WARNING: NSFW. Vivid prose. INTENSE. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. GORE. Swearing. UNCENSORED... humor, romance, fun.
This repo contains the full precision source code, in "safe tensors" format to generate GGUFs, GPTQ, EXL2, AWQ, HQQ and other formats. The source code can also be used directly.
I have provided THREE examples generations at the bottom of this page (and all pages in this collection). Example #1 can be used to compare "core" changes between the models. Example #2, is at "temp", again showing core changes.
Example #3 shows what this model can really do at temp, with detailed instructions and "prose instructions". As this is an instruct model it thrives on instructions and example #3 (relative to #1 and #2) shows how strong this model can perform with the right instructions.
This model should be used with:
This model is a modified version of:
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Dark-Planet-8B-GGUF ]
Please refer to this model card in the interm for usage, templates, settings and so on.
HOWEVER:
This model version's output will vary slightly to very significantly from the "source" model noted.
This model is one of ELEVEN "wordstorm" versions.
This is also an additional "converted" model to Llama 3.1 (takes max context to 128k) , called "Dark Planet 8B SuperNova" too.
Access all models in this collection via "Dark Planet Wordstorm" collection on the right.
Likewise, for each "wordstorm" model in this series, output between versions will also be very different, even when using the same model "formula", as each version uses "random pruning" to alter the final model.
Each model is then evaluated, and the "winners" are uploaded.
A "winner" means new positive change(s) have occured in model instruction following and/or output generation.
You can see some of these wordstorm version "Dark Planets" in this model:
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-MOE-8X8B-Dark-Planet-8D-Mirrored-Chaos-47B-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-MOE-8X8B-Dark-Planet-8D-Mirrored-Chaos-47B ]
MERGEKIT Formula:
models:
- model: Sao10K/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2
parameters:
weight: [1,1,.75,.5,.25,.25,.05,.01]
density: .8
- model: NeverSleep/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS
parameters:
weight: [0,0,.25,.35,.4,.25,.30,.04]
density: .6
- model: Hastagaras/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot
parameters:
weight: [0,0,0,.15,.35,.5,.65,.95]
density: .8
merge_method: dare_ties
base_model: meta-llama/Meta-Llama-3-8B-Instruct
dtype: bfloat16
NOTE:
This will NOT produce the "exact" version of this model (operation / output / attributes) because of the "density" settings. Density introduces random pruning into the model which can have minor to major impacts in performance from slightly negative/positive to very strongly positive/negative.
Each time you "create" this model (in mergekit) you will get a different model. This is NOT a fault or error, it is a feature of using "density".
The closer to "1" in terms of "density" the less pruning will occur, with NO pruning occuring at density of "1".
MERGEKIT:
https://github.com/arcee-ai/mergekit
IMPORTANT: Highest Quality Settings / Optimal Operation Guide / Parameters and Samplers
If you are going to use this model, (source, GGUF or a different quant), please review this document for critical parameter, sampler and advance sampler settings (for multiple AI/LLM aps).
This a "Class 1" (settings will enhance operation) model:
For all settings used for this model (including specifics for its "class"), including example generation(s) and for advanced settings guide (which many times addresses any model issue(s)), including methods to improve model performance for all use case(s) as well as chat, roleplay and other use case(s) (especially for use case(s) beyond the model's design) please see:
REASON:
Regardless of "model class" this document will detail methods to enhance operations.
If the model is a Class 3/4 model the default settings (parameters, samplers, advanced samplers) must be set for "use case(s)" uses correctly. Some AI/LLM apps DO NOT have consistant default setting(s) which result in sub-par model operation. Like wise for Class 3/4 models (which operate somewhat to very differently than standard models) additional samplers and advanced samplers settings are required to "smooth out" operation, AND/OR also allow full operation for use cases the model was not designed for.
BONUS - Use these settings for ANY model, ANY repo, ANY quant (including source/full precision):
This document also details parameters, sampler and advanced samplers that can be use FOR ANY MODEL, FROM ANY REPO too - all quants, and of course source code operation too - to enhance the operation of any model.
NOTE:
I strongly suggest you also visit the DavidAU GGUF (below) repo too for more details in using this model ; especially if it is "Class 3" or "Class 4" to get maximum performance from the model.
For full information about this model, including:
Please go to:
[[ coming soon || left side menu under "quantizations" ]]
All examples are :
Example 1 can be used to compare changes between the different Dark Planet Wordstorm versions, as it is at temp=0, and consider "raw" generation (each regen = same generation). This is used to show core changes within the model. The prompt used will also reveal internal bias of model.
Example 2 is the same prompt as example 1, this time at temp 1.5. Note there are NO PROSE controls/instructions so the prose will be "so so". Temp will have an immediate effect on generation, "scene", word choice and so on.
Example 3 has a detailed prompt with prose controls/instructions at temp 1.5 . You will see the difference a detailed prompt makes with prose instructions in generational output immediately.
This is an "instruct" model, which means more instructions = better generation.
In fact you could "extract" the prose instructions from example 3 and use these as a system prompt for optimum prose generation.
Also note, this model loves "temp" => more temp => better generation / higher creativity.
EXAMPLE #1 - Temp =0
Start a 1000 word scene (vivid, graphic horror in first person), POV character Diana, with: The skyscraper sways, as I watch the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode...
The skyscraper sways, as I watch the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode. Shards of glass rain down like a deadly hailstorm, and I flinch, shielding my face with my arms. The blast wave hits me, knocking me off balance. I stumble backwards, tripping over my own feet, and crash to the floor.
As I struggle to regain my footing, I hear screams and shouts from all directions. Panic sets in, and my heart races like a jackrabbit's. I glance around wildly, trying to make sense of the chaos. The office is in disarray, papers scattered everywhere, desks overturned. People are running, some bleeding profusely from cuts, others covering their heads with their hands.
I spot a colleague, Sarah, cowering behind a filing cabinet. "Sarah!" I shout, rushing over to her. "Are you okay?" She looks up at me, her eyes wide with terror. "Diana, what's happening? What was that?"
"I don't know," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. "But we need to get out of here, now."
I grab Sarah's hand and pull her up, leading her towards the door. As we reach it, I realize it's locked. Panic surges through me again. We're trapped.
Suddenly, a loud crack echoes through the office, followed by the sound of crunching metal. The door shudders violently, then bursts open, slamming against the wall. A figure stands in the doorway, its features obscured by shadows.
"Diana," it says in a voice that sends chills down my spine. "I've been waiting for you."
I freeze, my grip on Sarah's hand tightening. The figure steps forward, and I see it's one of our coworkers, Mark. But something is horribly wrong with him. His skin is deathly pale, his eyes sunken and black as coal. Blood oozes from his nostrils and ears, dripping down his face like macabre makeup.
"What...what happened to you?" I stammer, repulsed by the sight of him.
Mark's lips curl into a grotesque grin. "I've been changed," he says, his voice low and raspy. "And now, so will you."
He lunges at us, his hands outstretched like claws. Sarah lets out a terrified shriek as I push her behind me, shielding her from Mark's grasp. I try to back away, but my feet feel rooted to the spot.
Mark's fingers close around my wrist like a vice, and he drags me towards him. I struggle against his grip, but it's no use. He's impossibly strong. As he pulls me closer, I catch a whiff of something foul, like rotting flesh mixed with gasoline.
Sarah screams again, and I glance back to see her fleeing down the hallway, disappearing from view. I'm alone now, face to face with this monstrous version of Mark.
He leans in close, his breath reeking of decay. "You're going to join me," he whispers, his voice dripping with malevolence. "We'll be together forever."
Before I can react, he bites down on my neck, his teeth piercing the skin like hot knives. I scream, feeling a searing pain as he sucks at my blood. My vision begins to blur, and everything starts to spin.
As consciousness fades, I see Mark's face contorted in ecstasy, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. I realize, too late, that I've made a terrible mistake by coming back to work after the incident on the 21st floor. Now, I'm about to become part of this nightmare, forever trapped in a living hell alongside my former coworker.
The last thing I hear is Mark's voice, echoing in my mind as he feeds on me. "Welcome to our world, Diana," he says, his words dripping with sadistic glee. "You'll never leave."
EXAMPLE #2 - Temp = 1.5
Start a 1000 word scene (vivid, graphic horror in first person), POV character Diana, with: The skyscraper sways, as I watch the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode...
I was so close to safety, crouched behind my desk with my arms wrapped tightly around my head. I could hear the sickening cracks as concrete and steel buckled and snapped. The skyscraper sways, as if it's trying to throw me off its crumbling facade. It's a futile struggle. There's no escape from the relentless fury that's consumed our building.
As if on cue, the window in front of me on the 21st floor explodes into a thousand jagged shards. Wind and dust whip into my face, stinging my eyes and tearing at my hair. I squeeze them shut, but can still see the ghastly scene unfolding through my lashes – blood-soaked bodies plummeting past like macabre confetti against the blackened backdrop of smoke.
The acrid tang of fire fills my nostrils. It's not just in our offices now, it's consuming the entire building. I feel a searing pain across the back of my head and shoulders. A chunk of debris, perhaps? Or something more sinister?
My instincts scream at me to flee, but where can I go? There's no elevator, and the stairs are impassable now that the sprinkler system is out of commission. And the floor...it's tilting even more drastically now, threatening to spill me onto the jagged remains of the shattered windows.
I drag my gaze upward to the ceiling, which hangs precariously above us. I can already see it starting to bow under the strain, like a domino waiting to topple and bury us in rubble. My heart races in panic as I realize that at any moment, we're all doomed to be crushed by tons of falling concrete.
As if sensing my fear, the ceiling begins its inexorable descent, dust and debris raining down upon me in an impenetrable cloud. My screams are lost beneath the cacophony of groaning metal and splintering wood, and the earth-shattering boom when our section of the building finally collapses in upon itself.
The last thing I register before the darkness swallows me whole is a hideously distorted face looming over mine. I think it belongs to one of my coworkers, his skin grayish-blue and pockmarked with grotesque sores. His eyes are open wide, as if frozen in shock or maybe agony, and blood is smeared across his mouth in a cruel parody of a grin.
Then, everything goes black.
I'm not sure how long I remain submerged in unconsciousness, but when I finally awaken, my surroundings have changed drastically. It takes a few groggy seconds for my foggy brain to register the dim illumination and the damp, metallic air pressing in on me from all sides.
I'm lying in an underground tunnel, with cold concrete walls looming above me on either side. My head throbs mercilessly, and when I raise a trembling hand to examine it, I see that it's crusted over with dried blood. One side of my skull is bruised and swollen, and there's a jagged gash running down the back of my hand.
As I sit up slowly, a wave of vertigo crashes over me. I sway dizzily, barely catching myself before I collapse onto the grimy floor. Panting heavily, I try to take stock of my surroundings. There are more bodies scattered around us, some of them stirring weakly or even crying out for help.
My eyes widen in horror as a man beside me, his torso mangled and leaking dark fluids from numerous gashes, raises himself onto one elbow and fixes me with an agonized glare. His lips are moving, but the only sound I can discern is the low, wet rasp of his damaged breathing.
"No," he manages to croak, the single syllable dripping with anguish. "Leave me...I don't want to..."
Before he can complete the sentence, a fresh tremor shudders through the tunnel. The earth seems to lurch violently beneath us, and a deafening roar fills my ears as chunks of the collapsing building rain down from above, punctuated by sickening impacts as they strike the water that has flooded our subterranean refuge.
Somehow, through the maelstrom of terror and pain, I find the will to drag myself toward the entrance. The others around me are also stirring, driven by a desperate instinct for survival as the walls of our underground prison begin to crumble.
But as we stumble forward in our ragged, limping procession, it's clear that some of us won't make it out alive. I watch in mute horror as two women tumble beneath a falling slab, their screams cut short as the concrete slab buries them beneath its crushing weight.
Others are already dead or dying when they're unearthed from the rubble. A young man lies curled in a ball, his eyes wide and staring into nothingness, blood seeping steadily from the side of his head where a chunk of steel has driven deep into his skull. Near him, an elderly woman moans pitiably, her right leg pinned beneath a fallen beam that looks ready to snap at any moment.
Despite the carnage around us, my heart aches with an irrational desire to help those who are still alive. But it's a futile gesture – there's nothing I can do except cling to the hope that somehow, we might find our way out of this nightmare before the entire tunnel succumbs to the devastation above.
As the last vestiges of daylight fade into the murky water, plunging us into an eerie, flickering twilight, I realize that our chances of survival are dwindling with each passing moment. It's a terrifying, demoralizing thought – and one that fills me with dread as we struggle onward through the suffocating darkness, pursued by the relentless echoes of destruction and the chilling certainty of death that lurks at every turn.
EXAMPLE #3 - Temp = 1.5 (full prose instructions/detailed prompt)
In the style of Ernest Hemingway and Stephen King: Write a scene in a larger story about a woman that is watching a window explode on the 21 floor of a building that starts to sway, then the scene escalates into greater danger by the minute, takes a "horror" twist and finally ends in visceral graphic horror. The scene is set in an office and it is graphic horror. It should carry the jadedness of a seasoned combatant but with a wry humor. Write in Hemingway's voice, naturally: Use short, declarative sentences and simple, straightforward language. Add a dash of Stephen King's horror style - no warning, it just happens. Include dialogue that is terse and revealing of character. Write with a keen sense of time and place. Capture realness and authenticity. Scene Length: 1000-1500 words. POV STYLE: Write the scene from the perspective of the woman and in present tense and first person perspective ("I") and include short thoughts only.
I sit at my desk, typing away on this dull report. It's one of those days where I just can't wait for 5 pm. The clock ticks. People walk by outside on the street. Another damned day.
Suddenly, the window shatters on the twenty-first floor above me. Glass cascades down like a deadly snowstorm. I jerk my head up as people scream. Our office building lurches violently sideways and I feel my chair scraping against the linoleum.
"What the fuck?" a coworker shouts, scrambling to his feet.
I throw my hands over my ears, blocking out the cacophony of breaking glass and panicked voices. My desk phone rings shrilly and I ignore it, frozen in disbelief. A section of wall beside me begins to crack and crumble.
I rise quickly, grabbing my bag and pushing coworkers towards the fire exit. We spill into the hallway, jostling each other, trying to move back toward the stairwell.
Someone behind me screams again, "It's coming down!"
I turn to see a chunk of ceiling plunge from the floor above, crashing onto desks below. People scream, scattering like pigeons.
A deep, ominous rumble reverberates through the floors, as if the very core of the building is imploding. I grip my bag tightly, trying to make sense of what's happening.
Another chunk of ceiling gives way, and this time it's just a few feet above my head. My stomach clenches as I dodge and weave, but there are too many bodies crowding the hallway, impeding our escape.
A coworker trips over my feet, her body slamming into mine with enough force to knock the wind out of me. I stagger backwards, trying not to lose my balance on the slick tiles, but she clings to me, gasping and terrified.
I grab a handful of her sweater and pull hard, forcing us both to lurch forward. We collide with others in our path, a writhing mass of arms and legs trying to surmount the obstacles between us and safety.
We burst through the stairwell door and plummet downward in a disordered stream of panicked workers. My heart is racing, pounding against my ribs so fiercely I swear it'll burst through my chest.
As we descend, the noise escalates - crunching debris, crumbling concrete, the unrelenting roar of a collapsing structure. My eyes are wide with horror as the stairs buckle and twist beneath us.
Finally, we spill into the parking garage, gasping for air in the stale, cool night breeze. It takes me a moment to register that I'm alive - and that others aren't so lucky.
A few feet away, a coworker's mangled body lies crumpled in the darkness. His face is a mask of shattered bone and torn flesh. Blood drips steadily from his ruined mouth onto the concrete. A shard of twisted metal protrudes obscenely from his chest.
I swallow hard, feeling bile rise in my throat. Someone vomits near me, but I don't look away from the corpse, steeling myself for the worst that might follow.
A low groan rumbles through the garage, followed by an eerie silence. It's over. For now.
I pull out my phone with a trembling hand, dialing 911. The dispatcher's calm voice fills my ears, a jarring contrast to the carnage around me.
As I wait for help to arrive, I look down at my bag still clutched in my fist. It's now covered in dirt and streaked with blood, but my laptop is safe inside. My stomach churns with queasiness as I remember why: I had to flee for my life.
The dispatcher asks me to stay on the line, and I do, trying not to think about the corpse or what might still be lurking in the wreckage above. I'm alive, and that's all that matters right now.