BADBOX 2.0 Botnet alert: FBI warns smart TVs, digital device may have exploit

The Brief
Cyber criminals are exploiting IoT devices in homes to create a botnet called BADBOX 2.0, enabling illegal online activities.
Most compromised devices are manufactured in China and become infected either pre-loaded with malware or during app downloads containing hidden backdoors.
The FBI advises the public to assess and disconnect suspicious IoT devices, avoid unofficial app sources, and report potential victimization to the Internet Crime Complaint Center.
WASHINGTON - The Federal Bureau of Investigation issued a public alert on Thursday, cautioning Americans about cyber criminals who are exploiting internet-connected devices in homes to conduct illegal activities through a network known as the BADBOX 2.0 botnet.
What we know
According to the FBI, criminals are gaining unauthorized access to home networks by targeting Internet of Things (IoT) devices such as TV streaming boxes, digital projectors, digital picture frames, and aftermarket vehicle infotainment systems. Most of these compromised devices are manufactured in China and are either pre-loaded with malicious software or become infected during setup when users download apps containing hidden backdoors.
Dig deeper
Once compromised, these devices become part of BADBOX 2.0—a botnet comprising millions of infected systems used to access residential proxy services, often without the knowledge of consumers. The FBI noted that BADBOX 2.0 is the successor to the original BADBOX campaign, which was disrupted in 2024 after being discovered in 2023. The initial version primarily targeted Android devices compromised with backdoor malware prior to purchase. The updated campaign now also infects devices via unofficial app marketplaces.
Why you should care
Cyber criminals utilize these infected devices to sell or offer free access to compromised home networks, enabling a wide range of illegal online activities. The FBI listed several signs that may indicate a device is compromised, including the presence of unofficial app marketplaces, devices requiring Google Play Protect to be disabled, streaming devices advertised as "unlocked" or able to access free content, unknown or unverified device brands, Android devices that are not Play Protect certified, and unexplained or suspicious internet traffic.
What you can do
The FBI is urging the public to assess all IoT devices connected to their home networks and consider disconnecting any device that appears suspicious. Officials also advise consumers to avoid downloading apps from unofficial sources, keep software updated, monitor network activity, and prioritize patching any known vulnerabilities.
The agency acknowledged contributions from Google, Human Security, Trend Micro, and the Shadowserver Foundation in preparing the alert. Anyone who believes they may have been a victim is urged to file a report with the FBI's Internet Crime Complaint Center at www.ic3.gov.
The Source
The details in this article were provided by the FBI.

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Learn with AIFact CheckingText to SpeechAI Summary

Related Articles

Android Authority

2 hours ago

• Android Authority

I still keep a 6-year-old Android 10 phone in my back pocket — here's why

Andy Walker / Android Authority I've been feeling quite nostalgic lately, especially for old camera phones. Last month, I praised the Nokia 9 PureView for its unique camera setup that makes every shot an adventure. I've also revisited the LG G4, a phone that sparked my love for photography. However, there's one more older Android camera phone I still carry around whenever possible. In its prime, the HUAWEI P30 Pro was the best Android phone money could buy. Sure, that's just my opinion, but plenty of evidence supports it. It was durable and relatively compact compared to today's phones. It had simple yet attractive styling, fast performance, and excellent battery life. After five years as my loyal daily driver, its age started showing. The battery health was declining, and I received its last update in mid-2023. It's still stuck on Android 10, and there is no hope of new software versions or security upgrades. How important is smartphone camera zoom performance to you? 0 votes I only consider phones with great zoom performance. NaN % It's pretty high up my priority list. NaN % It's not that important to me. NaN % I don't care if a phone doesn't have a zoom camera. NaN % Andy Walker / Android Authority I had to upgrade, albeit reluctantly. The phone to fill that void was the Samsung Galaxy S24 FE. Our review of the 2024 Fan Edition phone was positive, and my experience has been equally solid. Despite the poor battery life, mediocre display, and heavy footprint, it's a capable upgrade that will be supported for years. I also have a Pixel 8, which I love for its small size and swift operation. Importantly, both devices are capable pocket cameras in their own right. I've had endless fun capturing street scenes and landscapes with the Pixel 8, while the Galaxy excels as a point-and-shoot portrait camera for family and friends. However, both phones lag behind the P30 Pro in one important aspect: zoom. A periscope camera that's as good as ever It may be half a decade older than the Samsung and Google phones I replaced it with, but the HUAWEI still outperforms both, grabbing objects much farther away and bringing them even closer to me. On paper, the 8MP 5x optical and 50x digital periscope lens seems modest and outdated, but I miss it dearly when the phone isn't within reach. This feeling was particularly evident during a recent road trip. I usually toss a few phones in my bag before heading off on adventures, and this time I brought the Galaxy, Pixel, and PureView along. After much of the visit was spent capturing ground-level subjects, I turned my view to the top of a building where a raptor was perched. I grabbed the Samsung — the only phone with a dedicated zoom lens — and zoomed. Despite its 3x optical and 30x digital zoom, the phone couldn't bring me close enough to my avian subject. It soon flew off, and I regretted leaving the P30 Pro at home. It may be half a decade older than the Samsung and Google phones I replaced it with, but the P30 Pro still out-zooms both. Spending less time with the P30 Pro has made me realize how vital periscope capabilities are for me on a smartphone, and not just for photography. Capturing tighter shots of distant, unapproachable fauna or flora increases the likelihood of getting an accurate hit in a bird or plant identification app. Using Lens or Circle to Search to identify other items is easier too when used via Google Photos on my primary phone. Longer zoom offers more utility, which is indispensable for my phone usage habits. Ryan-Thomas Shaw / Android Authority I've since learned my lesson. I keep the P30 Pro with me just in case I need it. Despite its age, it still works great as a backup phone, despite its growing issues. I haven't reset it, so all my apps and files are still stored safely on it. Its 256GB storage bank also comes in handy for offline file storage. Nevertheless, my recent experiences without the phone have taught me two valuable lessons. First, I can't imagine buying a phone in the future without a capable zoom lens. Sure, I could and probably should use my 70-300mm zoom lens on my D3400 more often, but I don't always have the comparatively bulky DSLR camera with me. Convenience comes at a price. Secondly, older hardware often surpasses modern innovation. The P30 Pro is proof of that. I wouldn't have considered upgrading if the phone still received regular updates. Now that it's no longer my daily driver, I don't care if it's running an older version of Android. But, thanks to its stellar reach, it more than earns its place among my current devices.

Forbes

4 hours ago

• Forbes

Is Using Tech To Make Your Own Sparkling Water Worthwhile?

This portable system makes instant sparkling water Americans apparently love effervescence. According to Google's Gemini, the global sparkling water market was valued at about $42.62 billion last year. And it's projected to grow significantly, with estimates maxing it out at $108 billion by 2032. That's a lot of burps. So it shouldn't shock you that companies are flocking to get in on a piece of and Kirkland flavored sparkling water are mainstays in our home. The labeling implies there's no sugar – just essentially water and CO2. So it's way better for you than carbonated soda. And to me, it's so much tastier than plain drinking water, with all the used to have a Sodastream unit, in which we made our own seltzer water by carbonating ordinary tap water and adding flavor syrup. Somewhere along the way, it broke or stopped working. So we just went back to buying cans of the good stuff. Of course, this habit can get a little pricey. But more than anything, I really just don't like carrying the heavy cases of it in from the car, once we get home from I heard about Aerflo, which brings portability to the category. It's a single drinking water bottle in which the top holds a refillable CO2 canister -- making it a portable, zero-waste carbonation system. It's kind of an online sensation, I noticed, with reviewers posting how-to videos and hundreds of people joining in on the for $74, the system includes the portable carbonator, a reusable bottle, and a set of refillable CO₂ capsules that each make up to four bottles of sparkling water. It's compact enough to fit in your front-seat cup holder; is free of PFAS, BPA and microplastics; and is backed by a circular exchange model. Just drop used capsules in the mail using the prepaid return box, and Aerflo refills and recirculates them from its New Jersey facility. The company claims it's ideal for those who care about sustainability, simplicity and well-made gear. And it of course eliminates the need for counter-top appliances that carbonate two weeks, I've been trying Aerflo – along with friends and family. It's easy to use: You place the small CO2 canister in the lid, fill the water bottle, tighten the lid, press the lid in the marked spot three times or so, shake the container, and then repeat the last two steps three times. When the water has carbonated enough, it lets out a noise of air escaping. Then you remove the lid and drink. The entire process takes maybe 30 my brief experience, it works fine but the water does not get as carbonated as a can of Lacroix – no matter how much I've tried carbonating and even over-carbonating. Yet it generates a pleasing amount of bubbles that does the job. The company asks you not add syrup or flavoring, but you can just pour the water into a separate glass with syrup if you want. I added a lime wedge to the Aerflo bottle, and that worked fine. Also, I was only able to get two glasses of carbonation out of any canister – even once I started pressing the lid the minimum amount of times per glass. So I'm not sure how much savings it's truly offering over just buying cans of sparkling water. But it's definitely better for the environment than throwing out can after an industry clearly growing exponentially, it's good that there are options. I expect there will be more products like this emerging as time goes on. And that makes me feel bubbly.

Atlantic

5 hours ago

• Atlantic

The Perverse Pride of Having Never Owned a Smartphone

This article was featured in the One Story to Read Today newsletter. Sign up for it here. Unlike nearly 98 percent of Americans under the age of 50, I don't have a smartphone. Actually, I've never had a smartphone. I've never called an Uber, never 'dropped a pin,' never used Venmo or Spotify or a dating app, never been in a group chat, never been jealous of someone on Instagram (because I've never been on Instagram). I used to feel ashamed of this, or rather, I was made to feel ashamed. For a long time, people either didn't believe me when I told them that I didn't have a smartphone, or reacted with a sort of embarrassed disdain, like they'd just realized I was the source of an unpleasant odor they'd been ignoring. But over the past two years, the reaction has changed. As the costs of being always online have become more apparent, the offline, air-gapped, inaccessible person has become an object of fascination, even envy. I have to confess that I've become a little smug about being a Never-Phoner—a holdout who somehow went from being left behind to ahead of the curve. How far ahead is difficult to say. I think I've avoided the worst effects of the smartphone: the stunned, preoccupied affect; the social atrophy; the hunched posture and long horizontal neck creases of the power scroller. I'm pretty sure my attention span is better than many others', based on the number of people I've observed in movie theaters who either check their phone every few minutes (about half) or scroll throughout the entire movie (always a handful). I will, by the way, let you know if I witness you engaging in similar behavior: If you look at your phone more than once an hour, I will call you an 'iPad baby'; if you put on an auto-generated Spotify playlist, I'll call you 'a hog at the slop trough.' Being phoneless has definitely had downsides. The pockets of every jacket I own are filled with maps scrawled on napkins, receipts, and utility bills torn in half to get me to unfamiliar places. I once missed an important job interview because I'd mislabeled the streets on my hastily sketched map. At the end of group dinners, when someone says, 'Everyone Venmo me $37.50,' the two 20s I offer are taken up like a severed ear. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't occasionally get wistful about all the banter I'm probably missing out on in group chats. Still, I've held out, though it's hard to articulate exactly why. The common anti-smartphone angles don't really land with me. The cranky 'Get off your darn phone!' seems a little too close to 'Get off my lawn!'—a knee-jerk aversion to new things is, if not the root of all evil, then the root of all dullness. The popular exhortations to 'be fully present in the moment' also seem misguided. I think the person utterly absorbed in an Instagram Reel as they shuffle into the crosswalk against the light, narrowly saved by the 'Ahem, excuse me' double-tap on the horn that bus drivers use to tell you that you're a split second from being reunited with your childhood dog, is probably living in the moment to a degree usually achieved only by Buddhist monks; the problem is just that it's the wrong moment. Read: Why are there so many 'alternative devices' all of a sudden? Mostly, I think the reason I don't opt for the more frictionless phone life is that I can't help noticing how much people have changed in the decade or so since smartphones have become ubiquitous. I used to marvel at the walking scroller's ability to sightlessly navigate the crowd, possibly using some kind of batlike sonar. But then, on occasion, whether out of a vague antisocial impulse (not infrequent) or simple necessity (as in navigating a narrow aisle at the grocery store), I'd play a game of chicken with one of these people, walking directly toward them to see when they'd veer off. A surprising percentage of the time, they didn't, and after the collision, they'd always blame me. Eventually, I realized they're not navigating anything; they've just outsourced responsibility for their corporeal self to everyone else around them, much as many people have outsourced their memory to their phone. You're probably saying, well, at least they're on foot, and not driving a car. But many people look at their phones behind the wheel too. At a four-way stop, oftentimes the driver who yields to the crossing vehicle will steal a half-second look at their phone while they wait. At red lights, I see people all the time who don't look up from their phone when the light turns green—they just depress the gas when the car in front of them moves. Less hazardous but somehow more disturbing are the people I see scrolling in parked cars late at night. When I glance over—startled by the sudden appearance of a disembodied, underlit face on an otherwise deserted block—these people typically glare back, looking aggrieved and put-upon, as if I've broken a contract I didn't know I'd agreed to. I try to give them the benefit of the doubt; maybe they share a bed with a light sleeper, or have six annoying kids bouncing off the walls at home. But it happens often enough that I've come to think of them as the embodiment of contemporary alienation. Twenty-five years ago, we had Bowling Alone; today, we have scrolling alone. Of course, a phone is just a medium, no different on some level from a laptop or a book, and the blanket 'phone bad' position elides the fact that people could be doing a nearly infinite number of things on them, many of them productive. The guy hunched intently over his phone at the gym might be reading the latest research on novel cancer treatments. But probably not. Once, a guy at my gym, whose shoulder I looked over as he used the stationary bike in front of me, was talking to an AI-anime-schoolgirl chatbot on his phone. She was telling him, in a very small, breathy voice, how she'd been in line at the store earlier, and when someone had cut in front of her, she'd politely spoken up and asked them to go to the back of the line. 'That's great, baby,' he said. 'I'm so proud of you for standing up for yourself.' This is more or less typical of the stuff I spy people doing on their phone—self-abasing, a devitalized substitute for some real-life activity, and incredibly demoralizing, at least in the eyes of a phoneless naif. Many times, I've watched friends open a group chat, sigh, and go through a huge backlog of unread messages, mechanically dispensing heart eyes and laughing emoji—friendship as a data-entry gig you aren't paid for, yet can't quit. I have a girlfriend, but one of my friends often lets me watch as he uses the dating apps. Like most men (including myself), he overestimates his attractiveness while underestimating the attractiveness of the women he swipes on. 'I guess I'll give her a chance,' he'll say, swiping right on a woman whom ancient civilizations would've gone to war over. As long as this friend does his daily quota of swipes, he's 'out there and on the market,' he tells me, and there's 'nothing more he can do.' Yet we go to the same coffee shop, and several times a week, we see a woman who seems to be his perfect match. Each day, he comes in, reads his little autofiction book, then takes out his laptop to peck away at a little autofiction manuscript. Each day, she comes in, reads her little autofiction book, then takes out her laptop to peck away at what we've theorized must also be a little autofiction manuscript. Sometimes they sit, by chance, at adjacent tables, so close that I'm sure he can smell her perfume. On these occasions, I try to encourage him from across the room—I raise my eyebrows suggestively, I subtly thrust my hips under the table. After she leaves, I go over and ask why he didn't talk to her; he reacts as if I suggested a self-appendectomy. 'Maybe I'll see her on the apps,' he says, of the woman he's just seen in real life for the 300th time. I don't blame him. He's 36 and has only ever dated through apps. Meeting people in public does seem exponentially harder than it was just 10 years ago. The bars seem mostly full of insular friend groups and people nervously awaiting their app dates. (Few things are more depressing than witnessing the initial meeting of app users. 'Taylor … ? Hi, Riley.' The firm salesmanlike handshake, the leaning hug with feet kept at maximum distance, both speaking over each other in their job-interview voices.) I often see people come into a bar, order a single drink, sit looking at their phone for 20 to 30 minutes, and then leave. Maybe they're being ghosted. Or maybe they're doing exactly what they intended to do. But they frequently look disappointed; I imagine that their visit was an attempt at something—giving serendipity an opportunity to tap them on the shoulder and say, Here you go, here's the encounter that will fix you. Witnessing all of this, I sense that a huge amount of social and libidinal energy has been withdrawn from the real world. Where has it all gone? Data centers? The comments? Many critics of smartphones say that phones have made people narcissists, but I don't think that's right. Narcissists need other people; the emotional charge of engagement is their lifeblood. What the oblivious walking scroller, the driving texter, the unrealistic dating-app swiper have in common is almost the opposite—a quality closer to the insularity of solipsism, the belief that you're the one person who actually exists and that other people are fundamentally unreal. Solipsism, though, is a form of isolation, and to become accustomed to it is to make yourself a kind of recluse, capable of mimicking normalcy yet only truly comfortable shuffling among your feeds, muttering darkly to yourself. I know that my refusal to get a smartphone is an implicit admission that I would become just as addicted to it as anyone else. Recently, my girlfriend handed me her phone and told me to put on music for sex; a few minutes later, she leaned over to see what was taking so long. I had been looking at the Wikipedia page for soft-serve ice cream. I have no idea why I was looking at that or even how I'd gotten there. It's like the sudden availability of unlimited information had sent me into a fugue state, and I just started swiping and scrolling. I guess I looked into the void and fell in. I won't lie; it felt kind of nice, giving up.