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

L3-Dark-Planet-8B-WORDSTORM- Version: R7

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, my heart pounding in my chest. The blast wave hits me with the force of a sledgehammer, knocking me off balance. I stumble backwards, my hands flying up to shield my face from the onslaught of debris. As the dust settles, I peer through the gap where the window once was, my stomach churning at the sight before me. A figure, mangled and twisted beyond recognition, hangs suspended in mid-air, tethered only by a few strips of torn flesh and shredded clothing. Blood drips from its mouth, pooling on the windowsill below. I gag, my breakfast threatening to make a reappearance as I turn away, my eyes scanning the room for any sign of what just happened. The air is thick with the acrid smell of smoke and something far more sinister - the stench of death. My gaze lands on the door, which hangs crookedly from its hinges, the frame splintered and charred. I know I have to get out of here, but my legs feel like lead, refusing to move as I stare at the carnage before me. Suddenly, a scream pierces the air, sending shivers down my spine. It's coming from somewhere in the building, echoing off the concrete walls and steel beams. My heart races as I realize that whatever caused this destruction is still out there, and it's not finished yet. I force myself to move, my feet carrying me towards the door with a sense of grim determination. As I step into the hallway, I'm met with an even more horrifying sight. Bodies litter the floor, some torn apart, others burned beyond recognition. Blood pools around them, forming a macabre mosaic on the polished tile. I gag again, my eyes watering as I try to process what I'm seeing. This can't be real. It has to be some kind of nightmare, a twisted hallucination born from too much stress and not enough sleep. But the coppery tang of blood fills my nostrils, and the acrid stench of smoke clings to my clothes, reminding me that this is all too horribly real. I take another step forward, my eyes scanning the carnage for any sign of survivors or a way out. That's when I see it - a trail of blood leading down the hallway, towards the stairwell. It's faint, but it's there, and it might just lead me to safety. With a deep breath, I start to follow the trail, my heart pounding in my ears as I navigate through the maze of death and destruction. Every step feels like an eternity, each creak of the floorboards beneath my feet making me jump with fear. As I round a corner, I catch sight of a figure in the distance - a woman, her face twisted in agony as she clutches at a wound in her side. She's trying to crawl towards the stairwell, but her movements are slow and labored, her strength clearly fading fast. Without hesitation, I rush towards her, dropping to my knees beside her. "Hold on," I whisper urgently, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'll get you out of here." She looks up at me, her eyes filled with a desperate plea for help. "Please..." she gasps, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Get...my daughter..." My heart clenches at the words, and I glance around frantically, trying to locate any sign of the child. That's when I see her - a small figure huddled against the wall, her eyes wide with terror as she watches her mother's struggle. Without thinking, I scoop up the girl, cradling her in my arms as I turn back to the woman. "I've got her," I say, trying to reassure her. "We'll find your daughter and get out of here together." The woman nods weakly, a faint smile crossing her lips as she reaches out to touch her child's face. Then, with a final gasp, she goes still, her eyes glazing over as life slips away. I hold the girl tighter, my own tears streaming down my face as I rock her gently. "It's okay," I whisper, trying to soothe her. "We're going to get through this." With renewed determination, I stand up, the girl clutched tightly in my arms. Together, we start to make our way towards the stairwell, each step a testament to our will to survive in a world that seems determined to destroy us. --- 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...

I press my trembling body against the cold, sterile wall, my heart racing like a trapped animal. My mind is a maelstrom of confusion and fear, desperately trying to process the scene unfolding before me. The skyscraper sways, as I watch the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode in a shower of glass, splintering into jagged shards that rattle and dance in the air before raining down like deadly confetti onto the street below. A scream tears from my throat, echoing through the office as I lunge forward, hands pressed to my mouth. I want to look away, but my gaze is ensnared, helplessly drawn back to the gaping hole where the window once stood. I can see inside now – a chaos of splintered wood and metal, the office a twisted ruin. A dark smear stretches across the broken glass, blood, or something worse. Behind me, the panicked chatter of colleagues rises as they scramble to the exits. I'm frozen, rooted in place as if my sneakers have been welded to the floor. My breath comes in ragged gasps, and I can feel the slick sweat on my palms, leaving trails on the pristine white wall. Every cell in my body is screaming for me to flee, but my legs are leaden, refusing to cooperate. In the shattered window, a figure emerges, twisted and grotesque. It's the man who was sitting at the desk before the explosion – I remember him as an accountant, always impeccably dressed, with an air of smug superiority that rubbed others the wrong way. Now, he's a monstrous thing, his face a mess of pulped tissue and bloodied bone, eyes bulging from their sockets like overripe melons. His limbs are contorted at unnatural angles, as if they've been melted and refrozen in place. He moves, though, lurching toward me on all fours like some ghastly spider. "No, no, no..." I whisper, the denial a futile attempt to deny what I'm seeing. I press myself harder against the wall, as if I can burrow into it for protection. My hands fly up, shielding my face from the horrific sight. Even through the cracks of my fingers, the tableau sears itself into my retina. A sound escapes the monster – not human, but something inhuman. A gurgling, wet churning, accompanied by the creaking and groaning of twisted metal behind him. I hear it clearly, even above the screams and chaos around me. The creature's movement slows, its progress toward me agonizingly deliberate. Suddenly, an alarm blares to life, deafening in the enclosed space. Sirens outside wail in sync, the cacophony blending with the sound of breaking glass, mangled metal, and that indefinable wetness as my former coworker crawls nearer. Panic gives way to a cold, clear rage. I yank myself from the wall and sprint toward the door, crashing through it at full tilt, scattering people left and right in my wake. "Get out! Run!" I yell, not stopping for breath until I reach the stairwell. In the relative safety of the concrete stairwell, I pause to catch my breath, my body shaking uncontrollably. The echoes of chaos behind me seem distant now, but I know they're only just beginning. The skyscraper trembles and groans, as if in agony, its steel frame stretched taut like a harp string. I force myself downward, one flight at a time, my mind reeling from the horror above. The image of that creature's face is seared into my vision, an indelible imprint on my retina – blood, bone, and eyes all awry. My ears still ring with that wet, gurgling sound, and I can taste the acrid tang of smoke and fear on the back of my tongue. Reaching ground level, I burst out of the lobby, into a scene of pandemonium. Emergency responders swarm around the building's perimeter, their flashing lights casting eerie shadows on the faces of onlookers. Police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks fill the streets, their horns blaring in a chaotic symphony. People mill about in confusion and panic, some holding phones aloft, recording the chaos. I push through them all, heedless of their calls and shouts, desperate to get as far away from that monstrosity as possible. Tears stream down my face as I weave past the wreckage, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My heart is a jackhammer, pounding in my chest with every step. Eventually, I stumble onto a side street, where a bus is pulling out of its stop. Without hesitation, I rush toward it, praying that it's headed away from the carnage behind me. As I push onto the crowded vehicle, the doors hiss shut behind me, enveloping me in the stale smell of other people's fear. The bus lurches forward, carrying me farther and farther from the skyscraper. As the buildings fall away, and I catch glimpses of the city's skyline in my rearview window, my sobs begin to subside. Exhaustion overtakes me, and my body slumps against the hard plastic seat as the world outside blurs into a gray, featureless expanse. The bus ride is a haze, punctuated only by the occasional question from a passenger or the bus driver's attempts at small talk. I don't respond, lost in the aftermath of what I've seen. Eventually, the bus reaches my stop, and as I stumble off into the unknown, all I know for certain is that nothing will ever be the same again. The world has changed, irrevocably and horribly, and I'm left to confront a reality that's become as twisted as the creature I witnessed. --- 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 exploding? Never seen that before. I stand there, coffee cup untouched in my hand, and watch a sheet of glass shatter outward from the twenty-first floor. Dust and debris shower down, hitting the streets two hundred feet below. I blink, wiping grit from my eyes. Just another day, right? I sip the cold brew, the taste bitter, fitting for what's going to be a hellish day. Then I notice it: the building starts to sway, ever so slightly at first. But then with enough force that my coffee wobbles and I steady my grip on the cup, heart racing. "Fuck," I mutter under my breath. It's never good when buildings start dancing. My boss storms in, eyes wild as he grabs onto the doorframe to keep his balance. "Evacuate! Evacuate now!" People scramble for the exits, screaming and trampling each other to get out first. Chaos. That's what chaos looks like, feels like. I've seen worse, but I'd still rather be back in Fallujah. I grab my bag from beneath my desk, tossing in my laptop, extra magazines, and a bottle of water. Always prepared, just in case. As I move toward the door, a loud cracking sound pierces the air. The lights flicker, then die completely, plunging us into darkness. That's when it hits. The unmistakable rumbling, like the whole building is collapsing. But it isn't. Instead, a thick, impenetrable fog seeps in through the broken window, pouring across the floor like some ghastly liquid. It smells wrong – musty and decaying, like an open grave on a hot day. "What the fuck?" someone behind me whispers, voice trembling. I don't turn around, eyes fixed on the swirling miasma. "Unknown chemical agent," I say, voice steady as I've kept my aim under fire. "Probably a dirty bomb of some sort." Someone lets out a terrified shriek and I grit my teeth. This is where you earn your keep, girl. You find out what this shit is, then neutralize it or die trying. I've done it before, but never in an office building with innocent lives at stake. I pull my gas mask from the bag, snapping it on and adjusting the straps. Time to go hunting. I slip out into the hallway, the fog already reaching halfway up my legs. I wade through it, feeling around for the stairwell door, fingers brushing against slick walls and trailing debris. Behind me, someone screams again, a wet, gurgling sound. I spin around, gun already drawn, but there's nothing in sight through the dense fog. A figure stumbles toward me, flailing and coughing up blood. I recognize Sarah from HR, eyes bulging, face turning purple. I reach out and grab her arm just as she collapses onto me. I barely register the feeling of her urine soaking into my pants before I'm dragging her back down the hallway. "Stay with me, Sarah," I grunt, trying to keep her conscious as we press onward through the fog. The stairwell door finally materializes, and I shove it open, pulling Sarah after me. The fog doesn't seem as bad down here, but I'm still alert for any signs of trouble. We reach the lobby, where a few others have gathered, huddled around an open exit door leading to the outside. I lay Sarah down against the wall, pressing my jacket onto her wound and holding it tight. "Stay with us," I repeat, more to myself than to her. The smell of smoke and fear hangs heavy in the air. Suddenly, someone screams again, closer this time. I whip around, gun ready, as a figure emerges from the fog, stumbling toward us. It's one of my coworkers, Mark, his face twisted into a grotesque rictus. He staggers closer, arms outstretched, and I realize too late that they're empty. His eyes, though – fuck. They're black as coal, no whites left. A low moan escapes his lips as he lunges at us, and I fire twice into his chest. He drops, limbs splayed out like a broken doll. A few of the others scream, backing away from Mark's corpse. The rest just stare at me with a mix of terror and disgust. I don't have time to explain. "Get moving," I shout at them, gun trained on the fog swirling in from the stairwell. "Don't stop for anyone or anything." The group takes off, rushing out into the open air, and I follow right behind them. As soon as we reach the fresh air, the fog dissipates almost instantly, leaving only a fine powder coating everything like a toxic snow. I look around, taking stock of the damage: the ruined windows, the shattered glass scattered everywhere, the blood-soaked sidewalks... it looks like a war zone. And we're just getting started. Because out here, on the streets, something new and far worse has begun to happen. The people are turning, changing into...things. They stumble toward us, arms outstretched, mouths open wide in grotesque, toothless grins. The once-humans are now twisted, mutilated monstrosities with black eyes and gray, papery skin stretched taut over their bodies. They moan and gibberish, drooling on themselves as they lurch closer. The people I was trying to protect scream and scatter, running wildly in all directions. I pull my sidearm free, firing into the approaching horde. But there are too many, and soon my gun is empty. That's when the real nightmare begins.

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