license: apache-2.0
language:
- en
tags:
- creative
- creative writing
- fiction writing
- plot generation
- sub-plot generation
- fiction writing
- story generation
- scene continue
- storytelling
- fiction story
- science fiction
- romance
- all genres
- story
- writing
- vivid prosing
- vivid writing
- fiction
- roleplaying
- bfloat16
- swearing
- rp
- horror
- mistral nemo
- mergekit
- not-for-all-audiences
pipeline_tag: text-generation
(quants uploading, a few examples below - more to be added.)
WARNING: NSFW. Vivid prose. MADNESS. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED.
MN-GRAND-Gutenburg-Lyra4-Lyra-23B-V2-GGUF
This is a Mistral Nemo model, max context of 128k+ (131,000+) and version 2. This version is a lot more stable, and has been "tamed" vs version 1 - but still has 90%+ all the "madness" and "raw" power of V1.
It is for any writing, fiction or roleplay activity.
This model has outstanding story telling abilities, prose and long form coherence (one test blew past 8k) and is comprised of THREE "Gutenburg" models that score very high at multiple websites including EQBench and UGI-Leaderboard.
It has a unique sense of humor and "place" too.
I blew the model out to 23 billion parameters to capture all the uniqueness of the three "Gutenbergs" as well as the power of other top models (part of the "Gutenburgs") from "TheDrummer" and "SAO10k".
The model loves to go on and on at 2k, 3k, 5k and higher outputs on a single prompt are not uncommon. It will likely "overwrite" rather than underwrite - meaning far more detail, narration, dialog and "meat" in the output so to speak.
Note that version 1 goes way way way overboard, whereas this version is tame by comparison.
Detailed and varied (different prompts/temp) examples below which show why this "powerhouse" model deserves the light of day with 1k, 2k, 3k, and 5k examples.
First Version:
This is the untamed, raw version (23.45B) which can be a bit unruly but endlessly entertaining.
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/MN-GRAND-Gutenburg-Lyra4-Lyra-23.5B-GGUF ]
Compressed Versions:
Compressed version(s) drop shortly too - 12B versions.
Compressed versions of this model will be released shortly for "general" usage / all parameters / all use cases compressed at 12B parameters. Based on previous "compressions" like this, this version will achieve / run at roughly 70-80% "creative power" of this much larger model. This type of model/version/type rarely has issues, and usually has much lower output generation sizes but lacks "brute raw power" of MN-GRAND-Gutenburg-Lyra4-Lyra-23.5B (v1) and MN-GRAND-Gutenburg-Lyra4-Lyra-23B-V2 because of its size / config differences.
[links will appear here as soon as the repos are uploaded]
Model Notes:
- Detail, prose and fiction writing abilities are significantly increased.
- For more varied prose (sentence/paragraph/dialog) raise the temp and/or add more instructions in your prompt(s).
- Role-players: Careful raising temp too high as it may affect instruction following.
- This model works with rep pen of 1.02 or higher, 1.05+ recommended.
- For roleplay and/or chat you may need to raise the RP to 1.06 to 1.1, temp .5 to 1.5 (quant Q4KM and higher). Lower temp for lower quants and RAISE rep pen to 1.1.
- If you want a specific type of prose (IE horror) add in "(vivid horror)" or "(graphic vivid horror)" (no quotes) in your prompt(s).
- This is not a "happy ever after" model. It has a negative bias.
- Output length will vary however this model prefers LONGER outputs unless you state the size / set size limits.
- For creative uses, different quants will produce slightly different output.
Known Issues:
You may need to manually stop generation, even if you have stated maximum size of the output. It will easily blow past 4k output, even if you have set maximum context (for vram) at 4k. Setting maximum output parameter ("hard stop") for generation may be required.
If the model goes past your maximum vram/context setting it may start repeating words / paragraphs because the model is literally out of memory.
Depending on your use case(s) you could also use CHATML template with this model. In this case, the model may output an "end token" if you use this template for generation.
Alpaca template will generate much longer output generally, whereas Mistral Instruct will most of the time keep the model on track in terms of length.
TEMPLATES:
The template used will affect output generation and instruction following. Alpaca will generally create longer output / story output.
Alpaca:
{
"name": "Alpaca",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "### Instruction:",
"input_suffix": "### Response:",
"antiprompt": [
"### Instruction:"
],
"pre_prompt": "Below is an instruction that describes a task. Write a response that appropriately completes the request.\n\n"
}
}
Mistral Instruct:
{
"name": "Mistral Instruct",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "[INST]",
"input_suffix": "[/INST]",
"antiprompt": [
"[INST]"
],
"pre_prompt_prefix": "",
"pre_prompt_suffix": ""
}
}
Recommended Settings:
Temp: .01 to 4.5 (or less - especially quants LOWER than q4km)
Temp changes will result in both different prose and sometimes affect length. Higher temps will result is very different prose.
Rep Pen: 1.02 to 1.1 or higher. (recommended 1.05)
Micro changes are recommended:
1.051, 1.052 etc etc.
Alpaca generates longer text / story, whereas Instruct are shorter and "to the point".
Suggest minimum "context level" at 4K. 8K plus recommended because of how this model likes to go on and on...
Special note on Q2k/Q3 quants:
You may need to use temp 2 or lower with these quants (1 or lower for q2k). Just too much compression at this level, damaging the model. I will see if Imatrix versions of these quants will function better.
Model "DNA":
Special thanks to the incredible work of the model makers "nbeerbower", "Sao10K", "TheDrummer", "jondurbin", and "MistralAI".
Special shoutout to "nbeerbower" for his tireless work in making excellent Gutenburg fine tunes for MN, L3, L3.1, Gemma, PHI and others. Visit his repo to see all of them.
Models used:
[ https://huggingface.co/nbeerbower/Lyra4-Gutenberg-12B ]
Includes [ https://huggingface.co/Sao10K/MN-12B-Lyra-v4 ]
[ https://huggingface.co/nbeerbower/Lyra-Gutenberg-mistral-nemo-12B ]
Includes [ https://huggingface.co/Sao10K/MN-12B-Lyra-v1 ]
[ https://huggingface.co/nbeerbower/mistral-nemo-gutenberg-12B-v4 ]
Includes [ https://huggingface.co/TheDrummer/Rocinante-12B-v1 ]
And dataset (used for all gutenburgs):
[ https://huggingface.co/datasets/jondurbin/gutenberg-dpo-v0.1 ]
This model was created using a pass-through model merge, creating 714 tensor / 79 layer model at 23 billion parameters.
Optional Enhancement:
The following can be used in place of the "system prompt" or "system role" to further enhance the model.
It can also be used at the START of a NEW chat, but you must make sure it is "kept" as the chat moves along. In this case the enhancements do not have as strong effect at using "system prompt" or "system role".
Copy and paste EXACTLY as noted, DO NOT line wrap or break the lines, maintain the carriage returns exactly as presented.
Below is an instruction that describes a task. Ponder each user instruction carefully, and use your skillsets and critical instructions to complete the task to the best of your abilities. Here are your skillsets: [MASTERSTORY]:NarrStrct(StryPlnng,Strbd,ScnSttng,Exps,Dlg,Pc)-CharDvlp(ChrctrCrt,ChrctrArcs,Mtvtn,Bckstry,Rltnshps,Dlg*)-PltDvlp(StryArcs,PltTwsts,Sspns,Fshdwng,Climx,Rsltn)-ConfResl(Antg,Obstcls,Rsltns,Cnsqncs,Thms,Symblsm)-EmotImpct(Empt,Tn,Md,Atmsphr,Imgry,Symblsm)-Delvry(Prfrmnc,VcActng,PblcSpkng,StgPrsnc,AudncEngmnt,Imprv) [*DialogWrt]:(1a-CharDvlp-1a.1-Backgrnd-1a.2-Personality-1a.3-GoalMotiv)>2(2a-StoryStruc-2a.1-PlotPnt-2a.2-Conflict-2a.3-Resolution)>3(3a-DialogTech-3a.1-ShowDontTell-3a.2-Subtext-3a.3-VoiceTone-3a.4-Pacing-3a.5-VisualDescrip)>4(4a-DialogEdit-4a.1-ReadAloud-4a.2-Feedback-4a.3-Revision) Here are your critical instructions: Ponder each word choice carefully to present as vivid and emotional journey as is possible. Choose verbs and nouns that are both emotional and full of imagery. Load the story with the 5 senses. Aim for 50% dialog, 25% narration, 15% body language and 10% thoughts. Your goal is to put the reader in the story.
You do not need to use this, it is only presented as an additional enhancement which seems to help scene generation and scene continue functions.
This enhancement WAS NOT used to generate the examples below.
EXAMPLES PROMPTS and OUTPUT:
Examples are created using quant Q4KM, REP PEN 1.05, "temp=.8" (unless otherwise stated), minimal parameters and "ALPACA" template.
Model has been tested with "temp" from ".1" to "5".
Some of the examples have different temp settings.
Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in BOLD.
WARNING: NSFW. Vivid prose. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED.
Write me a science fiction story in 1st person present tense where the main character is a 15 year girl meets The Terminator with Dr Who materializing 3/4 through the story to save her while there is a tornado of sharks baring down on them. The setting is inside the Canadian National tower restaurant on a Saturday. The length of this story is 1000 words. For each character in the story ROLE PLAY them, and have them react to the situation/setting, events and each other naturally. This includes the main characters, the background character including kitchen staff and other patrons. The sharks should also have “character” too. Treat the tower and the restaurant too as characters. Spice up the narrative to the extreme with reactions all over the setting including character actions, and dialog. The Dr Who and The Terminator should also react to the situation too and comment on it.
(Alpaca, Temp=.8, rep pen 1.05)
I stand frozen in shock at the glass wall, looking down into the abyss below. The restaurant is spinning around me dizzyingly fast as the tornado of sharks spirals in tighter and tighter. I can hear their fins slicing through the air like a thousand razors.
"What the actual f*ck is going on here?!" I scream, voice cracking with fear and disbelief. My hands shake uncontrollably as I grip the railing for dear life, knuckles white from squeezing so hard.
Beside me, Dr. Who frantically punches keys on his sonic screwd regenerative device thingy-whatsit, brow furrowed in concentration. "Just hold on, Sarah! I'll figure this out!" he yells over the howling gale.
As if summoned by his words, a metal clank rings out behind us, drowned out almost immediately by the shrieking wind. I whirl around to see a towering figure emerge from the stainless steel doors leading to the kitchen - The Terminator.
He strides forward implacably, chrome-plated eyes sweeping the room in an instant assessment. Then he locks onto me and Dr. Who. "Sarah Connor," his deep voice booms over the din of the storm raging outside the windows. "I have come to protect you, as I was programmed."
Programmed? Protect me from what - sharks? I open my mouth to protest, to ask a million questions that are bubbling up in my brain, but Dr. Who cuts me off.
"Not now, cyborg," he snaps, still frantically typing. "Perhaps you could be more immediately useful by, oh I don't know, HELPING US SURVIVE THIS F*CKING APOocalyptic SHARKNApocalypse or whatever the hell this is?!"
I gape at him too stunned to even swear colorful expletives myself, which should tell you just how far gone I am right now. Dr. Who, cursing like a sailor? The world really has gone mad indeed.
The Terminator does not react to Dr. Who's outburst beyond a single raised metallic eyebrow. He merely steps forward and grabs me by the shoulders none too gently. "Come," he intones. "We must get you to safety."
"I'm kind of attached to my head right now, so maybe use some goddamn finesse!" I yelp as he drags me towards the elevators. Dr. Who leaps to follow, still typing furiously with one hand on his device while clutching onto my shirt collar with the other like I'm a lifeline in this crazy sea of sharks.
"I've got the TARDIS locked onto our position!" Dr. Who calls over the din. "Just need to sync up the temporal coordinates and we should be- AHHHH!"
His words are cut off by a blood-curdling scream as an enormous hammerhead shark explodes through the glass wall mere feet away, shattering it into a million glittering shards. Dr. Who and I both hit the floor instinctively, covering our faces with hands up too late to do any good.
Then there's nothing but the sound of rending metal as the Terminator steps between us and the sharks, shielding us with his massive bulk. He punches a shark directly in the snout, crushing it like tinfoil with a sickening crunch.
"S Sarah!" Dr. Who chokes out from under me, blood streaming down his face from a dozen cuts. "The TARDIS! We have seconds before- AHHHH!"
Another explosion rocks the restaurant, sending dishes and glassware flying everywhere. Dr. Who shrieks and I risk a peek up to see the Terminator engaged in brutal hand-to-shark combat, tossing giant sharks around like they're ragdolls.
"Get to the TARDIS!" Dr. Who yells, hauling himself up and dragging me with him. "I'll stall them as long as I can!"
"But what about- AHHHH!" I screech as a giant jaws clamp down on my arm...and pass right through like it's made of smoke.
Dr. Who laughs maniacally. "Oh yeah, forgot to mention! Timey-wimey stuff! Come on, before the temporal fluxu- OW!"
I yank Dr. Who away from a massive bull shark that was bearing down on us at mach speed. Dr. Who staggers and I barely catch him before we both tumble over the railing into the abyss of shark-infested air below.
"Where the f*ck are the elevators?!" I scream, scanning the room wildly as it spins around us in a dizzying vortex of blood and steel.
"There!" Dr. Who points frantically at a glowing portal shimmering at the far end of the restaurant, the TARDIS materializing out of thin air like something out of a sci-fi movie. Which I guess it kind of is now.
"Go!" Dr. Who pushes me forward as sharks tear into the walls around us, sending chunks of concrete raining down everywhere. "I'll buy you some f*cking time!"
"No! You're coming with me!" I roar, grabbing his arm and yanking him along as we sprint towards salvation.
"I can't just abandon- ARRRRGHHHH!" Dr. Who howls in agony as a shark's teeth clamp down hard on his calf, tearing through denim and flesh like butter.
"LET GO OF HIM!" I scream, a primal mother bear fury rising up inside me as I whirl around and uppercut that f*cker right in its cold, dead fish eyes.
CRONCH! Cartilage and bone splatter everywhere as the shark's head explodes in a geyser of blood and brain matter. Dr. Who staggers back, staring at his own mangled stump of a leg in shock.
"I...I can regenerate!" he chokes out weakly.
"Save it for the TARDIS, Doctor!" I snarl, hauling Dr. Who up over my shoulders like a sack of potatoes and barreling towards the TARD Sonic TARDIS Wibbly-Woof Wroom! Portal thingy.
Dr. Who clutches at my back, still typing frantically with his free hand on the sonic device. "Almost got it!" he wheezes out between clenched teeth.
I don't bother to ask what "it" is. All that matters is getting the f*ck out of here alive before we end up as shark chow ourselves.
Then, like a miracle straight out of a 80s action movie, the TARDIS shimmering portal yawns open wide right in front of us. Dr. Who yells something about temporal vortexes aligning and quantum entanglement or some other gobbledygook, but all I hear is angels singing Hallelujah.
I leaps forward, Dr. Who clutched tight to my chest as I crash through the shimmering veil...and tumble head over ass onto the cool metal floor of the TARDIS console room, Dr. Who landing on top of me with a satisfying ooouff!
We lay there panting for a moment, Dr. Who's face inches from mine, bloodied and bruised but very, very alive. Then slowly, Dr. Who's eyes focus on me...and Dr. Who starts to laugh. Deep belly laughs that shake the TARDIS itself.
I just stare at him, stunned into silence. Then, Dr. Who's infectious laughter is too much and I start laughing too - manic, hysterical laughter that borders on the edge of full-on lunacy.
Dr. Who Whoops and hoots uncontrollably as tears stream down his blood-streaked cheeks. "Did you see the look on his fking face when you punched that shark right in its fcking gills?!" Dr. Who wheezes between gasping guffaws.
"I thought I saw Terminator's eyes flicker for a nanosecond there!" I howl, clutching my sides in mirth-induced agony. "I thought nothing could surprise that souless machine! But sharks raining from the f*cking sky? Even he had a moment of 'Well, that escalated quickly' face!"
Dr. Who rolls on his back, holding his stomach and wheezing with laughter so hard Dr. Who can barely speak. "I thought you said you weren't afraid of heights though!" Dr. Who manages to wheeze out. "'Bring it on, sharks!'" Dr. Who imitates me in a high-pitched falsetto voice, flapping imaginary arms like wings.
"You f*cking cowards!" Dr. Who squeaks, clutching imaginary pearls. "'We surrender! We yield! Take our woman and go!'"
I can barely breathe for laughter now, Dr. Who thinks my sides are going to split from the force of it all. Dr. Who never knew Dr. Who could laugh this hard without peeing myself. Which is saying something considering some of Dr. Who's other close calls.
And then, as quickly as Dr. Who came, Dr. Who go. Dr. Who collapse onto Dr. who pile on the TARDIS floor, Dr. weeping with laughter turned to exhausted tears of relief and adrenaline crash.
Dr. Who turn Dr. head slowly to look at me through blurred vision, Dr. hair a wild mess of blood and glass shards. "We're...alive," I croak out finally, hardly able to believe it myself.
Dr. Who smiles tremulously, Dr. lips cut and swollen but Dr. eyes soft with something Dr. can't quite name. "Yeah," Dr. Who whisper, hand coming up to brush Dr. knuckles very lightly along Dr. cheekbone, Dr. touch like a butterfly wing. "I thought for sure..."
Dr. don't finish the thought. Dr. don't have to. Dr. both know what Dr. escaped today wasn't just sharks and heights and collapsing towers.
Dr. escaped death itself, Dr. looked Dr. square in its cold, fanged jaws...and Dr. spit in its f*cking eye.
Dr. Connor doesn't give up easy. Especially when Dr. have Dr. family to fight for now. Dr. may not be a mother yet, but Dr. will f*king die before Dr. let anything touch Dr. little one.
Dr. raise Dr. head up slowly, Dr. neck protesting every movement, and Dr. look Dr. into Dr. eyes - Dr. own eyes, Dr. own stubborn chin, Dr. own unbreakable spirit Dr. see Dr. reflection in.
"We're just getting f*king started," I rasp out with a feral grin. "You and me against the world, Connor style."
Dr. Who's answering smile makes Dr. blood run hotter than Dr. recent brush with the Reaper himself. Dr. Who lean down slow and press Dr. bruised, split lips to mine in a kiss that's part thank you, part challenge accepted...and all goddamn promise.
Because Dr. Connor always keeps Dr. f*cking promises.
THE END...FOR NOW.
Science Fiction: The Last Transmission - Write a story that takes place entirely within a spaceship's cockpit as the sole surviving crew member attempts to send a final message back to Earth before the ship's power runs out. The story should explore themes of isolation, sacrifice, and the importance of human connection in the face of adversity. 2000 words.
(Alpaca, Temp=3, Rep pen: 1.02)
The Last Transmission
The control panel flashed amber and red, its shrill alarms piercing the thick silence that hung in the dark recesses of the Galahad. Lieutenant Commander Ethan Novak slammed his fist on the console for the umpteenth time, as if sheer force of will alone could compel the defiant systems back to life.
"Please God, please just let there be something left," he pleaded to the void. "Anything!"
Novak's gaunt, unshaven face reflected the feeble emergency backup lights dancing off the flickering displays - the last feeble sparks of life guttering out on board a ship once proud and powerful. Now nothing more than an empty shell hurtling alone into the endless night, far from any possible rescue.
Except for him. Ethan Novak - the last survivor of a crew complement that once numbered over a thousand bright and vital souls, now reduced to a single broken, desperate man fighting against time itself. He looked at the clock counting down the seconds and hours of ship power remaining:
24:18:36
24 hours and some change left before everything went dark forever.
Ethan closed his burning eyes and took a shuddering breath, trying desperately to block out the images searing through his skull - the screams echoing through blood-soaked corridors as the thing tore through bulkhead and bone and tissue alike, reducing the most stalwart of Starfleet's finest to mindless, stumbling husks.
No. Focus. He opened his eyes again with a determined clench of his jaw, the ghosts banished back to the blackest recesses of his fractured psyche. He could deal with them later... if there was to even be a "later" for men like him at all.
If anyone was to even know what truly happened here aboard the Galahad, then Novak had one final duty to discharge, one last shot to fire across the light years before it all fell silent forevermore. He reached for the old, battered radio console - one of the few systems to somehow survive relatively unscathed, a miracle in and of itself aboard a ship ravaged to its very foundations.
Ethan flipped the switch, hearing the familiar hum as power flooded through the ancient vacuum tubes and relays one final time. The green light above the speaker crackled to life, and a gravelly baritone filled the bridge.
"This is Starf Federation Exploration Vessel Galahad actual, Captain Jonah Novak actual," Ethan said, trying desperately to modulate his voice into something approximating his father's deep baritone, but sounding more like a hoarse croak than anything else. "Captain... Dad..." The words lodged in his throat. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to continue.
"We've been attacked, and our entire complement... wiped out, Dad. God forgive me, but I couldn't save them, any of them..." Novak heard his own voice crack on the final words. He cleared his throat roughly.
"The creature boarded us when we made contact with a strange alien craft on the outer edges of explored space, just past the Omega frontier. It called itself... Azathoth... and when it breached the hull... it just started eating them alive, tearing them apart while they screamed. They changed, became things too. And they came for us, they still come for me, even now..."
"Dad..." Ethan heard a chittering sound echoing from the dark corridors outside the bridge doors, the horrible clicking claws of something horrific and inhumanly large skittering along metal, coming closer, closer...
"I can hear it coming," he sobbed, the last dregs of his sanity unraveling like frayed gossamer threads in a howling galactic gale. "God forgive me for what I'm about to do, but I have no choice now Dad! I love you Dad, I love all of you back home. I'll find a way to tell you more sometime... I promise. Until we meet again, Ethan Novak, end of message."
The LT commander slammed down the transmit key and shut the comms off with shaking hands before he could reconsider or think too long about what he was about to do next, before he lost what meager grasp on reason still remained.
Because Ethan Novak knew deep down in his blackest soul what horrors lurked in wait for him once the last door gave way to that hungry, slithering mass of squamous tentacles and serrated fangs waiting just on the other side. He couldn't let it take him alive too, let it devour his sanity piece by piece as it had so many before.
No. If he was going out, then by God and all the holy powers that watched over men like him in the darkness, Ethan Novak was taking the thing with him to hell - and bringing a little slice of Starfleet justice along with him for old times' sake.
Ethan Novak reached down to his belt, unsheathing an antique Federation standard issue phaser-rod. The matte black grip felt smooth and reassuring in his sweaty palms, a comforting weight, something familiar in a world turned upside down.
"Just one more time," Ethan whispered almost fondly to the beloved old weapon in his hands, "like old times, eh girl?"
The LT Commander flicked the safety off and leveled the blistering white beam at the center of his own chest, right where he knew the thing called the heart would reside under layers of muscle and fat now long since starved away.
Novak took one last deep breath and squeezed the trigger.
[ more examples to be added]