HACKERLAB 2023
⚡What is HackerLab?
HackerLab is Benin’s national cybersecurity competition — a high-stakes “Capture The Flag” (CTF) battleground led by the Agency for Information Systems and Digital (ASIN). Since 2017, it has become a proving ground for hackers, analysts, and defenders mastering forensics, web, crypto, reversing, stego, pwn, and beyond. It’s not just about flags — it’s about proving you belong among Benin’s elite cyber warriors.
Prizes range from certifications, high-speed internet, CEH/OSCP training, and the chance to join bjCSIRT or industry missions both local and international.
My Road to HackerLab 2023
Chapter 1: Returning to the Fire
In 2023, I was under 7h3 b15h0p, alongside the M3V7R team, as captain. We were a focused unit — tight, methodical, and hungry. I wasn’t just there to participate — I came to win, learn, and lay the groundwork for future conquests.
Qualification Mayhem
As always, the 2023 qualifiers were a whirlwind — full month of pure hacking. There’s no pacing yourself, no marathon here; just an all-out sprint from start to finish, where every second counts and there’s no room to catch your breath.
HackerLab qualifiers use a format that’s as unpredictable as it is brutal. The challenges are split into two families:
- The Basics: Classic categories — everything you’d expect, available in bulk and sometimes with surprise releases that keep you on your toes.
- The Qualification Stages: These are the wild cards. You unlock them by solving previous challenges, and every time you open one, it’s like reaching into a mystery box. You never know what you’ll pull—categories jump, difficulty spikes, and the only constant is uncertainty .
That’s what makes this event special: the chaos doesn’t just test your skills, it tests your resilience, your ability to think on your feet, and your trust in your team. For those three days, we lived and breathed CTF. There was no outside world—just a digital battlefield and the relentless tick of the clock.
Synergy was our secret weapon. Everyone zeroed in on their strengths, passing off roadblocks to teammates and pushing each other past the limits. We attacked the board with a kind of manic focus, each victory fueling the next. And as the hours bled into each other, exhaustion turned to momentum.
The result? We finished every challenge. Three days of total war, every mystery box opened, every flag captured. When the dust settled, it wasn’t luck or fate—it was the result of unbreakable coordination, relentless hustle, and a hunger that refused to quit.
Notable moments from qualifiers:
- That rush of snagging first bloods on a string of “Qualification Stages” challenges—until Heviosso finally overtook us on one. That moment sent shockwaves through our whole team. Suddenly, the pressure was real, the competition alive.
- The bizarre, almost surreal feeling when we unlocked a new “Qualification Stages” challenge… and nothing else appeared. That’s when it hit us: we’d finished. Every mystery box opened, every puzzle solved.
We ended qualifiers as the top team. That win was the sum of every late night, every argument, every plan, and every ounce of trust we’d built together. For the first time, it felt like we truly belonged at the top.
The Grand Stage: Palais des Congrès
October arrived, and suddenly it was real. We walked through the doors of the Palais des Congrès, and the scale of the finals slammed into me — the bright lights, the sea of people, the electric hum in the air. It was more than just a competition; it felt like stepping into an arena built for legends.
All around me, faces I’d only known as avatars or chat handles came to life. Rivals and allies, some I’d argued with online, others I’d quietly respected from afar — now we were all here, flesh and blood, sharing the same nervous anticipation. It hit me just how different people are in person — so much quieter, so much more focused, the bravado replaced by real tension. No more hiding behind keyboards. Every glance was loaded: challenge, curiosity, maybe even respect.
The opening ceremony felt almost surreal. Leaders from ASIN and national digital security circles took the stage, delivering their speeches. I tried to listen, but my focus had narrowed to a single point — what came next. The outside world faded. All I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears and the countdown inside my head.
We gathered for the group photo — a blur of nervous smiles and flickering camera flashes—then drew our random seats. That moment felt like a drumroll, a breath held before the plunge. There were no more distractions. No more second-guessing.
From that moment on, it was game time. All the months of preparation, the late nights, the dreams and doubts—they had brought me right here, to the heart of the storm.
Let the Final Begin
Mental and Technical Prep
We brought our arsenal—virtual machines perfectly tuned, notes stacked and battle-worn, custom scripts and aliases ready to go. Each piece of tech was sharpened and familiar, the tools of our trade set for war.
But there’s something no script can automate and no VM can clone: mindset. The finals are never just about hacking. It’s about holding the line when your eyes burn from sleepless hours, about adapting on the fly when nothing works, about keeping your emotions on a tight leash when frustration threatens to take over. Endurance isn’t optional — it’s the real battleground.
Then, I didn’t just prep my machine — I prepped my mind. I meditated before the chaos, steadying my breathing and clearing my thoughts. I prayed, hoping for focus and strength when the pressure hit hardest. I visualized not just victory, but the grind — the feeling of staring down a stubborn bug, the thrill of a flag finally dropping, the pain of falling behind, and the determination to get back up.
In those quiet moments before the storm, I reminded myself: the only thing separating contenders from champions is what you do when everything inside you wants to quit. The tools matter. But the mindset? That’s what decides who survives the finals and who falls to the chaos.
Team Strategy
Every flag we captured felt like a surgical strike — clean, precise, hard-earned. But the numbers on the scoreboard only tell half the story; what’s hidden beneath is where the real battles played out.
Looking back, our biggest mistake — and one that feels almost inevitable for newcomers—was the absence of a real strategy. We fought on instinct, believing pure skill and brute force would carry us. Solve a challenge, submit the flag, move on. That was it. At no point did we stop and ask, “Should we have a bigger plan?” And that, honestly, cost us.
We ran headfirst into teams of veterans who didn’t just play harder — they played smarter. Their strategies were honed, their moves calculated. When we went toe-to-toe with them, we learned the hard way: strategy wins wars, not just strength. That loss hurt, but like every true setback, it became our greatest lesson. Pain is a better teacher than comfort, and that defeat made us sharper for every fight that followed.
A few legends from 2023 deserve a special mention for pushing the tempo and showing us what it really takes to stand out:
R4nd_n4me: Also from Epitech. What stunned me most? They soloed every single Stegano challenge — no small feat, especially considering how tedious and unforgiving those puzzles from r3s0lv3r were. My team didn’t even scratch them, but watching R4nd_n4me work was like watching someone solve a Rubik’s cube blindfolded.
Heviosso: Not just because they finished first, but for their sheer speed. I actually got to chat with one of their members, and he admitted they were just as wary of us as we were of them. Total honesty: they were the only team we truly feared. Like us, they did math on paper mid-CTF, which isn’t common—and every time I see that, I know I’m facing a real threat.
We crossed swords with the best—some bled, some didn’t—but every one of them earned our respect. That’s the arena: you learn, you adapt, you fight on.
💥 Highlights & Challenge Set
The 2023 finals were rich—an absolute gauntlet of creativity and technical chaos. Shoutout to the creators who kept us up at night: rimd0r, 5c0r7, w1z4rd, unpasswd, r3s0lv3r (his challenges are pure puzzles—his mind works like Haskell code, if you know, you know), and so many others who masterminded wicked DFIR, crypto, and web tasks.
I still remember the feeling of locking in on the forensics-heavy side of the board—our home turf, where the puzzles felt like they were made just for us. That’s where we vibed, where we found our rhythm, and where we left our mark.
But there was more than just digital warfare this year. As usual, the organizers threw in some wild extra challenges—lockpicking, push-ups, even physical games in the middle of the cyber chaos. It was the kind of curveball you don’t see coming.
Lockpicking, especially, stood out. Only two teams managed to complete it: the challenge was to open two padlocks in under one minute—no resets, no room for error. I had never picked a lock in my life before that day. It was a rush—heart pounding, hands shaking, the room dead silent except for the ticking clock. When the lock finally popped, I felt this weird mix of disbelief and pure joy. It was the first time, but definitely not the last—after the event, I was hooked. I dove deeper, started practicing, and it’s become a whole new hobby for me. If anyone’s curious or wants to get started, I can’t recommend LockNoob’s YouTube channel enough. Whether you want to try it for yourself or just see what it’s all about, it’s a goldmine.
Our Final Standing
We went to war and left nothing behind. Every hour was a test, every challenge a new battlefield. We didn’t just show up—we pushed, clawed, and bled for every point. And when the dust finally settled, we stood at 4th place — just shy of the podium, but with our heads unbowed.
The journey was relentless. From top contenders in the qualifiers to that razor-edge finish, our progress was mid. We drew blood on most of the challenges, and on some, we were the only team to solve them at all. That’s something I’ll never forget: knowing that, at our level, we managed to outsmart the field when it mattered most.
If I’m honest, I barely took the time to admire the quality of the challenges themselves. My mind was locked on one goal — growth, evolution, and fighting our way to the top of the scoreboard. It wasn’t about glory or showing off. It was about proving to ourselves, and maybe to everyone watching, that we belonged up there with the best.
Brotherhood and Beers (Well, Water)
But while we fought like warriors, the social battlefield was a whole different story. This edition was… rough, to put it mildly. From the first minute, we felt like outsiders. Maybe it was the rivalry between the schools, or maybe it was the way we came in as underdogs with something to prove, but the rejection from other teams was palpable.
There was no warm welcome, no easy camaraderie. The tension was thick—hostile, even. Every glance from the other teams was loaded with rivalry, and if I’m being honest, there was a bitterness there that left a bad taste. Maybe we threatened the old guard, maybe we just didn’t play by their rules. But if there were black sheep in that room, it was us.
And you know what? We expected nothing, so nothing could hurt us. We didn’t come to make friends or collect stories for a scrapbook. We came to compete, to test ourselves, to raise the bar for what was possible—no distractions, no excuses. Maybe some teams came for the afterparty, but we were there for the fight. No beers, just water and grit.
In the end, that feeling of isolation only brought us closer together. We were our own tribe, our own source of strength. We didn’t need anyone else’s validation, and we definitely didn’t need anyone’s pity. That outsider status, that hunger, it became our secret weapon. We laughed about it, we owned it, and when it was over, we walked out knowing we’d done something special. We walked out as fighters, as survivors—and most importantly, as a team.
Lessons and Takeaways
- Preparation is nonlinear. Sometimes a tool you learned 6 months ago will be your final hour lifesaver.
- Sleep matters. The brain fog is real. Rotate and tag out if needed.
- Internal demons are louder than any scoreboard. Shut them down.
- - Having a strategy is primordial - Build solid one - Be strong is not enough, you must think like in a war, cause it is.
For Future Contenders
If you’re aiming for HackerLab 2024 (or any other CTF beast):
- Build your own toolkit — don’t rely on shared notes.
- Understand basics in categories you fear. (I’m telling that and still not able to perform an manual SQLI lmao - shame on me)
- Practice solo, then in teams. Both teach different strengths.
- And never underestimate the first 24 hours of a 48-hour CTF.
- If you think you can’t do it, you won’t. The fatest way to lose it to think like one.
- If you don’t trust someone in your team, eject him. That’s radical but the only way to keep internal cohesion.
- Document everything—even your mistakes You’ll forget your clever tricks, but your failures are the real gold for next time.”
- Take care of your body as much as your mind CTFs are marathons. Hydrate, stretch, sleep when you can. Burnout is real.”
- When you hit a wall, get up and walk away The answer often comes when you’re not staring at the screen.”
Remember: every contender starts as a beginner. Don’t be afraid to struggle, don’t be afraid to ask, and don’t let your ego write checks your skill can’t cash — yet. Every bruise you earn now is a weapon for next time. The hunger is what separates the champions from the rest.
If you’re a captain the next block is for you
Tactical Guide for CTF Team Captains
Stepping into the role of captain isn’t about barking orders or chasing glory—it’s about shaping a crew of individuals into a team that fights together, wins together, and grows together. If you’re preparing to lead, here’s the hard-earned playbook I wish someone had handed me at the start.
1. Know Your Troops
Get to know your team—not just the skills on their resume, but the person behind the keyboard.
- Play to your members’ strengths. Don’t assign reversing to someone good at web just to “challenge” them during a final. Now is not the time.
- Mental game matters: Some players burn bright and hot, others are slow-burning engines. Some need a moment of silence, others need hype and energy. Watch, listen, adapt. Know who needs silence, who needs motivation, who needs
2. Define a Game-Time Strategy
None Battle is won by accident.
Simulate before you play. Run at least two intense, full-team CTF simulations. Feel the pressure, the fatigue, the chaos of flag submissions and the pulse of real-time communications.
Decide, before the bullets fly:
- Who submits flags?
- How do you resolve flag disputes?
- Who’s glued to the scoreboard, scanning for sudden shifts?
- Who keeps a record of everything, so nothing slips through the cracks?
3. Rotation and Endurance
Burnout is the silent killer.
- Sleep isn’t a luxury—it’s a necessity. Build a rotation that gives everyone a shot at rest. Two hours of sleep can save you from five hours of brain fog.
- Fatigue is the enemy; fight it as a team.
4. Brain ≠ Brawn
You don’t win finals by brute force alone.
- Tactics over talent: Prioritize your categories. Watch the other teams — predict, counter, and strike where it hurts.
- Sometimes, winning isn’t about solving first—it’s about solving smart. The slow, tactical team that watches the scoreboard and chooses its battles will outlast a team that’s just throwing itself at problems blindly.
5. Cultivate Trust & Respect
A team isn’t a collection of skills; it’s a bond.
- Trust is everything. If you hesitate to rely on someone, you’re better off with a smaller, tighter team. Four players with total trust will always outperform five with friction.
- **Debrief every time—**not just technically, but emotionally. Let everyone speak. How did it feel? What broke us? What brought us together? These conversations make you stronger.
6. Build a Captain’s Toolkit
Every good captain has their secret weapon — a playbook.
Make one for yourself:
- Keep notes on your team’s unique strengths.
- Scripts and aliases that have survived the fires.
- Mental models for tough situations.
- Routines that rally the team when morale wavers. This notebook is your compass in chaos.
7. Don’t Chase Glory Alone
The best captains win by making others shine.
- Humility is your shield. Your job isn’t to rack up the most solves — it’s to make sure the whole team comes out on top.
- Lift others up, celebrate every victory, learn from every defeat. True leadership is measured by the legacy you leave in your team’s hearts, not just the scoreboard.
Step up, lead with purpose, and build a team that wins together — on the scoreboard, and beyond it.
🖤 Final Reflections
HackerLab 2023 was more than just a competition — it was a crucible that transformed me. I walked in as a novice, thinking I was prepared, but I was naive. I got hurt — badly. No matter how beautiful our victories felt in the moment, history only remembers the winners. That’s just how it is. The victors write the story, and the rest of us are left to tell it from the shadows. That’s what I’m doing now.
But here’s the truth: I didn’t leave with medals. I left with something far more valuable — pain, yes, but also a hunger that cut deeper than any defeat. That pain became fuel. During HackerLab, I broke out of the Matrix. All my illusions about my own skill were shattered. For the first time, I saw the real gaps in my armor — the places where I still had to grow, the places where I simply wasn’t enough. I tasted rage, frustration, even a bit of hatred — not towards anyone else, but towards the version of myself that had thought this would be fair.
Btw, that’s not the end of my story. I left the arena as someone changed. I was forged by the losses, not destroyed by them. I became obsessed with coming back, taking my revenge—not on others, but on my own limits. I trained harder, I studied deeper, and every setback just made my resolve stronger. I promised myself that I’d return, not as a novice, but as someone who had truly escaped the Matrix.
We may not have left with the trophies, but we left with scars — and those scars are the proof that champions aren’t born, they’re forged in fire. HackerLab 2023 was the end of my innocence, and the beginning of something far more powerful: the hunger to come back and write my own victory. And in 2024, I knew the story will be different.
1+ years of intense procrastination led to this retelling.
See you at the next battlefield.
ka3n1x