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:
- Llama 3 instruct and/or Command-R template (Alpaca can be used too)
- Temps of .8 to 4.5 for creative.
- Instructions - especially for prose - like in example #3.
- Can be used with any other parameters / samplers.
- See "L3-Dark-Planet" below for additional settings, suggestions and optional system prompts to enhance operations.
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
merge_method: dare_ties
base_model: Hastagaras/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot
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:
[ 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 ]
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:
- Details about this model and its use case(s).
- Context limits
- Special usage notes / settings.
- Any model(s) used to create this model.
- Template(s) used to access/use this model.
- Example generation(s)
- GGUF quants of this model
Please go to:
[[ coming soon || left side menu under "quantizations" ]]
---
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 duck instinctively, shielding my face with my arms. The blast wave hits me like a punch to the chest, knocking the wind out of me. I stumble backwards, tripping over my own feet as the room spins. When I finally manage to look up again, I'm met with an unholy sight. A figure, tall and gaunt, stands in the gaping hole where the window once was. Its skin is deathly pale, stretched taut over a skeletal frame. Empty eye sockets stare back at me, devoid of any humanity or warmth. The air around it seems to ripple and distort, as if reality itself is bending to accommodate its presence. I try to scream, but my voice catches in my throat. My heart races in my chest, pounding out a frantic rhythm that echoes through my ears. I'm paralyzed with fear, unable to move or look away from the abomination before me. The creature raises a bony hand, and I flinch, expecting it to strike me down. But instead, it points at me, its finger extended like a macabre accusation. A low, guttural voice speaks, echoing in my mind despite the fact that no words are audible to my ears. "You should not have come here," it hisses. "This place is not for the living." I shake my head violently, trying to clear the fog of terror from my mind. This can't be real. It has to be some kind of nightmare or hallucination brought on by stress and exhaustion. But as I look around the room, I realize that everything seems perfectly normal – the furniture, the decor, even the other people in the office seem oblivious to the horror unfolding before me. The creature takes a step closer, its movements jerky and unnatural. I back away, my heels scraping against the carpet as I desperately seek escape. But there's nowhere to run. The door is blocked by a horde of similarly twisted beings, their faces contorted in cruel grins as they advance on me. I'm surrounded, trapped in a living nightmare from which there is no waking up. Panic sets in, and I lash out blindly, swinging my fists at the creatures closing in around me. But they're relentless, their touch like ice as they grab hold of me, dragging me towards the gaping window. As I'm pulled closer to the edge, I catch a glimpse of the city below – a sprawling metropolis bathed in the sickly glow of streetlights and neon signs. It's a stark contrast to the darkness that has consumed this building, and for a moment, I cling to the hope that somehow, someway, I can escape and find safety among the living. But as I'm thrown forward, my body hurtling towards the abyss, I realize that hope is futile. The creatures are too strong, their grip unyielding as they toss me out into the void. Time seems to slow as I plummet towards the ground, the wind tearing at my clothes and hair, my screams lost in the cacophony of chaos. The impact is brutal, my body slamming into the pavement with enough force to shatter bones and crush organs. I lay there, broken and bleeding, as the creatures gather around me once more. Their faces loom above mine, twisted in cruel triumph as they prepare to deliver the final blow. And then, everything goes black. When I come to, I'm lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by sterile white walls and the beeping of machines. A doctor stands over me, his expression grave as he speaks in hushed tones to a nurse. I try to sit up, but a wave of pain washes over me, forcing me back onto the pillow. "What...what happened?" I croak, my voice barely audible. The doctor turns to me, his eyes filled with pity. "You were found unconscious on the street, with severe injuries. We're not sure how you survived, but you're lucky to be alive." I shake my head, trying to clear the fog from my mind. The memories of what happened in that building come flooding back, and I let out a strangled cry. "It wasn't real," I whisper, clinging to the hope that it was all just a terrible dream. "It couldn't have been..." But deep down, I know the truth. Whatever happened in that skyscraper, it was all too real. And now, I'm left to pick up the pieces of my shattered life, haunted by the horrors that lurk in the shadows of my mind. --- 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...
The skyscraper sways, as if drunk from too many cocktails at the rooftop bar, but I know better. A blast, hot and deafening, shatters the glass in front of me like a thousand jagged icicles falling onto concrete. The force propels me backwards against the wall, my spine cracking ominously against the cold steel. My heart thunders in my chest like a panicked rabbit trapped in a snare as I stumble towards the gaping hole that was once a window, glass shards clinging to my hair and clothes like glittering razor blades. The air outside is frigid, an arctic kiss of death, and it stings my lungs as I take a shuddering breath. A maelstrom of chaos swirls beyond the opening: twisted metal, pulverized concrete, and the severed limbs of innocent office workers now strewn across the sidewalk like grotesque dolls discarded by an enraged child. A woman, her eyes wide and sightless, reaches for me with a bloody stump where her hand used to be. I retch at the gruesome sight, but there's no time to vomit or pass out – the screams of my fellow survivors fill the air, desperate cries for help mingled with agonized wails. I glance up, my gaze climbing the steel pillar that supports the floor, and my stomach twists into a nauseous knot. Bodies impale themselves on the sharp metal like lemmings hurling themselves off a cliff, their skin shredding, flesh ripping, and bone splintering as they attempt to escape the burning inferno spreading behind me. Smoke pours through the gaps in the shattered walls, a noxious fog of death and destruction that I can barely breathe through. I turn back to the abyss outside my former sanctuary and take a deep gulp of frosty air, steeling myself for the horror that awaits me below. The plummet is short but sweet agony, my body contorting unnaturally as it attempts to slow its descent by twisting and writhing. The sidewalk rushes up to meet me like an angry sea, and I hit hard enough to shatter several vertebrae. Pain erupts through every nerve ending, but mercifully, I don't feel much else – probably because my consciousness checks out of reality, leaving me adrift in a numb haze of shock and trauma. When my senses gradually return, I'm aware of a voice above me, a siren's wail that's both comforting and terrifying. As my eyes flutter open, I see a pair of gloved hands cradling my broken body, their owner shouting into a phone with an urgency that seems to shake the very foundations of the crumbling skyscraper. "I need a stretcher! We have multiple casualties!" the voice bellows. "Move, move, MOVE!" I try to speak, but all that emerges is a weak rasp. I'm dimly aware of a pair of legs carrying me away from the wreckage, but it's as if I'm observing these events from behind a veil of pain and shock – a ghost trapped in my own body. As I'm wheeled past the jagged remains of the 21st floor window, a fragment of the blast's force still reverberates through my very being, and I feel as though my soul is slowly unraveling, leaving me a hollow husk of fear, regret, and indescribable sorrow. The last thing I remember before succumbing to unconsciousness again is the sight of a man with blood streaming down his face, his eyes locked onto mine with an unspoken plea for survival – and understanding that there will be no escaping this hellish nightmare alive. --- 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 morning air stinks of burning trash and exhaust as I step off the elevator into the 21st floor office, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead. I've seen worse. Worked in tougher shit. But even my jaded eyes widen at what's outside that plate-glass window. Boom! The glass erupts like a volcano, sending shards raining down upon the streets a hundred stories below. I duck instinctively behind a desk, heart thumping like a snare drum. My colleague, Patel, yelps beside me, scrambling for cover. "What the fuck was that?" I peek around the edge of the wood. Below, cars have screeched to a halt in the middle of Fifth Avenue. People run, screaming, clutching their faces. Smoke curls from the impact site. Bombs. Fucking bombs. The building starts to sway like a drunk on a barstool, and my gut drops into my shoes. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Patel grips the desk edge, pale as a ghost. "It's coming down!" he gasps. "No, no, no." I push back from the wreckage, scrambling onto shaky legs. The lights dim again and then die. My phone has no signal, but I know every second counts. "Move," I bark, grabbing Patel by the shoulder and shoving him toward the stairwell door. "We gotta get outta here!" He's shaking like a leaf, eyes rolled back in terror. I give his arm a firm squeeze, forcing him forward. "Look at me, Patel. Breathe deep." We lurch into the dark, dank stairwell, steps echoing like a bad joke as we plunge downward. At every floor, more and more people cram in behind us, sobbing and shrieking. I shoulder through the panic, trying to stay calm. Focus. The fire escape might be faster. But we'd have to navigate broken glass, possible structural damage, and the fucking weather. Snow was falling, obscuring everything. This was New York City. We needed concrete, steel, and luck. The stairwell narrows, a human river choking through the final few floors to freedom. I shove my way against the tide, feeling each person's terror, their desperation like a living thing. We burst out onto the sidewalk, blinded by the snow and chaos. Cars have flipped, glass is everywhere. Shouting. Screaming. And then... The building groans once, twice, and starts to collapse. The concrete facade crumbles into the street like a toppled statue. A rush of searing wind carries the smell of char, and I see it. People. Squashed between hunks of cement, limbs sticking out like broken dolls. I suck in a sharp breath and turn to Patel. He's gone white, his eyes darting wildly from the chaos behind us to the falling debris in front of us. I grab him by both shoulders, yelling over the din. "MOVE! NOW!" We sprint as fast as we can, the snow making every step a fight, each breath a struggle through the stench of fire and smoke. Just when I think we're safe, Patel trips. Goes down hard onto the wet, icy pavement, skin torn open on shattered glass. His scream is abruptly silenced by the impact of falling rubble, a section of steel beam coming straight for us. Everything slows in that moment - my racing heart, my straining lungs, the falling steel. Patel's face contorts into an agonized mask. My arm is stretched out in vain toward him, his hand inches from mine. Time distends, stretching to breaking. And then... Impact. The world turns to fire and screaming. I'm knocked backward, rolled across the street on burning debris, my clothes igniting. Patel's face flickers before me like a dying ember, his eyes wide and pleading as the beam crushes him, folding him in half. I slam into something hard - an abandoned car - and everything goes black. When consciousness returns, I'm choking on blood, snowflakes melting on my skin. The world around me is nothing but twisted metal, shattered concrete, and bodies. Patel's body. I push myself up, vomiting bloody phlegm onto the icy street. Survival. Just survival. That's all that matters. But as I crawl toward the fire escape, the snow falling slower now, the sky bleeding into day, I realize this is just the beginning. The world has gone fucking mad. And we're only seeing the edge of it.