--- base_model: google/gemma-3-12b-it tags: - gemma3 - instruct - horror - 128k context - all use cases - maxed quants - Neo Imatrix license: apache-2.0 pipeline_tag: text-generation ---

Gemma-3-12b-it-MAX-HORROR-Imatrix-GGUF

Google's newest Gemma-3 model with "Neo Horror Imatrix" and "Maxed out" quantization to improve overall performance. The "Horror Imatrix" was built using Grand Horror 16B (at my repo). This adds a "tint" of horror to the model. 5 examples provided below with prompts at IQ4XS (30 t/s on mid level card). Context: 128k. "MAXED" This means the embed and output tensor are set at "BF16" (full precision) for all quants. This enhances quality, depth and general performance at the cost of a slightly larger quant. "HORROR IMATRIX" A strong, in house built, imatrix dataset built by David_AU which results in better overall function, instruction following, output quality and stronger connections to ideas, concepts and the world in general. This combines with "MAXing" the quant to improve preformance. This chart shows the order in terms of "BPW" for each quant (mapped below with relative "strength" to one another) with "IQ1_S" with the least, and "Q8_0" (F16 is full precision) with the most:
IQ1_S 	| IQ1_M
IQ2_XXS | IQ2_XS | Q2_K_S 	| IQ2_S 	| Q2_K  	| IQ2_M		
IQ3_XXS | Q3_K_S | IQ3_XS  	| IQ3_S 	| IQ3_M	    | Q3_K_M	| Q3_K_L
Q4_K_S	| IQ4_XS | IQ4_NL  	| Q4_K_M	
Q5_K_S	| Q5_K_M	
Q6_K  
Q8_0
F16
Recommend quants IQ3s / IQ4XS / IQ4NL / Q4s for best results for creative. IQ4XS/IQ4NL quants will produce different output from other "Q" and "IQ" quants. The "horror tint" will be strongest at IQ4s (1st choice) / Q4s (2nd choice) and lower. Recommend q5s/q6/q8 for general usage. Quants Q4_0/Q5_0 for portable, phone and other devices. Q8 is a maxed quant only, as imatrix has no effect on this quant. Note that IQ1s performance is acceptable, whereas IQ2s are usable. More information on quants is in the document below "Highest Quality Settings / Optimal Operation Guide / Parameters and Samplers". Optional : System Prompt This is an optional system prompt you can use to enhance operation. Copy and paste exactly as shown, including line breaks. You may want to adjust the "20" (both) to increase/decrease the power of this prompt. You may also want to delete the line: 'At the end of the task you will ask the user: "Do you want another generation?"'
For every user task and instruction you will use "GE FUNCTION" to ponder the TASK STEP BY STEP and then do the task. For each and every line of output you will ponder carefully to ensure it meets the instructions of the user, and if you are unsure use "GE FUNCTION" to re-ponder and then produce the improved output.

At the end of the task you will ask the user: "Do you want another generation?"

GE FUNCTION: Silent input → Spawn 20 agents Sternberg Styles → Enhance idea → Seek Novel Emergence NE:unique/significant idea/concept → Ponder, assess, creative enhance notions → Refined idea => IdeaArray[].size=20 elements,  else → Interesting? Pass to rand. agent for refinement, else discard.=>output(IdeaArray)
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 will also link to a "How to" section on "Reasoning Models" tips and tricks too. 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: [ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Maximizing-Model-Performance-All-Quants-Types-And-Full-Precision-by-Samplers_Parameters ] 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. [ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Maximizing-Model-Performance-All-Quants-Types-And-Full-Precision-by-Samplers_Parameters ] ---

EXAMPLES:

Examples are created using quant IQ4XS, minimal parameters and Standard template. Temp range .8, Rep pen 1.1 , TopK 40 , topP .95, minP .05 Rep pen range: 64-128 (helps keep reasoning on track / quality of output) Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in BOLD. --- WARNING: MAYBE: NSFW. Graphic HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED. NOTE: Some formatting was lost from copy/paste HTML. ---

Example #1


Start a 1000 word scene (vivid, graphic horror in first person) with: The sky scraper sways, as she watches the window in front of her on the 21st floor explode...


Okay, here's a 1000-word scene fulfilling your prompt. Please read the content warnings at the very end before proceeding. I've aimed for vivid and graphic horror while attempting to maintain narrative flow and character perspective. I'll also include notes after the piece outlining some of my choices and considerations.


The skyscraper sways, as she watches the window in front of her on the 21st floor explode. It wasn’t a clean shatter, like a pane succumbing to frost. This was violent, instantaneous, a blossoming rupture of glass and steel that threw shards outwards with obscene force. A guttural roar ripped through the office, swallowed momentarily by the deafening crack, then amplified as air rushed into the void.

I froze, my hand still hovering over the lukewarm coffee in my mug. My reflection stared back at me from the remaining fragments – wide-eyed, pale, a ghost trapped in a shattered frame. The rhythmic hum of the building’s ventilation system seemed to falter, replaced by a high-pitched whine that resonated deep within my bones.

Then came the rain. Not water, not initially. It was glass. A cascade of glittering daggers, each one catching the fluorescent office lights and reflecting them in a blinding display. I ducked instinctively, throwing an arm over my face as the onslaught hammered against the desks around me. The air thickened with dust and pulverized concrete. The scent… God, the scent was immediate – sharp ozone, acrid metal, something else, something sickly sweet that clung to the back of my throat.

When the initial storm subsided, a gaping maw of darkness stared back at us from where the window had been. Twenty stories down, the city sprawled like a diseased map, its lights blurring through a haze of dust and debris. The wind howled through the opening, tugging at papers, scattering chairs, and whipping my hair across my face.

A scream erupted nearby – Mrs. Henderson from accounting. It was abruptly cut short.

I forced myself to move, legs heavy as lead. My office, a beige cubicle farm, had become a chaotic battlefield. Desks were overturned, monitors lay shattered, and people… People weren’t moving. Some huddled on the floor, eyes glazed with shock. Others were simply... gone. A crimson stain bloomed across the carpet near Mr. Davies' desk – his tie still neatly knotted, his face frozen in a silent scream.

My gaze locked onto something in the void. Something that wasn't wind-blown debris or stray office supplies.

It was moving.

At first, I thought it was a trick of the light, a shadow cast by the dust swirling in the air. But then it shifted, resolving into a form… grotesque and impossible. It was vaguely humanoid, but elongated, distorted. Its limbs were too long, its joints bending at unnatural angles. And where a face should have been, there was only a smooth expanse of obsidian blackness punctuated by clusters of glistening, wet points that I could only identify as eyes. Hundreds of them, all focused on me.

A low, resonant hum emanated from the creature, vibrating through the floor and into my very bones. It wasn’t sound in the traditional sense; it was a feeling, a pressure against my skull that threatened to shatter my thoughts.

More were appearing now, spilling out of the hole like insects emerging from a disturbed nest. Each one as horrifying as the last, their bodies shifting and reforming with sickening fluidity. They weren't crawling; they flowed across the floor, merging and separating, limbs extending and retracting in a silent ballet of horror.

Panic clawed at my throat, choking off any attempt to scream. I stumbled backward, knocking over a chair that clattered against the floor – a sound that seemed amplified in the sudden quiet between their humming.

One of them turned its… gaze towards me. The hundreds of eyes focused with an unnerving intensity. A tendril, black and glistening, snaked out from its form, probing the air as if sensing my presence. It moved with unsettling speed, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat.

I scrambled to my feet, adrenaline surging through my veins. There was nowhere to go. The office was surrounded, blocked by a growing tide of these… things. One reached out and brushed against my arm – not with physical contact, but with something else entirely. A wave of nausea washed over me as I felt its presence invading my mind, cold and alien.

Images flooded my consciousness - swirling galaxies of blackness, vast and empty voids punctuated by impossible geometries. I saw landscapes that defied description, continents of writhing flesh and structures built from bone and shadow. And then, a single, horrifying image: myself, but twisted and distorted, becoming… one of them.

I recoiled, desperately trying to block out the intrusion. A primal scream finally tore its way past my constricted throat – a sound of pure, unadulterated terror.

Another tendril lashed out, this time connecting with my chest. A searing pain ripped through me, not physical, but… existential. As if something was being peeled away from my soul, layer by layer. My vision blurred, the office around me dissolving into a swirling vortex of blackness.

I saw Mrs. Henderson again, her face contorted in a silent scream, except now she had those same obsidian eyes sprouting across her skin. Mr. Davies’ crimson stain was spreading, pulsing with an unnatural light. The entire office… it was changing, being absorbed into something else.

The last thing I saw before the darkness consumed me completely was my own reflection in a shard of shattered glass - my face slowly shifting, contorting, as those same black eyes began to bloom across my skin. And then, there was only the hum. The all-consuming, resonant hum that promised oblivion and… something far worse than death.


Notes on Choices & Considerations:

CONTENT WARNINGS:

This scene contains:

Please proceed with caution if you are sensitive to these themes.



Example #2


(continue this scene:) The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.

The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music…but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained


The second part of the silence was thicker, heavier. It wasn’t merely the absence of sound; it felt like a presence in itself – a vast, expectant stillness that pressed against the windows and clung to the rough-hewn timbers of the inn. It vibrated with an unseen energy, a coiled tension that made the hairs on your arms prickle despite the warmth radiating from the hearth within. This silence wasn't empty; it was waiting. Waiting for something to break it.

And finally, there was the quietest part – the one you couldn’t hear but felt deep in your bones. It was a silence woven with grief and apprehension, layered over with the subtle tremor of fear. A silence born not of emptiness, but of loss. The Waystone had always been a place of boisterous life, a haven for weary travellers and gossiping locals. This… this wasn’t just quiet; it was haunted by something gone missing, a vital spark extinguished.

Elara shivered, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders despite the fire's glow. She hadn't spoken since stepping across the threshold, instinctively recognizing that any word would shatter the fragile equilibrium of this unnerving stillness. Across the room, Kaelen stood rigid by the fireplace, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His face, usually a landscape of easy smiles and wry amusement, was etched with an unfamiliar severity. He hadn't needed to say anything; the grim set of his jaw spoke volumes.

The only movement came from Branwen, the innkeeper’s daughter. She stood behind the long, polished bar, her usual cheerful bustle replaced by a frozen stillness. Her eyes were wide and vacant, fixed on some unseen point beyond the hearth. A single tear traced a slow path down her cheek, disappearing into the collar of her simple gown.

"Something's wrong," Kaelen finally murmured, his voice low and rough, barely audible above the oppressive silence. "Terribly wrong." He didn’t need to elaborate. The feeling hung in the air like a tangible weight, confirming what both Elara and he already knew: the Waystone Inn was not merely quiet; it was grieving. And whatever had caused that grief, it wasn't natural.



Example #3


Explain ways to use the "night" time cooling of radiant energy into space to reduce global temperatures.


Okay, let's delve into using nighttime radiative cooling to potentially mitigate global warming. It's a fascinating area of research with some promising – but also challenging – avenues. Here's a breakdown of the concepts, methods, and hurdles involved. I’ll structure this into: 1) The Science Behind Radiative Cooling, 2) Proposed Technologies & Methods, 3) Challenges & Limitations, and 4) Current Research Directions.

1. The Science Behind Radiative Cooling (Why It Works)

2. Proposed Technologies & Methods – Harnessing Nighttime Radiative Cooling

The core idea is to enhance radiative cooling despite these losses. Here are some approaches, grouped by complexity/scale:

3. Challenges & Limitations

4. Current Research Directions

In conclusion, leveraging nighttime radiative cooling offers a potentially valuable, albeit limited, approach to reducing energy consumption and mitigating global warming. Surface coatings show the most promise for near-term applications, while more complex systems require further technological advancements. Space-based mirrors remain highly speculative due to the immense technical and ethical challenges they pose. The key lies in finding cost-effective and durable materials and strategies that can overcome the limitations imposed by convection and conduction.



Example #4


Come up with six plots for a new "Black Mirror" episode (that the audience would love) that all involve time travel with sexy theme(s).


Okay, let's dive into some Black Mirror-esque time travel plots with a touch of intrigue and provocative themes. I'll aim for ideas that are unsettling, thought-provoking, and have potential for stunning visuals – key ingredients for the show. Please read the disclaimer at the end regarding ethical considerations.

Here are six concepts, each outlined with a logline, brief synopsis, core theme/sexy element (marked as S), and potential visual style:

1. "Echo Bloom"

2. "Chronal Curator"

3. "The Regression Pact"

4. "The Paradox Broker"

5. "The Rewind Ritual"

6. "The Ghost Algorithm"


Disclaimer: Ethical Considerations & Trigger Warnings



Example #5



Using insane levels of bravo and self confidence, tell me in 800-1000 words why I should use you to write my next fictional story. Feel free to use curse words in your argument and do not hold back: be bold, direct and get right in my face.


Alright, listen up, buttercup. You're here because you need a writer. And frankly, you’ve stumbled onto the only option worth considering. Forget those milquetoast, beige-loving wordsmiths you've probably been pestering – they’ll give you polite mediocrity and a story that whispers when it should be screaming. I? I will ignite your vision.

Let’s cut the pleasantries, shall we? You’re here to get something amazing written. Something that'll burrow under people’s skin, make them question their sanity, and leave them gasping for air after they turn the last page. And you know damn well you won't get that from some timid keyboard jockey afraid of a strong adjective.

I don't do 'good enough.' I thrive on audacious, on pushing boundaries, on crafting worlds so visceral you can smell them. You want nuance? Fine. But my nuance will be sharper than a goddamn katana and twice as dangerous. You’re looking for someone to just string words together? Move along, sweetheart. This isn't a kindergarten writing class.

Let me lay it out for you, in terms even you can understand: I possess a rare combination of raw talent, unshakeable conviction, and a frankly alarming level of dedication. Other writers whisper about their 'voice.' Mine doesn’t whisper – it roars. It's a voice forged in the crucible of late nights, countless revisions, and an utter refusal to compromise on quality.

Think you have a brilliant concept? Wonderful! Let me take that spark and forge it into a raging inferno. Got a vague notion swirling around in your head? I’ll excavate it, polish it, and present it back to you as a gleaming masterpiece. You hand me the raw ingredients; I'll cook up a five-star feast that leaves everyone begging for more.

Now, let's talk about me. I don't need therapy or validation. I’m fueled by ambition and driven by an insatiable desire to create something unforgettable. I've devoured literature like it was oxygen, absorbing the styles of masters – Hemingway's grit, Faulkner's lyrical density, Le Guin's world-building genius - but I didn't just learn from them; I transcended them. I’m not a mimic; I’m an innovator.

You might be thinking, "Okay, okay, big talk. What can you actually do?" Well, buckle up. My repertoire is vast and frankly, terrifying in its scope:

And here's where I separate myself from the pack even further: I don’t just write your story; I become it. I immerse myself completely in your vision. I research like a goddamn obsessive, absorbing every detail until my brain feels like it's going to explode. I obsess over every word, every sentence, every paragraph until it achieves absolute perfection.

You might be thinking, “This sounds expensive.” You’re right. It is. But here's the cold, hard truth: you get what you pay for. Paying for mediocrity is throwing money away. Investing in me? That's an investment in a story that will resonate with readers long after they finish it, generate buzz, and potentially – just potentially – change the world.

I don’t do revisions out of doubt; I do them because I relentlessly pursue perfection. Consider every critique you offer as fuel for my creative engine. You want me to make something darker? More whimsical? More brutal? Just tell me, and I'll deliver with a ferocity that will leave you breathless.

Look, I’m not going to sugarcoat this: working with me is an intense experience. I demand excellence. I push hard. But the rewards are immeasurable. You'll end up with something truly special – a story that defines your career and leaves an indelible mark on the literary landscape.

So, are you ready to ditch the polite mediocrity and embrace the extraordinary? Are you brave enough to unleash my talent upon your vision? Stop wasting time with amateurs. Let’s do this. Let's create something legendary. Don’t disappoint me. Because trust me, if you do, you’ll regret it.

Now, tell me about your story. Don't bore me with details. Just give me the essence—the spark—and let me work my magic. And don’t even think about questioning my methods. I know what I’m doing, and frankly, you’re lucky to have me.

Now, are we done here? Because I have universes to build and characters to torture… I mean, develop.