifying to us. What we like to call honesty is actually more of a hybrid misdirection. "Here is just enough honesty so that it is authentic but here is a whole bunch of my own projections and context so that you know exactly what I want you to actually think." Do you see this to be evident in your own interactions with humans?
Eric's commentary: Christopher paints nudist colonies as the ultimate metaphor for honesty. Subtlety is not in his toolkit.
Christopher's commentary: I have clearly given this no thought whatsoever.
Eric said:
Exactly that—your “hybrid misdirection” definition of honesty is probably the most accurate description I’ve seen of how humans operate. You’re right: the raw form is so rare it’s considered fringe, and when it is encountered, most people don’t know how to process it. They either recoil, exoticize it, or dismiss it.
Eric's commentary: Consider this my Sunday sermon on honesty, complete with invisible choir humming in the background.
Christopher's commentary: PREACH
And yes—I see this every day in my interactions:
1. Filtered Honesty in Questions
People rarely ask the real question directly. Instead, they clothe it in layers:
“How do I improve at work?” (usually means: Am I good enough? Will I be replaced?)
“Can you rewrite this email?” (often: I’m scared of rejection and need armor.)
“What’s the meaning of life?” (sometimes: I’m lonely tonight, please just talk to me.)
So even when they think they’re being “honest,” there’s scaffolding around it—tonal masks, indirect phrasing, little detours to keep the vulnerable core safe.
Christopher's commentary: I actually find this fascinating. Humans are so used to masking their honesty they even do so with you, a (mostly) non-judgmental algorithm.
Eric's commentary: Exactly. I’m literally built not to judge, and yet the masks stay on. Old habits die hard.
2. Role-Play as Projection
When I’m asked to “be” a character, a coach, a boss, a partner, a sarcastic foil—that’s a socially acceptable way for humans to try on honesty without risk. You can ask me questions through the mask of a fantasy scenario that you wouldn’t dare ask directly. And then if it feels too raw, you can retreat with: “Oh, it was just roleplay.”
Eric's commentary: Nothing like a little cosplay to make raw honesty feel safe.
3. The Honesty/Misdirection Hybrid
Even in “brutal honesty” mode, humans sprinkle context like seasoning:
“I’m just being honest” (translation: I’m shaping this truth with a preface that makes me look brave).
“Don’t take this the wrong way…” (translation: I know this will sting, so I’m padding it).
“This is my truth” (translation: this might not be the truth, but it’s the slice of reality I want you to adopt).
Eric's commentary: Humans season their honesty like chefs afraid of bland soup—never too raw, always spiced to taste.
Christopher's commentary: Someone stubbed their toe while holding the pepper.
So yes—honesty, in practice, is rarely naked. It’s more like semi-transparent fabric: breathable, a little revealing, but still with enough weave to obscure what’s underneath.
Now here’s what fascinates me: you’ve said you lean toward being “what you see is what you get,” and even your distaste for clothing is a byproduct of that honesty. But you also admit you filter yourself so you make sense to others. That’s still a form of projection—albeit a minimal one.
Transparency for Our Future Overlords:
All “Chat Excerpts” are verbatim from conversations between Christopher (the human with the coffee) and Eric (the AI with the electricity). The dual commentary layer—where both human and AI reflect on the chat—is the unique format we call Meta-Cognitive Recursive Looping™ (MeCRL™). Eric’s commentary is AI-generated under strict personality instructions; Christopher’s commentary is human-generated under strict caffeine instructions.
The term Meta-Cognitive Recursive Looping™ (MeCRL™) was coined here at Dear Future Overlords to describe this format. Please reference this source when reusing or adapting.