Wednesday, June 24, 2026

BrownOS, AI, and the Future of Challenge Solving

 

If you're a serious CTF player or challenge solver, you've probably heard of BrownOS.

For years, it carried a reputation as one of the hardest challenges on WeChall. Minimal documentation, a maximum difficulty rating of 10, and a solve count so low that many players took one look at it and decided their time was better spent elsewhere.

I was one of them.

BrownOS sat in my "I'll do it when I have infinite free time" bucket for years. It belonged to that category of challenge that experienced players respect from a distance. The kind of challenge that quietly accumulates mythology because almost nobody finishes it.

Then, recently, I decided to stop postponing it.

Not because I suddenly found infinite free time.

Quite the opposite. I wanted to answer a different question.

Over the last few years, I have spent a significant amount of time experimenting with AI systems. Like many people in cybersecurity, I've watched the conversation swing between two extremes.

One side claims AI is overhyped. The other claims AI will replace everyone.
Both positions struck me as unsatisfying.

The interesting question isn't whether AI is magical or useless.

The interesting question is what happens when highly capable humans begin working alongside increasingly capable machines.

BrownOS turned out to be an ideal test case.

Solving a Challenge from Another Era

When BrownOS was created, the modern AI ecosystem simply did not exist.

There was no ChatGPT. No Claude. No Gemini. No Grok.

No workflow where a single researcher could simultaneously interact with multiple reasoning systems, generate tooling on demand, rapidly prototype ideas, and explore unfamiliar technical territory with machine assistance.

The pioneers who solved BrownOS operated under a completely different set of constraints.

They had debuggers, documentation. A lot of patience.
And a willingness to spend an enormous amount of time banging their heads against difficult problems.

My workflow looked very different.

I approached the challenge with a collection of LLMs, custom tooling, and a willingness to treat the entire solve as an experiment.

What surprised me wasn't that the models were useful. That part was obvious.

What surprised me was how useful they were.

Tasks that previously would have consumed a full day frequently collapsed into hours.

The models helped explain obscure concepts, generate tooling, review approaches, challenge assumptions, and accelerate iteration.

In many cases they behaved like tireless research assistants.

Not brilliant researchers. Not autonomous problem solvers.

Research assistants.

Fast, tireless, occasionally insightful, occasionally wrong, and always available.

The productivity gains were impossible to ignore.

What AI Actually Changed

One mistake I frequently see in discussions about AI is that people focus on outcomes instead of workflows.

The question is usually framed as: "Can AI solve the challenge?"
That is increasingly the wrong question.

A better question is: "How does AI change the process of solving the challenge?"

BrownOS provided a useful answer.

The models did not simply hand me the solution.
They did not replace the need for technical expertise.
They did not eliminate the need for persistence.

What they changed was the cost of exploration.

Ideas became cheaper. Experiments became cheaper.
Dead ends became cheaper. Investigation became cheaper.

The challenge itself remained difficult.

But the cost of attacking the challenge dropped significantly.

That distinction matters.

Cybersecurity is not becoming easier.
The economics of cybersecurity are changing.

Where AI Helped, And Where It Didn't

One of the more interesting observations was where the models succeeded and where they struggled.

They excelled at mechanical acceleration: tool generation, rapid implementation, exploration of alternatives, documentation, code review, knowledge retrieval.

The areas where progress slowed were different.

The final breakthrough did not emerge because the models generated more code.

It emerged because the problem itself was reframed.

The solution required stepping back from the current line of attack and viewing the underlying structure differently.

Perhaps future models will become significantly better at that.
Perhaps they won't.

Predicting AI capability even two years into the future has become a dangerous game.

What matters is what happened during this particular solve.

AI dramatically accelerated the journey.

The decisive breakthrough still came from changing the perspective from which the problem was viewed.

The Bottleneck Is Moving

This is the observation I keep returning to.

The bottleneck is moving.

Historically, a significant portion of technical work involved translating ideas into implementation: writing code, building tools, performing repetitive analysis, executing investigations.

Machines are becoming increasingly capable of assisting with those activities.

As a result, the scarce resource is shifting.

Less time is spent producing artifacts.
More time is spent deciding what should be produced.

Less time is spent executing.
More time is spent directing.

Less time is spent writing code.
More time is spent deciding where to look.

This is not unique to cybersecurity.

It is happening across many technical disciplines simultaneously.

An Interesting Coincidence

After a few weeks of struggle, I finally became the fifth BrownOS solver.
That achievement was satisfying.

But something else caught my attention.

For twelve years, BrownOS had accumulated only four solvers.

Then additional solves began appearing.

One data point proves nothing.

A handful of solves proves very little.

Still, it raises an interesting question: How many challenges that once required months of effort from a small group of specialists become accessible when every capable practitioner gains access to machine-scale assistance?

We are only beginning to find out.

BrownOS as a Time Capsule

In retrospect, BrownOS felt less like a challenge and more like a time capsule.

It was designed for a world that no longer exists.

A world where every difficult step required direct human effort.
A world before modern reasoning systems.
A world before AI-assisted research workflows.

And yet the challenge remains valuable because it allows us to compare those two eras directly.

The challenge didn't change.

The solvers did.
The tools did.
The workflow did.
The economics did.

That makes BrownOS more than just a difficult puzzle.

It becomes a lens through which we can observe a broader transition taking place across the industry.

Final Thoughts

The interesting question is no longer whether AI can help solve hard challenges.

It can.

The interesting question is what challenge solving looks like when every serious player has access to a small army of machine reasoning systems.

We are still early enough that nobody knows the answer.

What I do know is this:

BrownOS was designed for a different era.

Solving it with a workflow from the future was almost as interesting as the solve itself.


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Friday, May 15, 2026

Some Challenges Take A Few Hours To Solve. Others Take 15 Years To Finally Put To Rest.


If you are a seasoned CTF player or an old-school challenger, you might remember the golden era of IRC.
Back in 2011, a bunch of us were hanging out on irc.idlemonkeys.net, solving wargames and collaborating.
To make the time more entertaining, a few guys started writing IRC bots for blackjack, hangman, and even Idle RPGs.

But Gizmore (the founder of WeChall) and I thought we could push the limits of IRC further.
We built richer, more fully-featured RPGs.

I created bbq RPG, and Gizmore created Shadowlamb.
While mine eventually faded, Shadowlamb survived the test of time, kept alive entirely by Gizmore's incredible dedication.

Shadowlamb is a text-based, Shadowrun-flavored universe living entirely inside an IRC channel.
You interact with a bot named Lamb3 to grind nuyen (the in-game currency), level up stats (strength, quickness, magic), fight monsters, and run quests across cyberpunk cities like Redmond, Seattle, and Chicago.

But here is the twist: Gizmore embedded 4 CTF challenges inside the game (with increasing difficulties).
To capture the flags, you had to actually play the RPG and use your infosec skills to reverse and exploit the game mechanics.

Back then, I only played casually for fun. I never managed to beat the challenges.
But recently, much like closing out other two-decade-old wargames I've been revisiting, I decided it was time to settle the score.

I was going to beat Shadowlamb.

But as a lazy elite, I wasn't about to grind it manually.
I was going to build an AI-assisted bot to play it for me.

---

PHASE 1: THE PROTOTYPE

It started as a quick-and-dirty script.
It logged into IRC, listened to Lamb3’s NOTICE messages, and blindly spammed #attack on a loop.

It worked, mostly.
My character died - a lot.

But brute force was enough to scrape past Chapter I.

---

PHASE 2: THE ARCHITECTURE

This was when I put more efforts into the bot. The script evolved into a robust, modular Python system.

I built a proper autonomous agent:

- State Management: Tracked full game state in memory (HP, MP, karma, nuyen, weight capacity, busy timers).

- Combat AI: Added tactical logic for handling complex mob encounters.

- Smart Equipment: Wrote a gear-scoring algorithm that dynamically parsed #cmp stats to evaluate and equip the best loot.

- Economy Routing: Built a heuristic pathfinder to automatically travel to the nearest blacksmith to offload junk when overweight.

- Remote Command: Set up an admin relay channel so I could remote-control the bot from a different IRC nick while it was running.

By the time the bot reached Chicago, the game had become a nightmare.
The mobs were brutal, the travel times were agonizing even with top-tier gear, and inventory weight limits were a constant bottleneck.

But the architecture held up. The bot optimized the grind, survived the nightmare, and helped me capture the final flag.

To date, only 34 people in the world have managed to beat the final Shadowlamb chapter.

To me, writing this bot was more than just ticking a box on a CTF platform.
It was a perfect collision of nostalgia and modern engineering.

We used to grind these games manually, typing until our fingers went numb.
Today, we can architect modular, AI-assisted agents to conquer them for us.

The game hasn't changed, but as tech professionals, our tools and mindsets have.

Sometimes, the best way to solve a 15-year-old problem is to build a modern machine to do it for you.

The IRC servers are still spinning, and Lamb3 is still waiting for new runners.

If you want to test your coding and automation chops, fire up your IRC client, head over to WeChall, and give Shadowlamb a try.
It’s a masterclass in retro game mechanics and backend logic.

---

Also visit: https://quangntenemy.substack.com/p/some-challenges-take-a-few-hours

Sunday, May 3, 2026

The Joy of Solving Without Guidance

Many security professionals today know CTFs.

They've trained on platforms like picoCTF, Hack The Box, and TryHackMe - environments designed to be structured, accessible, and efficient. And that's not a bad thing. CTFs lowered the barrier to entry, made learning measurable, and helped people build real skills quickly.

But before all of that, there was a different kind of training ground.

Scattered across the internet were what people loosely called “hacker games”, “wargames”, or simply “challenges”. Sites like OverTheWire, HackThisSite, and aggregators like WeChall. They weren't polished, and they weren't trying to teach you step by step. You would open a challenge and feel slightly lost. Sometimes there were instructions, sometimes not. Sometimes the difficulty made sense, sometimes it didn't.

You were expected to figure it out anyway.

Progress in those environments felt different. There was no steady stream of feedback telling you that you were on the right track. You could spend hours going in the wrong direction without realizing it. And then, suddenly, something would click - a small detail, a strange behavior, a connection you hadn't seen before. The solution would unfold not because you followed a path, but because you built one.

Yes, there was validation. A password. A level cleared. But the real reward came a moment earlier, when things finally made sense.

That feeling is hard to replicate.

Modern CTFs changed the experience. Problems are categorized, difficulty is more predictable, and feedback is almost immediate. You learn to recognize patterns, apply known techniques, and move quickly. Over time, you become efficient. You know what to look for.

But that efficiency comes with a subtle trade-off.

You begin to expect clarity. You expect problems to be well-formed, solvable within a framework, and responsive to your actions. And in real systems, that's rarely the case. Things break in unexpected ways. Information is incomplete. Sometimes the hardest part isn't solving the problem - it's understanding what the problem even is.

That's where those older environments still matter.

They force you to slow down. To explore without direction. To keep going when nothing seems to work. They don't just test what you know - they test how you think when what you know isn't enough.

CTFs made us faster. There's no doubt about that.

But those early hacker games trained something else entirely. The ability to sit with uncertainty, to keep pulling at threads, and to trust that understanding can be built even when there's no obvious path forward.

If you've never experienced that, it's worth trying.

Not as a replacement for modern platforms, but as a complement to them.

Because in the end, speed helps you solve problems.

But depth helps you face the ones that don't even look like problems yet.

---

Also visit: https://quangntenemy.substack.com/p/the-joy-of-solving-without-guidance

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Monday, April 20, 2026

A World Where Human Is the Suspected Creature



It always starts the same way.

You open a page. Maybe your email, maybe social media, maybe just trying to check something quickly.

And before you can proceed, you're stopped.

Not by complexity. Not by logic. But by suspicion.

"Verify that you are human."

Click the box. Select all images with traffic lights. Solve the puzzle. Prove your existence.

And for a brief second, something feels... inverted.

Because once, machines were the ones being tested.

---

There was a time when computers struggled to imitate us.

That was the whole point of the Turing Test: to see if a machine could pass as human.

Now the test has quietly flipped. The burden has shifted. We are the ones being interrogated, filtered, measured against patterns of behavior that define "humanness".

Not consciousness. Not intention. Just patterns.

Move your mouse too smoothly? Suspicious.

Type too fast? Suspicious.

Solve a problem too efficiently? Suspicious.

You begin to realize: the system isn't asking *who you are*.

It's asking whether you behave like the average.

---

And that's where things get uncomfortable.

Because the more skilled, focused, or unconventional you are, the more you deviate from that average.

And deviation, in a system built on statistical trust, starts to look like anomaly. An anomaly starts to look like a threat.

In other words: the more human you become - curious, efficient, unpredictable - the less "human" you appear to the system.

---

This is not just about CAPTCHA boxes.

It's about a quiet philosophical shift in how identity is defined in a digital world.

You are no longer recognized by your thoughts, your intent, or even your consciousness.

You are recognized by your *compliance with expected behavior*.

Humanity, reduced to a behavioral fingerprint.

And anything outside that fingerprint - no matter how authentic - becomes suspect.

---

There's a strange irony here.

We built machines to mimic us. Then we built systems to detect those machines.

And in doing so, we defined ourselves so narrowly that we started failing our own definitions.

The machine doesn't need to become human anymore.

It just needs to stay within the acceptable range.

---

So every time you click "I am not a robot", pause for a second.

Not because it's annoying. Not because it's trivial.

But because, in that moment, you are participating in a quiet ritual: proving your existence to a system that no longer trusts it by default.

A world where humans are the suspected creatures doesn't arrive with a bang.

It arrives with a checkbox.

Also visit: https://quangntenemy.substack.com/ for more interesting thoughts on IT world, cybersecurity and future of AI


Saturday, April 4, 2026

From ASM-Hater to Digital Archaeologist: How AI turned a 20-year-old assembly nightmare into a precision strike

I’ll be honest: I used to hate crackmes! A lot!

For years, the thought of diving into low-level Assembly (ASM) felt like a chore. Staring at dense hex dumps, manually tracking registers, and fighting through obfuscated logic was a "grind" I just didn't have the patience for. It felt more like a battle of attrition than a puzzle. If you’ve ever felt like you were looking at the world through a keyhole - one byte at a time - you know exactly what I mean.

But recently, that changed.

I decided to revisit a “cold case” - a Z80 assembly challenge from 2006 on TheBlackSheep. This thing had been sitting on a dusty shelf of the internet for nearly two decades, a tough challenge that had mocked researchers and frustrated players for years.

Back in 2006, the manual labor required to crack this was a nightmare. But today, the game has changed.