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.
Panic sets in as I scramble to my knees, my heart pounding in my chest. I glance up at the gaping hole where the window once was, and a chill runs down my spine. What just happened? Was it an accident? Or something more sinister?
I push myself to my feet, my hands shaking as I look around the dimly lit office. The air is thick with the acrid smell of smoke and something else... something metallic and sickeningly sweet. My stomach churns as I realize what it might be.
I take a tentative step forward, my eyes fixed on the shattered remains of the window. The wind howls through the breach, whipping my hair into a frenzy and making it hard to see. But I force myself to peer out into the abyss.
The drop is dizzying, a sheer plunge of hundreds of feet to the pavement below. I can see the tops of cars and people scurrying about like ants. A wave of vertigo washes over me, and I sway on my feet, gripping the windowsill for support.
Suddenly, a figure emerges from the darkness outside. It's a woman, her face twisted into a grotesque grimace. She's covered in blood, and her eyes are wild with a feral hunger. She reaches out a hand, beckoning me to come closer.
My mind reels as I try to process what I'm seeing. Is this some kind of hallucination brought on by the shock of the explosion? Or is it real?
The woman's lips curl into a snarl, and she takes another step forward. I can see the jagged edges of her teeth, stained with gore. My heart races as I realize that if I don't get away from this window, she might just drag me out into the void.
I turn to flee, but it's too late. The woman lunges at me, her hands closing around my wrists like iron claws. I scream as she pulls me towards the edge, my feet scrabbling for purchase on the slick floor.
The world spins as we teeter on the brink, the wind whipping through my hair and the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of color. I can feel the woman's hot breath on my face, her eyes burning with an unholy intensity.
And then, in a flash of insight, I understand. This isn't just some deranged killer or survivor of the blast. This is something far more sinister. Something that's been awakened by the destruction, and now feeds on the chaos and terror it inspires.
I wrench my arms free from her grip, and we both stumble backwards. The woman lets out a guttural growl, baring her teeth once more. I know I have to get away from her, but my legs feel like lead, and my lungs burn for air.
As I back towards the door, I catch a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. A figure in a black suit is standing in the doorway, his face obscured by shadows. He raises a hand, and I see a glint of metal.
The woman lunges at me again, but this time, I'm ready. I dodge to the side, and she crashes into the wall with a sickening thud. The man steps forward, his gun trained on her, and fires.
The sound of the gunshot is deafening, and I cover my ears as the woman's body jerks violently. She slumps to the floor, her eyes glazing over as life drains from her twisted form.
The man turns to me, his face still hidden in the darkness. "Come with me," he says, his voice low and urgent. "We have to get out of here."
I nod, my mind reeling with the implications of what just happened. As I follow him out of the office, I can't shake the feeling that we're not just escaping the building – we're fleeing from something far more sinister lurking in the shadows.
Something that might just be waiting for its next victim...
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 stumble against the cold, steel railing, my hands trembling uncontrollably as the skyscraper sways. Sweat drips down my face, mingling with the blood and grime that coats my skin. The acrid stench of burnt rubber and charred flesh fills my nostrils, making my stomach churn. My ears ring from the blast, and I cover them instinctively, as if I could block out the screams still echoing through the damaged corridor.
Through the jagged hole where the window once was, a maelstrom of debris swirls around us, pelting me with shards of glass, pulverized concrete, and mangled human remains. A chunk of torso thuds to the floor beside me, its intestines spilling out like a macabre ribbon. I gag, swallowing bile as I fight the urge to retch. It's been only minutes since it started, but it feels like an eternity.
I'm still wearing my company uniform—gray slacks, a crisp white blouse, and a name tag that reads "Diana Lee, Account Manager"—a cruel reminder of how this day was supposed to unfold: a routine meeting at the 21st floor conference room, followed by a celebratory lunch at that new Italian place. Now, it's nothing but a scene from hell.
I glance frantically around the dimly lit corridor, the emergency lights flickering ominously like a demented disco beat. The once-modern décor now looks sinister, as if the very walls have conspired against me. Our office was supposed to be one of the safest in the city, with reinforced glass and bulletproof doors. Whatever force detonated that window should have shattered those defenses instead.
Behind me, a chorus of frantic voices rises from the stairwell, growing louder with each step. I recognize some of my coworkers; others are strangers, their faces distorted by terror as they stumble out of the elevator shafts. Panic and desperation etch itself onto their features, like the brutal carvings on ancient pagan idols.
Someone—possibly a woman, judging from the voice—begins shouting instructions, her words drowned out by the cacophony of screams, groans, and crumbling debris. She pleads for everyone to get down, stay away from windows, and head to the emergency exits. I nod fervently, trying to process the chaos as the ground beneath us continues to vibrate.
A young man nearby clutches at his abdomen, his shirt drenched with crimson as he staggers toward a broken water fountain. His legs buckle, and he collapses onto the concrete, his body convulsing in a violent, involuntary seizure that sends rivulets of blood squirting across the floor. I watch in horror, my heart pounding in my chest like a jackhammer, as the life drains from him.
A blast of searing heat forces me to duck, the air filled with a swirling vortex of fire and smoke. I cover my head, eyes squeezed shut against the inevitable onslaught of pain that will soon scorch my skin. A faint whisper reaches my ears: "Stay low," someone warns. When I dare to lift my gaze, a sight awaits that I'll never forget—a vision of apocalypse.
Balls of flame engulf the remaining windows on our floor, bathing us in an inferno of hellish reds and oranges as the structure creaks and groans, protesting its own destruction. Through the haze, I spot other victims—my colleagues, friends, and strangers alike—sprawled across the hallways, their bodies disfigured by unimaginable injuries. Some still twitch, their limbs flailing like marionettes on broken strings as the life fades from their eyes.
The heat becomes unbearable, forcing us to crawl along the floor on hands and knees. Flames lick at the ceiling tiles, blackened and crumbling, as if the very fabric of reality is unraveling before my eyes. The acrid stench intensifies, making it hard to breathe. Panic starts to cloud my mind, threatening to overwhelm me.
Suddenly, an ear-splitting roar shakes the building, and the lights flicker out completely. The corridor plunges into total darkness, broken only by the crimson glow of flickering embers and the sporadic flashes of exploding gas lines. I scream involuntarily as a massive section of ceiling collapses somewhere down the hall, showering us with dust and debris.
I cling to the railing for dear life, my knuckles white with fear as the floor beneath us lurches violently. It's like riding a nightmare on a bucking bronco, unsure if this is the final, fatal plunge. The air grows hotter, more charged with an electric tension that seems to crackle across my skin.
My mind races, scrambling to make sense of what's happening. Is this some kind of terrorist attack? A gas leak gone catastrophically wrong? Or is it something far worse—a harbinger of the apocalypse itself? Whatever force unleashed this destruction seems to revel in our suffering, twisting reality into a grotesque parody of itself.
The darkness envelops me like a suffocating shroud, and I'm left with nothing but the rhythmic pounding of my own heart and the macabre sounds of the dying around us. As I crouch there, trembling and helpless amidst the carnage, I realize that this moment has become my own private hell—one from which I may never awaken.
In the flickering darkness, a new realization hits me with brutal force: there might be no escape from this inferno. Not for any of us. And as the building continues its agonized death throes, I can only wait—hopelessly, terrifiedly—for whatever fate awaits us next in this twisted, surreal world.
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.
Windows. Fuck them. Always breaking, always letting in that sweet fucking fresh air right when I need a fucking filter between my lungs and whatever toxic cloud the world has cooked up to choke us.
But not today. Not these windows.
The boom echoed like an artillery round through the 21st floor offices. Glass showered down on me in jagged rain. Shards stuck in my hair, in my scalp. Fucking brilliant. Just fucking fantastic.
The building swayed now, a drunk sailor lurching to one side then the other. Papers rustled on desks like the pages of some mad god's playbook. Someone screamed but I didn't give a shit. Someone always screamed.
I moved behind the nearest cubicle for cover and drew my gun from the shoulder holster underneath my blouse. It's a habit, this carrying of weapons. Born from years in combat zones. Still useful, apparently, even here, where I was supposed to be safe.
Glass continued its deadly sleet from above, the office growing colder by the second. My heart beat against my sternum with a dull thud.
Suddenly, the lights flickered out. Fucking great. Just fucking perfect.
"Get under something!" someone yelled.
I ignored them, crouched low to scan the dim office for threats. A few windows left on the opposite side were intact, though they'd surely be blown too, and soon. Then we'd have no cover at all.
That's when I saw it, lurching out of the darkened stairwell like some fucking revenant. Skin as grey as ash, eyes glowing with an unearthly light. It moved with a fluid, inhuman grace toward the shattered windows, leaving a trail of mangled bodies in its wake.
"What the fuck?" someone breathed behind me.
I turned to glare at the newcomer, my gun still trained on the... whatever it was. "It's fucking hell come home for supper," I muttered, keeping my voice low.
"It can't be real..." someone else whined, close enough that I could smell the pungent fear wafting off them.
I didn't bother to disagree. Real or not, it was moving toward us with a relentless intent. "We need to get out of here before it decides we look good on its menu."
A muffled explosion rocked the floor and sent shards flying from what remained of the windows. The grey abomination paused, turned, and looked right at us. That awful light in its eyes seemed to expand, engulf me.
My gun went off without thought. Once, twice. Hits. I saw it stagger but the fucking thing just kept coming.
I ran for the nearest unbroken window, grabbed a coworker by the arm and pulled her after me. The cold air slapped us hard, sending both of us tumbling out onto the balcony. We scrambled to our feet, pressed back against the wall.
The monster leaned over the edge of the broken glass, its gaze boring into mine. The windows were no protection from it; we might as well have stayed inside and offered ourselves up for slaughter.
"Get down!" someone screamed, but I was already moving, diving away from the railing with a roll across the concrete that scraped my cheek raw.
I scrambled to my feet, yanking my coworker after me. She sobbed and clung to me in panic. The horror had claimed our sanctuary too; now we had nothing.
Another explosion tore through the balcony railing, sending us both sprawling onto the cold floor. I turned to help her up when she shrieked. I followed her gaze to see a twisted, bloody mess of what had been my right leg, severed just below the knee.
I looked at it without surprise, only disgust. Combat taught me to adapt. It was the thing that mattered.
"We need to move," I snarled, using my good leg to drag myself toward the emergency exit door at the far end of the balcony. My coworker hobbled after, her face white and terrified.
The grey monstrosity landed on the balcony with a thud, its unearthly gaze sweeping over us with hunger. It would be upon us soon.
I gripped my gun in my shaking left hand, aimed for its head. Pulled the trigger. Click. Empty. Fucking perfect. Just when I needed bullets least.
It took one step closer.
I let out a curse and shoved myself upright, grabbing the door handle with bloody fingers. The monstrosity reached out to grab us. I wrenched the door open, shoved my coworker through first, then followed close behind as it lunged.
The door slammed shut in its face. We ran down the dim stairwell, our footsteps echoing off the walls, until we burst out into the daylight.
Finally, safety. Or what passed for it in this godforsaken city.
My coworker collapsed on the ground, sobbing and shaking, while I stared back up at the balcony with a grimace of disgust. The fucking monster still had the gun, probably ripping our people apart right now, enjoying its feast.
A bullet whizzed past my ear and lodged in the concrete wall beside me. A man in black tactical gear burst out onto the street from an unmarked van across the road. "Clear!" he shouted. Then another, then another. A team of operatives, all moving fast and silent as ghosts.
The grey horror appeared at the top of the stairs behind us. Its eyes locked on mine again, full of hatred and hunger. Then its skull exploded in a shower of gore from what must have been a sniper's shot.
I felt nothing but relief that it was dead and I wasn't about to become its next meal.
My coworker finally managed to form words, though her voice shook like a leaf. "We need to get out of here... now."
"Agreed," I muttered, hauling myself to my feet with an effort. "Time to find somewhere with better security."
And maybe new legs. Fuck, it hurt. But I was alive. Barely, and beaten, but fucking alive. For now. That's all that mattered. For now.