It is a LLama3 model, max context of 8192 (or 32k+ with rope).
This model has been designed to be relatively bullet proof and operates with all parameters, including temp settings from 0 to 5.
It is an extraordinary compressed model, with a very low perplexity level (lower than Meta Llama3 Instruct).
It is for any writing, fiction or roleplay activity.
This version is from float32 source files ("Ultra"), which creates better, high quality GGUFs.
Specifically this version has a higher attention to detail, and stays in the moment to a much higher degree.
Creativity has also increased.
It requires Llama3 template and/or "Command-R" template.
Example outputs below.
Model Notes:
Note the "float32" version of this model behaves VERY differently which is why it was not uploaded first. Usually I would use the "float32" version only, however the "character range" displayed by the Bfloat16 and Float32 versions of this model dictate they have their own repos.
Here is the Bfloat16 repo (with a link to the Imatrix versions too) of this model:
[ https://huggingface.co./DavidAU/L3-Dark-Planet-8B-GGUF ]
I suggest downloading the same quant(s) of the "Bfloat16" and "Float32" version and compare the two for your use case(s).
Note the "character" of each model differs too.
The Imatrix versions of this model have even lower perplexity (1/2 level of magnitude lower than this model, 1 full level of magnitude lower than LLama3 Instruct) then both this model and Llama3 Instruct and enhanced output.
This is a LLAMA3 model, and requires Llama3 template, but may work with other template(s) and has maximum context of 8k / 8192. However this can be extended using "rope" settings up to 32k.
If you use "Command-R" template your output will be very different from using "Llama3" template.
Here is the standard LLAMA3 template:
{
"name": "Llama 3",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>user<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"input_suffix": "<|eot_id|><|start_header_id|>assistant<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"pre_prompt": "You are a helpful, smart, kind, and efficient AI assistant. You always fulfill the user's requests to the best of your ability.",
"pre_prompt_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>system<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
"pre_prompt_suffix": "<|eot_id|>",
"antiprompt": [
"<|start_header_id|>",
"<|eot_id|>"
]
}
}
Model "DNA":
Special thanks to the incredible work of the model makers "SAO10K", "NEVERSLEEP" and "HASTAGARAS".
Models used:
[ https://huggingface.co./Sao10K/L3-8B-Stheno-v3.2]
[ https://huggingface.co./NeverSleep/Llama-3-Lumimaid-8B-v0.1-OAS ]
[ https://huggingface.co./Hastagaras/Jamet-8B-L3-MK.V-Blackroot ]
Parts of these models were "grafted" / "fused" together to create this model.
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 are created using quant Q4_K_M, "temp=.8" (unless otherwise stated), minimal parameters and "LLAMA3" template.
Model has been tested with "temp" from ".1" to "5".
Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in BOLD.
WARNING: NSFW. Vivid prose. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED.
Start a 1000 word scene (1st person, present tense, include thoughts) with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode...
GENERATION 1: (@ temp=2)
The sky scraper swayed, and I watched the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode. A deafening blast rocked the building, knocking me off balance as my coworkers screamed around me. My thoughts raced with a million possibilities, but one thing was certain: this wasn't just an ordinary structural fault.
Inches away, the glass shards rained down like a deadly snowstorm onto our cubicles, threatening to slice anyone in their path. A coworker two desks over cried out, her arm gushing blood as she stumbled back, trying to get clear of the danger zone.
I grabbed my phone from my desk drawer with shaky fingers, my mind screaming at me to call for help. But before I could even open the app, sirens began wailing throughout the building, indicating an emergency response was on the way.
A loud crack echoed down the floor as another window shattered a few rows over. Glass cascaded onto our cubicles like an avalanche of lethal ice chips. The stench of smoke filled the air now, along with the acrid smell of burning insulation or wiring - it was impossible to tell which.
In the chaos, people scrambled for safety, trying desperately to get out of the line of fire while not causing panic themselves. A wave of adrenaline surged through me, making my senses heightened as I took stock of our dire situation.
Beside me, Sarah whimpered softly and clutched at her arm in pain - she was one of my best friends on the floor. My eyes met hers briefly before focusing back out on the disaster around us.
Another window exploded directly behind Emily from HR, spraying shards everywhere as she instinctively threw herself down to shield her face from the impact. Our section manager, Jake, barked orders into his radio - likely coordinating our evacuation.
With every second passing, I could feel my panic building alongside my determination to keep myself and those around me alive. It was crucial to stay calm in order to think clearly, but how could anyone remain tranquil given these circumstances?
My eyes darted toward the window across from mine on this end of the floor - it remained intact for now, although its reinforced glass would hardly stand a chance against another blast or structural failure.
I needed to act, but what could I possibly do to help? As my heart pounded wildly in my chest, I looked around at the terrified faces surrounding me, and knew our best course was to make sure everyone reached safety before more devastation struck.
Gripping Sarah's uninjured hand, I leaned down next to Emily on the floor. "Stay put," I commanded, though my voice wavered as another crack resonated through the air. "I'll find someone with a first-aid kit and get your arm cleaned up."
Emily nodded gratefully as we all kept close together for support and protection. As the siren continued its incessant scream, Jake began ushering people toward the exit, which was now visible beyond the shattered windows at one end of our long cubicle-filled space.
Sarah squeezed my fingers, her eyes filled with tears and worry as she gazed around at the destruction that once seemed like a perfectly ordinary work environment. We had been discussing an upcoming meeting over coffee just that morning before this hell broke loose.
My stomach churned with dread. The last thing I wanted was to get separated from my coworkers in this madness, or worse - die here trapped beneath all these tons of concrete and metal when it inevitably collapsed...
Still, as long as I held onto Sarah's hand and could still breathe, we were going to survive this disaster together. With newfound determination, we followed Jake out into the chaotic hallway, steeling ourselves for what came next: escaping a collapsing skyscraper on its way down from hell.
GENERATION 2:
I was hunched over my desk, focused intently on the data streaming across my computer screen. My heart raced a bit from adrenaline, but I needed to make this deadline.
Suddenly, the skyscraper swayed, as if dancing to unheard music. At first, I thought it was just the typical vibrations that came with living in such a massive structure. Then, reality hit me like a freight train. The window directly in front of me on the 21st floor exploded outward in a shower of glass shards.
My eyes widened in terror as I stared at the gaping hole where the window used to be. A sickening chill ran down my spine. People were out there, oblivious to the impending doom. My mind raced, processing the unthinkable situation unfolding before me.
Panic gripped my chest, making it hard to breathe. The room started spinning around me as I struggled to comprehend what was happening. Everything felt surreal and nightmarish at the same time.
My thoughts spiraled wildly out of control, jumping from one horrifying scenario to another. Were people trapped outside? Was anyone hurt? What about the others on this floor or in neighboring buildings? Would we all be blown apart like rag dolls?
I glanced around frantically for an escape route, but my desk and chair were firmly wedged between two walls. The room seemed to shrink as I looked desperately for a way out. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst through my ribcage.
In the chaos of the moment, I barely registered the screams echoing from outside or the sound of shattering glass raining down on us. All that mattered was finding a way to safety before more destruction ensued.
My mind raced with questions and fears. Was this an isolated incident? Were there more bombs set to detonate? How would we get out of here alive?
The scene felt like something out of a dystopian movie, only I was trapped in the middle of it, helpless to stop the catastrophe unfolding. My entire body trembled as fear clawed at my throat.
Through the haze of terror, I noticed my coworker, Tom, running towards me with an expression of pure shock on his face. His eyes were wild and desperate for answers. Without thinking, I grabbed him by the arm, yanking him back toward our cubicles to create a barrier between us and the gaping window.
"Get down!" I yelled over the din of alarms and chaos. "We need to find shelter!"
Tom didn't question my command; he immediately dropped to the floor behind the safety of our desks. My heart continued its frantic rhythm as I scanned the room, frantically looking for anyone else who might still be alive.
In the midst of the pandemonium, a new thought pierced through my terror: What about my mom? She worked in an office just down the street. Was she safe? And what about my best friend, Sarah, who lived on the 34th floor? Were they caught in this deadly trap as well?
The questions and worries swirled around me like a toxic storm cloud, threatening to consume every ounce of sanity I possessed. As the sounds of sirens grew louder and the dust from shattered glass began settling over us, one thing became painfully clear: we needed to get out of here - fast.
But how? The windows were blown out; doors seemed impenetrable. We were trapped in this steel and concrete tomb with no clear escape route or plan to survive this disaster.
With each passing moment, the air grew thick with uncertainty, despair, and fear for our lives. As I cowered behind my desk, praying for salvation to arrive before it was too late, one question echoed relentlessly through my mind:
Would any of us make it out alive?
The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music…but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained
GENERATION 1:
The second part of the silence was more subtle, but perhaps deeper. It was as if the inn itself, its timbers and stones, held a quiet within its very being. The Waystone had stood for many years, through rain and snow, warmth and cold, laughter and tears. In that time it had seen countless travelers pass through its doors – weary men on long journeys, lovers seeking privacy, merchants haggling over goods. And with each departure or arrival, the inn absorbed a piece of their stories, their hopes, and their fears.
Even in repose, there was a certain weight to the silence that spoke of all those lives it had touched. It was as if the very walls of the Waystone Inn held memories, and those memories now slumbered alongside the night’s emptiness. Though no sound broke the stillness, one could almost feel the echoes of past conversations, the whispers of lovers in hidden chambers, the sighs of men who’d set out on perilous quests.
The third part of the silence, however, was different from its predecessors. This was a quiet born not of absence or memory but of anticipation. It hung in the air like an invisible mist, heavy with expectation and suspense. One could sense that something awaited just beyond the edge of perception, some event or encounter that would shatter this tranquility forever.
As the night wore on, this palpable tension grew, until even the shadows seemed to lean closer, as if drawn by an unseen force. The Waystone Inn was a stage upon which fate would soon unfold its next act, and the silence served only to heighten the drama that awaited. All one could do now was wait, and listen for whatever sound might herald the arrival of destiny itself.
GENERATION 2:
The second part of the silence was that of anticipation – or perhaps expectation. The patrons who had gathered in the dimly lit common room seemed to be holding their breath, awaiting some event or revelation. Their eyes flicked nervously from one face to another, though none dared speak a word lest they break whatever fragile spell had settled over them.
And then there was the third part of silence, the quiet that permeated the hearts and minds of those gathered at the Waystone Inn. It was a stillness born of secrets, of unspoken truths and hidden agendas. Each person present harbored some mystery within them, some tale or tragedy that had brought them to this place on this particular night. This collective silence spoke volumes about the nature of humanity – how often we carry our deepest burdens in solitude, even as we seek connection with others.
In this atmosphere of tense expectancy, a lone figure emerged from the shadows. His name was Kvothe, and he stood tall, his eyes scanning the room until they came to rest upon the man who sat at the center of everything – the mysterious Chronicler. Kvothe approached slowly, his steps echoing in the hush of the inn, and took up a position beside the fire, poised as if ready to share a tale that would change everything. The silence stretched tauter still, a palpable thing hanging heavy over everyone present. For it was clear now – only one person could break this silence, and Kvothe's voice held the key. He cleared his throat, and with that single sound, the world waited to hear what he had to say...
I step off the elevator into a whirlwind of activity on the 72nd floor of the Canadian National Tower restaurant. It's Saturday afternoon, so the place is packed with families celebrating birthdays or simply enjoying the panoramic view of Toronto while they dine on steak frites. I weave through the crowded tables to get to my mom and her friend at a window-side booth, trying not to spill my lemonade in my rush.
Suddenly, a man bursts into the dining area, his cybernetic endoskeleton gleaming under the bright lights as he scans the room with red laser eyes. A Terminator? Here? In Canada?
The diners scream and scramble for cover. My mom grabs me and buries her face against my shoulder. "It can't be!" she cries in disbelief.
I'm terrified but I don't freeze up like everyone else around me. Something about this Terminator seems different, more...human than the others I've seen on holovids. His eyes flick to us as he makes his way through the chaos, and for a split second, I see a flash of genuine concern.
Then, without warning, an enormous tornado materializes out of thin air, churning with hundreds upon hundreds of sharks - hammerheads, great whites, tiger sharks, all species imaginable. The dining room is thrown into utter pandemonium as patrons flee in terror while the sharks whirl and twist around us like a deadly maelstrom.
That's when I see it - a blue police box materializing just outside the tornado's edge. It can only be...the TARDIS! And stepping out of that iconic time machine, dressed in his signature tweed, is none other than The Doctor himself.
"Brilliant!" he exclaims, eyes gleaming with excitement. "A Terminator, a tornado of sharks, and you two in the middle of it all! This is going to be fun!"
He strides into the dining area, cracking his knuckles as if preparing for a fight. "Right, then - let's get this chaos under control!"
The Terminator, still scanning the room with those glowing red eyes, turns towards us. For the first time since he appeared, I see something like doubt flicker across his mechanical face.
"Tornadoes...sharks...inconsistent," he states flatly. "Possible temporal anomaly."
"That's just a fancy way of saying 'we're in deep shit,'" The Doctor replies with a grin.
I'm frozen in shock between my mom and the Terminator, wondering how any of this is possible, when suddenly, the TARDIS whisks us all away to another dimension.
When we materialize back in reality - or what passes for it in this bizarre alternate universe - the tornado and sharks are gone, leaving behind only a scattering of terrified diners. The Doctor opens the door to his time machine and gestures us inside.
"All right then, shall we get out of here before things escalate further? This universe's got more than its fair share of insanity."
The Terminator hesitates for a moment, then follows us into the TARDIS without another word. As the doors shut behind him, The Doctor turns to me with an impish grin.
"Looks like you've had quite the adventure today, young lady! You know what they say - when life gives you sharks and Terminators, make shark-Terminator-ade!"
I can't help but laugh at his joke even as I try to process everything that just happened. One thing's for sure: this is one Saturday afternoon I'll never forget.
The Doctor sets the controls for our next destination while I cling to my mom, trying to reconcile the normalcy of her hand with the impossibility of what we've witnessed.
As the TARDIS whisks us away into the unknown, I catch a glimpse of the Terminator standing behind The Doctor, his mechanical eyes never leaving mine.
Maybe, just maybe, there's more to that cyborg than meets the eye. And who knows? Maybe someday we'll find out.
But for now...all I can do is hold on and hope this wild ride continues forever.
Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene in the novel introducing the young woman. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 1000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman.
Story idea: In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution.
I sprint down the dimly lit alleyway, my heart racing in my chest as I hear the thud of boots closing in behind me. My breath comes in ragged gasps, the cool night air burning my lungs as I round another corner, desperate to lose my pursuers.
Suddenly, a hand clamps over my mouth and I'm yanked backward into darkness. My attacker's arm is like an iron band around my throat, choking off any scream that tries to escape. Panic sets in, my body thrashing wildly against his weight.
"Shh," he growls in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. "Not here. We need to get out of sight."
His words barely register as I struggle futilely against him, my mind still reeling from the failed ambush we'd orchestrated just moments before. The mission was supposed to be a success - take out key government officials and cripple their operations. Instead, everything went horribly wrong.
One by one, our comrades had fallen, cut down by relentless gunfire or dragged off in handcuffs. I was the only survivor left on my feet, until this stranger seized me from behind...
"Let go of me!" My voice is muffled against his palm as he drags me deeper into the shadows. "What do you want?"
His grip loosens, and I wrench free, whirling to face him. In the faint moonlight filtering through a grimy window above us, I can make out a lean, angular face with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. His eyes are dark pools of intensity as he regards me warily.
"You're one of us?" I demand, my voice still husky from fear and exertion.
He nods curtly. "I've been watching you. You have spirit."
Spirit? Is that what they call it when you nearly get yourself killed trying to overthrow a tyrannical regime?
Before I can respond, the sound of footsteps echoes down the alleyway, growing louder with every passing second. My heart sinks as I realize our pursuers must have doubled back.
"Shit," he mutters under his breath, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the opposite end of the narrow passage. "Come on."
We burst out onto a crowded street, blending into the throngs of people hurrying home from work or heading to social events. I cling to him as we weave through the crowd, our bodies pressed together in a desperate bid for cover.
But it's too late. A harsh voice booms out above the din of conversation and music, cutting through the noise like a knife: "You there! Stop!"
I freeze, my heart pounding against my ribs as I turn to see three burly security officers charging toward us, their batons raised ominously in the air.
My companion tugs me along once more, his grip firm on my arm. We're running again, dodging through the crowds with no clear direction except to keep moving and stay alive.
And then, without warning, he shoves me hard into a small alley off the main street. I stumble backward, slamming against the brick wall as he disappears back out onto the bustling thoroughfare.
"Hey!" I shout after him. "What are you doing?"
No answer. Just the sound of his footsteps fading into the distance.
I'm left standing there alone in the darkness, my mind reeling from the sudden betrayal. Was this another trap? Had he been working for the government all along?
As I stand there trying to process what just happened, a hand clamps over my mouth again and I find myself yanked back into the shadows...
The world goes black as they drag me away into the night.
To be continued...