WARNING: NSFW. Vivid prose. INTENSE. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. GORE. Swearing. UNCENSORED... humor, romance, fun.

L3-Dark-Planet-8B-WORDSTORM- Version: R1

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 - 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: [ 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" ]] ---

EXAMPLES:

--- All examples are : - Q8 quant [unmodified] - Settings: Rep pen 1.05, topk 100, topp .95, min p .05, rep pen range 64, no other parameters/samplers. - NO System prompt - Llama 3 instruct template - Tested in Lmstudio. 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 wind knocked out of me. As I struggle to catch my breath, I hear screams and shouts from all directions. Panic sets in as I realize the enormity of what just happened. The window, the glass, it's all gone. There's nothing but a gaping hole where there should be solid concrete and safety. I scramble to my feet, my heart racing like a jackrabbit. My eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of danger. That's when I see them. Figures silhouetted against the bright blue sky, their bodies twisted and contorted in ways that defy human anatomy. They're falling, plummeting towards us with an unnatural grace. My mind refuses to accept what I'm seeing. It can't be real. This is some kind of nightmare, a cruel joke played by my subconscious. But as the first body crashes through the remaining windows on the 21st floor, I know this is all too real. The impact sends shards of glass flying everywhere, and I duck for cover, shielding my head with my hands. When I look up again, I see a grotesque, mangled corpse lying in pieces across the floor. Its skin is pale and stretched tight over its bones, like a macabre marionette. Blood oozes from its mouth, pooling on the marble beneath it. I gag, my stomach churning with revulsion. This can't be happening. I'm trapped in some kind of twisted, hellish scenario. But as I glance around the room, I see more bodies falling, more windows shattering, and more carnage unfolding before my eyes. The screams have turned to wails of terror, and I realize that I'm not alone. There are others here, people who were just going about their day, working or socializing, and now they're facing this unimaginable horror. I see a woman cowering in the corner, her eyes wide with fear as she clutches her child to her chest. A man stands frozen, his mouth agape, as if he's waiting for someone to tell him this is all just a sick joke. But it's no joke. It's real, and it's happening right now. I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, making my heart pound in my chest. My breath comes in short gasps, and my hands are shaking uncontrollably. I'm terrified, but I know I have to do something. I glance around the room again, searching for an escape route or some kind of weapon. That's when I spot a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall. It's heavy, but it might just be enough to fend off whatever is coming our way. I sprint towards it, my feet pounding against the floor. As I reach for the extinguisher, I hear a loud thud behind me. I turn to see another corpse lying on the ground, its eyes vacant and unseeing. Its mouth is open in a silent scream, and I can see the jagged edges of broken glass embedded in its skin. I shudder, bile rising in my throat. This is madness. Pure, unadulterated madness. But I don't have time to process it. I grab the extinguisher and turn back towards the window, ready to face whatever is coming next. As I stand there, bracing myself for impact, I hear a voice behind me. "Diana, get down!" It's the woman from the corner, her voice shrill with panic. She's pointing at something above us, and as I follow her gaze, I see another figure plummeting towards us. This one is different. Its body is intact, but its face is twisted into a grotesque, inhuman visage. Its eyes glow with an otherworldly light, and its mouth is stretched wide, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. It's heading straight for us, and there's no way to avoid it. I drop to the ground, pulling the woman and her child down with me. The extinguisher clatters to the floor beside us as we huddle together, waiting for the inevitable impact. But it never comes. Instead, the creature lands on the other side of the window, its body contorting in ways that defy human comprehension. It's then that I realize what's happening. These aren't just bodies falling from the sky. They're not even human. They're something else entirely, something ancient and evil, and they're here to claim this city as their own. As I watch, the creature begins to crawl through the shattered window, its eyes fixed on us with an unholy hunger. The woman beside me starts to sob, her child whimpering in terror. I know we have to get out of here, but where can we go? The entire building is under attack, and there's nowhere left to hide. I glance around the room one last time, taking in the chaos and destruction. The screams have stopped, replaced by an eerie silence. The only sound is the soft crunching of glass beneath the creature's claws as it moves closer. And then, just as all hope seems lost, I see a glimmer of light from the stairwell. It's our only chance. We have to move, now. I grab the woman's hand and pull her up, dragging her towards the door. The child stumbles along behind us, his eyes wide with fear. As we reach the stairwell, I hear the creature's first scream. It's a sound that defies human comprehension, a cacophony of agony and rage that seems to shake the very foundations of the building. We don't look back as we descend the stairs, our hearts pounding in unison. We keep moving, floor after floor, until we finally reach the ground level. The lobby is deserted, the only sound the distant wail of sirens. I glance up at the skyscraper, and for a moment, I think I see movement in the windows. But it's just my imagination playing tricks on me. We step out into the bright sunlight, gasping for air as we look around wildly. The streets are empty, save for a few scattered cars and abandoned bicycles. It's as if the entire city has vanished overnight, leaving only us behind. And then, in the distance, I see them. Figures moving through the streets, their bodies twisted and contorted in ways that defy human anatomy. They're coming for us, and there's nowhere left to run. As the first creature rounds the corner, its eyes fixed on us with an unholy hunger, I know that our nightmare is far from over. We're trapped in a living hell, and there's no escape. All we can do now is face whatever horrors await us, together. --- 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 as I feel the floor beneath me shudder and heave like a bucking bronco, sending me lurching sideways into the reinforced glass wall of our high-rise office building. The skyscraper sways, as if a gargantuan hand is gripping its steel-and-concrete spine, threatening to snap it in two. I'm trapped inside a cubicle, my chair rolling away from my desk in the chaos. My co-workers scream and cry out around me, their terror echoing off the polished granite floors. Glass shatters and tinkles to the ground from shattered windows as far down the floor-to-ceiling panes as I can see. My gaze is drawn irresistibly back to the window directly ahead of me on the 21st floor - the very one I watched explode in a spray of glittering shards, raining down like a deadly hailstorm onto the unsuspecting people on the street below. The blast wave knocked me off my chair and now I'm hunched over, hands covering my ears to block out the incessant shriek of wind ripping through the ruptured window frame. I try to make out the carnage through the dense fog of glass particles dancing in the frigid air. What was a serene, snow-covered expanse of the city a moment ago has been transformed into a maelstrom of twisting metal beams, jagged shards, and plummeting, bloodied bodies - all bathed in the sickly glare of streetlights and fire from burning buildings. Screams rise from the plaza like a chorus of the damned as the wounded and dying writhe and flail amidst the wreckage. The air is filled with the metallic stench of spilled blood and the acrid reek of burning rubber and gasoline. Fire engines wail in the distance, racing to the scene but seeming impossibly far away. My mind struggles to process this unimaginable horror, refusing to accept the truth: I am alive, witnessing this unspeakable devastation up close, while my loved ones, friends, and colleagues - some of them mere feet away from me - may not be. My stomach churns as a wave of bile threatens to overflow my gorge. In the midst of this carnage, one face stands out from all the rest: a coworker I'd sat next to at lunch just hours ago. His name is Eric, and we'd traded stories about our respective weekend getaways before returning to work. Now he's standing in the window frame beside me - or at least his shredded remains are. Glass has sliced through his torso like paper, exposing his internal organs, while blood spurts from severed arteries. He's still alive, but consciousness must surely be slipping away with each labored breath. The building creaks ominously again, and a few more windows explode around us in rapid succession. The howling wind is getting stronger, as if some malignant force is intent on ripping the entire structure apart. The air is freezing, and my teeth ache from the biting cold. I'm frozen in shock and disbelief, unable to move or even look away from the macabre tableau before me. Eric's eyes, once full of life and good humor, now stare blankly out at me through a mask of gore. He whispers something, but I can't make it out over the roar of the gale. I lean closer, my own mouth near his ear, and hear him gasp for breath before uttering the last words I'll ever hear from his lips: "...run...don't wait..." With those final instructions, a sudden gust tears Eric away from the window frame, flinging him out into the abyss. I'm left clinging to the remnants of shattered glass as the floor continues to quake violently beneath me. For an instant, I feel myself losing my grip, ready to follow Eric out the window and into eternity. Then, some primal instinct kicks in. With a cry of desperation, I throw all my weight onto my hands, feeling the glass cut deeper into my skin but refusing to give way. My arms tremble with the effort as I force myself up, hauling my body inch by agonizing inch back toward safety. When I finally stagger to my feet, the building seems to hold its breath along with me - momentarily still, though a constant keening echo remains trapped within these shattered walls. The snow continues to fall, covering the devastation below in a cold, silent shroud that belies the horrors it now conceals. I stand there, blood streaming down my arms and hands, staring at the ruin I'm surrounded by, knowing I must flee before it all comes crashing down. But as I take my first hesitant step back from the window, a fresh explosion tears through the building, shaking me to my core. This time, the blast comes not from outside but from somewhere within our own twisted structure - and the sound of it is unmistakable: human screams, mingled with the grinding, tearing sounds of steel snapping under unthinkable pressure... --- 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 explode on the twenty-first floor. I look up from my keyboard. Glass showers the street, reflecting the city's neon sprawl like a blood-soaked disco ball. "Fuck," says Jake across the desk. He's not much for surprises. The building shudders and sways like a drunk in a hurricane. Papers slide off his cluttered desk, fluttering to the floor. I grab my chair back and plant my feet firmly, bracing against the sway. I've seen enough combat to recognize a structural failure when it happens. "What's going on?" asks Emily from the cubicle next to mine. She looks at us with wide, scared eyes, but she's already moving, shuffling toward the emergency exit signs like a zombie following its master. "Get behind me," I tell her, grabbing the back of her shirt. The building groans again, sounding like it's about to split itself in half. My hand tightens around Emily's collar as I move her backward toward the door. Jake scrambles to gather his stuff while cursing under his breath. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he mutters like a mantra. Papers swirl around his feet as he backs toward us. The ceiling tiles above us crack and tremble. A loud rumbling fills the air as if the very foundation of the building is cracking apart. We hit the exit and burst out onto the fire escape landing, Emily whimpering beside me. "Hold tight," I say, my hand finding hers on the cold metal railing. The floor dips and lurches violently beneath our feet, like we're on a ship in a storm. Glass and debris rattle and scrape against the fire escape above us. The stairwell door slams shut behind us with a resounding thud. We cling to the railing as the fire escape shimmies and swings like a pendulum. I look down at the dizzying drop to the sidewalk far below, my stomach roiling with vertigo. The building behind us explodes with a deafening roar that seems to rip the very air from our lungs. We stumble forward, grabbing the next landing, then the one after that. Each step is a struggle against gravity and the sway of the metal stairs beneath us. Emily's face is contorted in terror, her eyes squeezed shut. "I don't want to die," she whimpers through clenched teeth. I give her hand a hard squeeze. "Neither do I," I say. It's a bleak observation, one I've made on too many battlefields and blood-soaked streets. I glance up, my throat dry with dread. The upper floors of our building are collapsing in on themselves, raining down like an avalanche of concrete and steel. A figure bursts out of the smoldering ruin, arms flailing, clothes in tatters. They tumble and fall, slamming into the fire escape with a sickening crunch that makes Emily gag. I recognize Jake's face, but it's grotesquely distorted - one eye missing, his skull cracked open like a ripe melon. "You see?" I say to Emily, my voice eerily calm. "Some people die better than others." My hand relaxes its grip on hers as the fire escape gives a final, violent jolt and then collapses, plummeting us toward the street in a chaotic tumble of twisted metal and shattered concrete. Time compresses into an endless, horrifying instant. And when I hit the pavement, it's with the realization that some people simply die the hardest. The last thing I hear is Emily's scream as her life explodes outward in a bloody smear on the sidewalk. And then... nothing but cold silence and the stench of smoke and death. The kind of ending I always knew was coming for me - just not quite like this.

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