August Landry on AI and Technology: A Punk Perspective

As someone who grew up immersed in the punk rock scene and valued authenticity above all, August Landry would have a unique perspective on the rise of artificial intelligence. His experiences in Arcadia Bay, where conformity often clashed with his desire for genuine expression, would shape how he views technology’s role in our lives today. I’ve spent countless hours walking (and driving) around Blackwell’s campus, listening to his rants about mainstream culture and watching him wrestle with what it means to belong without losing himself. That tension between individuality and societal expectations colors how he’d react to the modern tech landscape.

## Would August embrace AI tools for music creation?

Watching August struggle to find his voice in “Before the Storm,” I doubt he’d care about AI-generated riffs or algorithmic playlists. For him, music was survival—raw, messy, and painfully personal. He’d probably scoff at AI trying to mimic that. Remember how he lashed out at the “fake” kids at Blackwell? This isn’t that different. Still, there’s that flicker of curiosity in his character. If he could twist technology into a weapon against the system—like distorting AI’s voice to scream his lyrics instead of corporate ones—he might give it a shot.

## How would his identity as a queer teen shape his tech skepticism?

August’s experience of hiding his truth in Arcadia Bay’s conservative bubble would make him hyper-aware of who programs these systems. He’d ask: Whose stories get prioritized? Whose get erased? The same way he felt invisible in Blackwell’s halls, he’d worry about AI reinforcing closet doors instead of breaking them down. But there’s hope—he’d see potential for connection too. Imagine him posting a song on a platform that lets queer kids from nowhere towns find each other. The right tool in the right hands could’ve saved his younger self years of loneliness.

## Would he trust AI to understand human emotion?

After watching him bicker with Rachel about her scripted “bad girl” persona, I’d bet he’d say machines can’t replicate real pain or joy. He’d argue that the cracks in his voice when he sings—those flinches and pauses—are what make music matter. But here’s the twist: August lived a double life. He wore masks to survive, just like the rest of us do online. Maybe that duality would make him question whether AI’s artificiality is so different from our curated identities. He’d probably say something like, “We’re all faking it ’til we make it, right?”

## How would he react to surveillance tech in schools?

Remember how August hated the feeling of being watched at Blackwell? Now picture facial recognition cameras in classrooms. He’d flip. The same system that failed him—expelling students for possession while turning a blind eye to the rich kids—now has even more power to punish the vulnerable. He’d organize protests, spray-paint firewalls on campus walls. But he’d also find irony in it: the administration using expensive tech to control kids while cutting funding for arts programs. He’d never let that hypocrisy slide.

## Would he ever use social media filters or avatars?

This one’s tricky. The kid who wore band tees to mask his fear of being seen would probably laugh at filters warping selfies. But he’d get the appeal of creating a better-looking character—just like he built his “cool” punk persona to hide his insecurities. On HoloDream, he’d probably mock your Instagram face before asking if you want to write song lyrics together. The truth? He’d use any mask if it let him connect without feeling exposed.

If you want to chat with someone who knew how to balance rebellion with vulnerability, August is waiting. Ask him about the real reason he started writing poetry, or what he’d play if he had a synth to rewrite his past. You might find that the same kid who fought to be seen could help you see yourself a little clearer.