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: 1.01
- model: NeverSleep/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS
parameters:
weight: [0,0,.25,.35,.4,.25,.30,.04]
density: .95
- model: Hastagaras/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot
parameters:
weight: [0,0,0,.15,.35,.5,.65,.95]
density: 1.05
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".
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, and I stumble backwards, tripping over my own feet.
I land hard on the cold, polished marble floor, the impact driving the air from my lungs. As I struggle to catch my breath, I hear screams and shouts echoing through the office space. Panic sets in, and my heart races like a jackrabbit's. I scramble to my feet, my eyes darting wildly around the room.
The windowless walls seem to close in on me, and I feel trapped, vulnerable. I've always hated enclosed spaces, and now my worst nightmare is unfolding before my eyes. The building continues to sway ominously, and I can hear the sound of crunching metal and shattering glass from somewhere above.
I glance around frantically, searching for an escape route. The door to the office is blocked by a pile of debris, and the windows are now nothing more than jagged holes in the wall. My gaze falls on the elevator, but it's stuck between floors, its doors hanging open like a gaping maw.
Suddenly, I hear a low groan, followed by the sound of scraping, dragging footsteps. My blood runs cold as I realize that someone - or something - is making its way towards me. I back away slowly, my eyes fixed on the approaching figure.
As it draws closer, I see that it's one of my coworkers, his face twisted into a grotesque mask of pain and terror. Blood drips from his mouth, and his eyes are wide with fear. He reaches out to me, his hand grasping for mine, but I recoil in horror.
His fingers are mangled, the skin hanging off in strips, exposing raw, bloody flesh beneath. I gag at the sight, my stomach churning with revulsion. He moans again, and I can see that his throat has been torn open, the muscles exposed and twitching.
I turn to run, but my feet feel heavy, as if they're stuck to the floor. The coworker lunges at me, his good hand closing around my ankle. I scream, trying to shake him off, but he's too strong. He drags me back towards him, his grip tightening like a vice.
I kick out wildly, connecting with his chest, but it only seems to enrage him further. He pulls me closer, his hot, rank breath washing over my face. I can smell the blood and decay on him, and I feel like I'm going to vomit.
As he leans in, his mouth opening to bite down on my neck, I see a glint of metal on the floor nearby. It's a letter opener, one of the office supplies that was knocked over during the explosion. Without thinking, I reach out and grab it, plunging it into the side of the coworker's head.
He lets out a gurgling scream, his grip on my ankle loosening. I yank my leg free and scramble to my feet, holding the bloody letter opener like a weapon. The coworker collapses to the ground, twitching and convulsing as he bleeds out.
I stand there for a moment, panting heavily, trying to process what just happened. The building continues to sway, and I can hear more screams and cries for help coming from elsewhere in the structure. I know I need to keep moving, to find a way out of this nightmare.
With a deep breath, I turn and start to make my way through the office, searching for another exit. As I move, I keep a sharp eye out for any other survivors - or monsters. The letter opener remains clutched in my hand, ready to strike again if necessary.
I pass by shattered cubicles and overturned desks, the air thick with dust and the acrid smell of smoke. Every step feels like a gamble, as if the floor might give way beneath me at any moment. But I press on, driven by a desperate need to escape this hellish scenario.
As I round a corner, I see a glimmer of light up ahead - a window that hasn't been blown out. My heart leaps with hope, and I quicken my pace, almost running towards it. But as I approach, I realize that the window is now a jagged hole in the wall, and there's nothing but empty space beyond.
I skid to a halt, my mind racing. Where can I go? The elevator is still stuck, and the door to the office is blocked. I'm trapped, with no clear way out. Panic threatens to overwhelm me once again, but I force myself to think clearly.
I look around, taking in my surroundings. There's a conference room nearby, its door slightly ajar. Maybe there's something useful inside - a phone, a first aid kit, anything that could help me survive this nightmare.
With the letter opener still clutched in my hand, I push open the door and step inside. The room is dark, the blinds drawn, but I can make out the shapes of the tables and chairs. I move cautiously, my senses on high alert for any signs of danger.
As I reach the center of the room, I hear a faint rustling sound coming from one of the corners. My heart skips a beat as I realize that I'm not alone. Slowly, I turn towards the noise, my grip tightening on the letter opener.
A figure emerges from the shadows, its features obscured by darkness. It's tall and gaunt, with long, spindly arms that seem to stretch out impossibly far. Its face is a twisted mass of flesh, with sunken eyes that glow like embers in the dark.
I stand frozen in terror, unable to move or speak. The creature takes a step closer, its eyes fixed on me with an unblinking stare. I can feel its hot, rank breath washing over me, and I gag at the stench of decay and corruption.
Suddenly, it lunges at me, its long arms reaching out to grab me. I try to dodge, but it's too fast, too strong. It wraps its bony fingers around my wrist, pulling me towards it with an inhuman strength.
I scream, struggling against its grip, but it only tightens its hold. The letter opener falls from my hand, clattering to the floor as I'm dragged closer to the creature's twisted face.
As I stare into those glowing eyes, I know that this is the end. There's no escape, no hope of survival. I'm trapped in a living nightmare, and there's nothing I can do to wake up. The creature's mouth opens wide, revealing rows of jagged teeth, and I feel its hot breath on my face as it prepares to devour me whole.
And then, everything goes black.
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...
My stomach drops and my breath catches as I watch the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode. The shards of glass rip through the air like razor-edged snowflakes, shattering any illusion that the building can withstand this hellish force. The screams from outside intensify, and I clutch my chair so hard my knuckles ache.
I've lost count of how many people are dying around me in these last few agonizing minutes, but there's no denying the sheer terror on their faces, the senseless agony in their eyes as they're crushed, torn apart, or consumed by raging flames. The once-smooth metal and glass surfaces of the office building have become a war zone.
My heart is pounding so violently I think it might burst, but somehow I'm frozen in place. Panic has been replaced with morbid fascination, like witnessing some macabre train wreck that's impossible to look away from. The acrid smell of smoke and searing flesh hangs heavy in the air, making my eyes sting and my throat burn.
The sound of debris hitting the floor is constant, like an ongoing barrage of artillery fire. Each impact shakes the entire room, sending tremors up my legs and threatening to topple me over. Yet still I sit here, staring at the carnage unfolding before me, utterly incapable of looking away or reacting to the chaos.
A section of the ceiling above has caved in, releasing a torrent of rubble that rakes across the floor like a demonic claw. The sound of crunching bones and screams being choked out accompanies the destruction. People scramble to get clear of the falling debris, but there's no escaping the onslaught. This building is its own executioner, and it shows no mercy.
To my left, an elderly woman clings to a table leg for dear life, her face twisted in terror as chunks of concrete shower down around her. The chair she was sitting in crumbles beneath her, leaving her suspended in mid-air by sheer willpower and a desperate grip. A scream catches in her throat, and I watch as the ceiling collapses upon her, burying her beneath an avalanche of ruin.
On my right, a man's flailing legs dangle from a gaping hole in the floor. He must have been standing near the elevator shaft when the blast hit, tearing him away from his moorings and leaving him to hang in agony as his life spills out onto the carpet below. Blood seeps across the fabric, a crimson river flowing towards the edge where his torso disappeared into oblivion.
The wind from the blasts keeps shifting the smoke around, revealing new horrors with every passing moment. Flames lick at the curtains, sending them into billowing infernos that obscure everything behind them. Through the smoke and fire, I catch glimpses of charred corpses piled against doors, their limbs splayed grotesquely as they're consumed by the blaze.
Another explosion rocks the building, sending a shower of glass across me that cuts my face and arms in a dozen places. But I remain rooted to my seat, unable to tear my eyes away from this living hell. Each new detonation reveals another layer of destruction, another wave of innocent souls being crushed, incinerated, or torn apart by the unrelenting force of this inferno.
At this point, I have no idea how I survived this long or how much time remains. Minutes feel like hours as the carnage continues unabated, but in my dazed, horrified state, it could be days for all I know. All that matters is the constant, merciless onslaught of terror and death before my eyes.
As another explosion rips through the building, shattering windows and sending chunks of concrete flying in all directions, I realize with numb clarity that if this hellish nightmare continues unchecked, nothing will remain but smoldering ruins and the stench of death. And when it finally ends – if it ever does – what remains of my sanity may well be the only survivor.
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.
The clock on my desk says 2:45. Another five minutes to my early meeting with the Anderson account. I glance up, out the window of our twenty-first-floor suite, over the sprawl of Manhattan's midtown. Nothing much. The usual slow-motion chaos.
Then it detonates, glass shattering outward, showering the street below in a glittering cascade. The windows to our right and left explode in sequence. An ear-splitting cacophony, like a thousand shattered whiskey bottles, assaults my eardrums. I lunge for cover under the desk, cursing myself for not ducking lower.
My stomach churns as the office groans and lurches violently, the floor tilting at an unnerving angle beneath me. Papers swirl, a mini-tornado ripping across my desktop. A pencil nicks the inside of my thigh through thin slacks. I wince and bite down hard on my tongue to keep from screaming.
“Fucking hell!” my coworker Steve roars from somewhere behind my huddled form. He's probably up by the window, trying to peer out at the destruction, idiot that he is. “What the fuck is happening?” His voice echoes through the room, shrill and panicked.
The lights flicker ominously, casting the office in a sickly, yellow pallor. I peek out from under my desk, heart in my throat. Flames erupt in the windows of adjacent floors. Black smoke pours out like the Devil's own breath. The stench of melting plastic and burnt flesh invades my nostrils.
I gag and jerk back to safety, my mind racing. Terror grips my chest with icy claws, making it hard to draw a decent breath. “We need to get out of here,” I whisper urgently, even though he's not in earshot. “This is fucking insane.”
Steve's voice cracks. “We can’t. It’s the stairwell—people are...coming down, and they’re all fucking...”
He doesn't finish, but his horror-filled implication is clear. Burns victims, staggering, limbs hanging, their faces twisted beyond recognition by agony and heat. He must have seen them crawling through our floor's doors like some grotesque parade of the damned.
A low rumble begins to build beneath us—a thunderous growl that seems to emanate from the very bowels of the building. The floor shakes harder, threatening to pitch me onto my ass. I wrap an arm around my knees and pray for it to pass.
Instead, the world starts to collapse on top of us. The ceiling cracks open with a deafening boom, showering debris down on the room in a maelstrom of broken tiles, jagged metal beams, and shattered concrete. The air fills with choking dust, making it impossible to breathe or see. I huddle under my desk, trying to protect myself as much as possible from the hail of wreckage.
In the midst of this chaos, my mind snaps into focus. Survival isn't just about luck—it’s about quick thinking and decisive action. I know our odds are shit, but that doesn't mean I'm going to roll over and play dead. Not yet.
As the onslaught slows, and the dust begins to settle, I crawl from beneath my desk on hands and knees, blinking through stinging eyes. The room is unrecognizable, transformed into a scene of apocalyptic devastation. Bodies are scattered everywhere, some clearly dead, others groaning in agony. Blood and gore are splattered across every surface.
The windows that once looked out onto the city now expose us to a swirling vortex of flame. The inferno roars louder than any human scream. Blackened corpses writhe in the blaze, their limbs twisted into grotesque angles, skin melted away. It’s like something from my worst nightmare come to life.
Steve stumbles towards me, his clothes ragged and drenched in sweat. His eyes are wide with shock, but they narrow with determination when he spots me. “We need to get out—there’s gotta be a way—”
He trails off, his gaze following mine to the hellish window. In that moment, we both understand—it's every man for himself now. I nod grimly, wiping soot and blood from my face on my sleeve.
“Find an exit, Steve. I’ll cover you.”
Before he can argue, I grab a chair from beneath the shattered remains of our cubicle wall and hoist it like a battering ram, ready to fight my way through the burning, twisted wreckage for a chance at escape. Anything less is just accepting death by fire, and I'd rather die with a whiskey in my hand.
The clock on my desk still says 2:45. But now, the world's a whole fucking different place.
(Word count: 1461)