ORDER AT THE CAPYBARA CAFE AND WE'LL DIAGNOSE YOUR TOXIC TRAIT

The playable version needs JavaScript. Here is the whole quiz as plain text — 7 questions and 4 possible verdicts.

1. Question 1. Pick a drink.

   • matcha. always matcha. you have notes.
   • oat flat white. three of them. it's 4pm.
   • chamomile. you're "off caffeine." it's been two days.
   • cold brew. straight. judging the menu.

2. Question 2. Pick a pastry.

   • a single ginger cookie. for the bit.
   • a chaotic croissant. crumbs everywhere.
   • nothing. you said you'd "just have coffee."
   • the most expensive item, to evaluate it.

3. Question 3. Pick your seat.

   • window. soft natural light. for your face.
   • middle of the room. you want to be seen.
   • corner. back to the door. facing your phone.
   • counter. so you can watch the staff.

4. Question 4. Pick a table neighbor.

   • a quiet capybara, reading.
   • two people laughing too loud, mid-story.
   • nobody. and if someone sits down, you leave.
   • a couple. you can hear the whole argument.

5. Question 5. How do you handle the bill?

   • pay first. quietly. before anyone notices.
   • split it. with a long, very specific story.
   • venmo it. three weeks later. with no message.
   • pay. tip. correct the math on the receipt.

6. Question 6. Pick what's in your bag.

   • a paperback. unrelated to the cafe. for vibes.
   • snacks. headphones. an emergency snack.
   • nothing visible. one small wallet. a key.
   • a laptop. and a strong opinion about everyone else's laptop.

7. Question 7. Pick the capybara at the next table.

   • the one in soft afternoon light, reading the menu like a novel.
   • the one chewing through everything on the table.
   • the one already leaving.
   • the one staring at the staff like they're being graded.

The verdicts

• The Aesthete — You don't have opinions. You have *vibes*. You curate. You choose the cafe based on the light. You order the matcha because it photographs better. You once spent an entire dinner subtly fixing other people's plates. People love you. They also know not to ask what you think of their apartment.
• The Yapper — You have never said one thing when you could say nine. You make everything a bit. Nothing is a bit. You narrate your own life like there's a documentary crew, and there isn't, but if there were, you'd be ready. People love you. They also schedule meetings *before* lunch with you.
• The Ghoster — You see the message. You plan the reply. You do not send it. Three weeks pass. You then send a meme with no context. Everyone forgives you because the meme is good and you are mysterious and unbothered. This is going to catch up with you eventually but it has not caught up with you yet.
• The Critic — You notice things. The lighting. The choice of cup. The way the staff spelled the special. You are not mean — you just have *standards*, and the world is not really keeping up, is it. People bring you with them because you make every outing better. They also stop telling you about restaurants they love.