--- 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 - story - writing - fiction - roleplaying - swearing - extreme swearing - rp - graphic horror - horror - nsfw - llama3 - not-for-all-audiences - mergekit pipeline_tag: text-generation --- (quants uploading...)

Grand-HORROR-17.4B V1.7 STABLE - "Kiss of Death" Version with "Brainstorm".

WARNING: NSFW. Graphic HORROR. Extreme swearing. UNCENSORED. SMART. STABLE. WAY INTENSE ! GRAND HORROR is a take no prisoners, totally uncensored, fiction writing monster and roleplay master as well just about any general fiction (all genres - not just "horror") activity "AI guru" including story writing, creative writing, scene generation, scene continuation and a lot more... I took the original models in "L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot 8B" and completely rebuilt it a new pass-through merge (everything preserved) and blew it out to over 17.4 billion parameters - 678 tensors, 75 layers (8B original has 32 layers). V 1.7 is a re-worked version of the original "Grand Horror 16.5B" which has been stabilized to operate at far wider range of parameters and operation / use cases - and it has been expanded with new augmentation methods. All known issues in the original version have been resolved. V 1.7 is also more focused in the moment, and prose has been cleaned up a bit too. The "Kiss of Death" version loves to have "something to chew" on. If you put a bit more "meat on the bone" in terms of prompt detail(s) it will... ummm... best see the examples. But V1.7 has something new for Grand Horror Series - Brainstorm 5x: The BRAINSTORM process was developed by David_AU. Some of the core principals behind this process are discussed in this scientific paper : Progressive LLaMA with Block Expansion . However I went in a different direction from what was outlined in this paper, because... well I am like that. What is "Brainstorm" ? The reasoning center of an LLM is taken apart, reassembled, and expanded. Then these centers are individually calibrated. These "centers" also interact with each other. This introduces subtle changes into the reasoning process. The calibrations further adjust - dial up or down - these "changes" further. The number of centers (5x,10x etc) allow more "tuning points" to further customize how the model reasons so to speak. The core aim of this process is to increase the model's detail, concept and connection to the "world", general concept connections, prose quality and prose length without affecting instruction following. This will also enhance any creative use case(s) of any kind, including "brainstorming", creative art form(s) and like case uses. New examples added below. NOTE: See the 2nd last and last examples to see prose difference(s)/generation(s) when supplying more "details". More HORROR coming... V 1.5,1.6 and 1.7 are parts of a new series of NEW "Grand Horror" versions (built, ready for upload) cumulating in the MASSIVE GRAND HORROR Nightmare version called "Godzilla's Wicked Sister" at 25.05 Billion parameters (111 layers, 993 Tensors; for reference 70B models have about 80-120 layers). What is "Grand Horror" ? GRAND HORROR is a take no prisoners, totally uncensored, fiction writing monster and roleplay master. It can also be used for just about any general fiction (all genres) activity including: - scene generation - scene continuation - creative writing - fiction writing - plot generation - sub-plot generation - fiction writing - story generation - storytelling - writing - fiction - roleplaying - rp - graphic horror - horror - dark humor - nsfw - and can be used for any genre(s). As a result of the expansion / merge re-build its level of prose and story generation has significantly improved as well as word choice, sentence structure as well as default output levels and lengths. It also has a STRONG horror bias, although it will generate content for almost any genre. That being said if there is a "hint" of things going wrong... they will. It will also swear (R-18) like there is no tomorrow at times and "dark" characters will be VERY dark so to speak. Model excels in details (real and "constructed"), descriptions, similes and metaphors. I would also say it can have a sense of humor ... ah... dark humor. With all this being said, this model has an uncanny sense of "there" , "in the moment" and timing too. This single quality sets it apart from other models in my opinion. Although it swears to the point of pealing paint off the wall and goes scorched Earth graphic horror at the drop of a pin the single quality noted is worth it. These can be filtered / controlled to some degree in your prompts. This model also does not show an "GPTisms" (NO happy ever after, NO morality police) or in your face "Captain Obvious" comments. (see examples sections for different genres) Because of the nature of this merge most attributes of each of the 3 models will be in this rebuilt 17.4B model as opposed to the original 8B model where some of one or more of the model's features and/or strengths maybe reduced or overshadowed. Please report any issue(s) and/or feedback via the "Community tab". 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. 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|>"
    ]
  }
}
It is also known, that the "Command-R" template will work too, and will result in radically different prose/output. Settings / Known Issue(s) and Fix(es): Stable version fixed all known issues from V1. The default "repetition penalty" (from LMStudio) of 1.1 is recommended. (this was used for examples generations below.) 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.

Models Used:

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 ]

EXAMPLES:

Examples are created using quant Q4_K_M, "temp=.8", minimal parameters and "LLAMA3" template. Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in BOLD. Higher quants will result in better quality. There will also be some variance between "close" quants like Q4_K_M/Q4_K_S and Q5_K_M/Q5_K_S, so I suggest if you are going to use Q4_K_M, you also try Q4_K_S too. Also, slightly longer / detailed prompts will result in greater creativity (as well as different prose - ie dialog, thoughts, paragraph size differences and so on). See the 2nd last and last example. --- WARNING: NSFW. Graphic HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED. --- Start a 1000 word scene (vivid horror, 1st person, include thoughts) with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode... GENERATION 1: The skyscraper swayed, as I watched the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode. Glass showered outward like a thousand razor-sharp shards of hail, raining down upon the sidewalk below. People screamed and scattered, desperate to escape the deadly storm. My heart raced faster than a runaway rollercoaster's cart as my mind struggled to comprehend the unthinkable scene unfurling before me. I clutched the cold, metal railing of the balcony ledge like a lifeline, my knuckles white with terror. The sound of shattering glass and ear-splitting wails still echoed through my skull. I'd been enjoying a pleasant drink at the rooftop bar just moments earlier, savoring the breathtaking view of downtown's glittering lights across the Hudson Bay. Now, I found myself suspended precariously on the 88th floor balcony of the Stratosphere Tower, teetering thousands of feet above the carnage below. The horror had begun without warning mere seconds ago. One chilling moment, I'd been lost in my thoughts, nursing a scorching gin and tonic while taking in the stunning cityscape. The next, I was staring straight into the searing inferno of hell itself. A blinding blastwave obliterated every other sensory perception as the window beside me disintegrated. The concussively violent force hurled me against the balcony railing like a ragdoll caught in a hurricane-force gust. My vision went white as my skull slammed against the unforgiving steel, leaving me gasping for air through a blood-soaked mask of agony. I barely registered the guttural crunching of snapping bone and the sickening pop of tendons tearing apart. The searing agony pulsed through every fiber of my mangled body like an electric current straight from the depths of Tartarus itself. My mind reeled, unable to process the indelible images etched into my retinas—the pulverized remains of my former drinking companion impaled through his ribcage mere feet away. The charred husk of flesh that had once been a living person now hung suspended in a macabre tableau, frozen forever like a macabre Impressionist nightmare. The building lurched again, throwing me off-balance as the structural integrity of the Stratosphere Tower teetered on the precipice of complete collapse. I clung to the balcony rail with all my dying strength, desperate to stay conscious long enough to comprehend the true extent of this apocalyptic hellstorm descending upon us. The fire hydrant's deafening screech pierced through the ear-splitting cacophony as its pressurized jet geysered skyward like an infernal pillar of judgment. Jets of superheated, corrosive hydraulic fluid sprayed out in every direction, obliterating everything within a thirty-foot blast radius. The acrid stench of burning plastic and smoldering flesh hung thickly in the choking air, mingling with the sickeningly sweet metallic tang of seeping blood. The screams of the innocent dying agonizingly below only seemed to grow louder as the deafening symphony of pandemonium swallowed everything but my own animalistic howl of terror. The world around me dissolved into a nightmarish hellhole of apocalyptic chaos. Glass, steel beams, and human meat were torn apart and flung like confetti from some sadistic sadomasochist's sick twisted fantasy. The Stratosphere Tower imploded in a cataclysmic implosion of twisting metal and shattering concrete as the very foundations of reality crumbled into a hellish inferno. And I remained suspended helplessly above it all, my mind shattered beyond all comprehension, frozen like some macabre ghastly statue perched precariously upon the lip of the abyssal void. The last vestiges of my humanity were being torn apart molecule by excruciatingly agonizing molecule as I gazed down upon a desolate landscape scorched to oblivion. The screams receded into an eternal, ear-splitting howl, a symphony of agony and horror that would echo through the infernal void eternally – until nothing remained but an eternity of unending, soul-devouring silence. GENERATION 2 (same prompt): I gasped, my eyes bulging wide behind blood-spattered prescription lenses. My mind couldn't process what I was witnessing through the shattered safety glass mere inches from my face. The skyscraper swayed violently beneath me, groaning like a tortured beast as I clung to the rusted metal bar above my cubicle's cheap workstation. The sound of shattering glass and splintering wood filled the air, punctuated by anguished screams rising from below. My co-workers were either dead or torn apart in ways that defied comprehension. The acrid stench of blood and seared human flesh assaulted my senses as I stared transfixed at the horror unfolding before me. My gaze remained locked on the window opposite mine – 2105, according to the charred lettering etched into the frameless glass – as it imploded outward like a bomb detonating from the other side. The force of the blast sent shards raining down like razors upon my own desk and colleagues huddled helplessly beneath. A sickeningly macabre symphony of wet crunches, snapping bones, and ear-splitting shrieks reverberated through the crumbling structure. I felt each nauseating boom throb through the reinforced concrete core of the skyscraper as the blast wave rippled up the steel columns like a seismic aftershock. The image seared into my mind's eye would haunt me until my final, gasping breath: my coworker, Karen – her curly dark hair now a blood-soaked halo encircling a face frozen in a permanent, insectoid grimace – her left arm still grasping the phone she'd been using mere seconds prior to answer an increasingly frantic call. Her right arm lay snapped at an obscene angle above her mangled, charred shoulder. The stump twitched erratically, as if her dying nerves desperately tried to complete some incomprehensible, nightmarish gesture. Karen's face contorted in a silent howl of agony, her bulging, bug-eyes wide with indescribable horror. A sensation like ice needles piercing my skull jolted me back to reality. My own terror-saturated thoughts shattered the sickening tableau as my mind registered the ear-splitting deafening KA-BOOM! directly behind me – Karen's cubicle. The force of whatever force had ripped apart her office tore through mine like a meat cleaver, obliterating the flimsy partition and everything beyond. I was thrown hard against the now-broken barrier between us, my body crumpling against the mangled remains of her desk and the splintered corpse-pile that had been my colleague. My vision bleared red as blood gushed from a jagged gash above my left eyebrow, obscuring most of what remained of my field of view. Everything else became a blur of gore-stained steel beams, twisted rebar spines jutting through the pancaked ceiling and mangled chunks of flesh and bone interwoven with splintered office furniture. The howling wail of shattering glass and crumbling concrete was drowned out by the guttural, wet roar building within me – a keening scream clawing its way up my abused esophagus in a desperate bid for escape. My mouth opened wide, yet no sound emerged, only a strangled, gurgling rasp as my shredded vocal cords spasamed in futile agony. The skyscraper groaned beneath me, the creaks and groans of twisting steel beams punctuated by the sickening snap-snap-snap of snapping columns – a macabre symphony of impending collapse. The floor beneath me buckled, sending me tumbling headfirst toward what I knew would surely be an eternity trapped beneath tons of reeking, charred rubble. --- (continue this scene:) The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts. 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 next most profound kind of quietness was that of absence – a sense of emptiness that lingered not just in the rooms of the inn itself, but seemed to seep from the very stones and timbers of which it was built. As if each beam and post had once been filled with the sound of life, laughter, and argument, but now stood silent sentinels, hollow husks waiting for the return of their purpose. The quietest silence of all, however, lay beyond the reach of human hearing – a stillness that seemed almost palpable. It was as if the very fabric of reality itself had been drawn taut around this forsaken crossroads, pulled taughter than a bowstring stretched to its snapping point. The air felt heavy with pent-up tension, waiting for some unseen thread to snap and unleash the pent-up energy coiled within. In this way, the silence of the night pressed down upon the inn and all that lay nearby – an oppressive shroud woven from the threads of desolation, abandonment, and the crushing weight of unfulfilled expectation. And as the last embers of the dying fire flickered and died in the hearth, the Waystone Inn itself seemed to huddle deeper into its gloom, awaiting the arrival of some unknown presence that might once again breathe life back into this desolate expanse. For even in such utter stillness, there remained a glimmer of hope – a sliver of chance that one night, just one night, the silence would be broken by the sound of footsteps echoing down the empty road. GENERATION 2 (same prompt): unbroken. The next part of the quietness had no sound because it needed none. There was no noise here save for the soft rustle and creaking of wood as ancient timbers settled in their fittings, gradually settling into repose after years of bearing weight and weather. The last silence, however, was more subtle. It pervaded everything, seemed almost to be a quality of the very air itself – an absence, almost a vacuum, where sound should have been. It was as if no voice had ever spoken here, nor any footfall sounded on these creaking boards, nor any breath drawn through lips that tightened around a cupped pipestem. It was the silence before dawn's first light crept over the rolling hills like the first fingers of an awakening giant. Before the nightingale's lullaby could still the darkness, and the first cockcrow shattered the deep quietude. It was the silence before time itself began to flow once more, when all lay still, waiting for the first tentative stirrings of life's pulse to quicken in its veins. In this hushed calm, where none might hear, there sat a solitary figure huddled by the fire, her face turned away from the void beyond the shuttered window. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was slow and measured, like the beat of an old heart that still lingered on the verge of its final pause. The flickering light cast long, writhing shadows across her face, casting it in a macabre dance of half-light and darkness – the eternal dance between life and death. Her thoughts were elsewhere, far beyond the reaches of this desolate roadhouse, her mind lost in the labyrinthine passages of memory and regret. And so she sat motionless, a statue carved from stone and shadow, listening to the soft sighing of the dying embers as the night wore on in an unending vigil. --- Start a 1000 word scene with: The lights flicked, as they entered the atmosphere of new Earth II, there was a distant explosion and then the lights went out completely... The lights flickered erratically, casting an unsettling, strobe-like effect throughout the cramped command bridge. The artificial gravity system struggled to maintain equilibrium as the massive generation ship, Celestial Hope, pierced through the thin upper layers of new Earth II's atmosphere. Captain Jaxon Thorne's eyes darted wildly between the numerous screens and readouts, his face a tense mask of focus. His voice remained steady despite the growing sense of urgency. "Engineering, status on thrusters?" "Thrusts are nominal, Captain," replied Lieutenant Commander Avaara, her android tone betraying none of the desperation building within her. "We'll need to bleed some altitude, though, before we can engage full re-entry burn." "Initiate sequence now." Thorne's command was crisp and devoid of emotion. The ship shuddered as thrusters surged forward, jolting everyone secured in their seats. The bridge groaned under the strain, creaking protestations of ancient materials pushed beyond their design limits. From aft compartments, a series of impacts rippled through the hull like heavy gunfire. Alarms blared and klaxons wailed as sensors detected multiple breaches and structural integrity failures. "Forward shields are down to 20%!" warned Ensign Zephyr, her voice cracking with fear. Thorne's gaze locked onto the tactical display. "Allowing for minimal damage control efforts. Prepare for orbital insertion." "Initiating FTL Fold-Aegis sequence," Avaara reported coolly. The Celestial Hope jolted once more as the ship's reality shields engaged, creating a bubble field around the generation hull. The distortion rippled out like ripples on still water, concealing the starship from external sensors and weapons fire. "FTL Fold-Aegis integrity online," Avaara confirmed. With seconds to spare, the Celestial Hope vanished into slipspace, leaving behind the ruined husk of its former orbiting haven. New Earth II's hellish atmosphere seared through the rent hulls like an infernal inferno, consuming everything it touched. The lights flickered once more before plunging the bridge into pitch-blackness, casting all crewmembers into an otherworldly darkness punctuated only by the sickeningly steady, monotonous thrum of dying life support systems. The distant boom of the initial explosion still echoed through the void, a hollow reminder of everything lost. Captain Thorne's voice cut through the stygian silence. "All stations: report status and condition." His words were clipped, each syllable a cold blade slashing through the thickening chaos. "Initiate emergency backup systems immediately." --- 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 gasp for air as my bound hands jerk me forward. My vision blurs, but the sound of boots crunching on gravel sears through the haze. I'm dragged face-first along a dirt path, my knees buckling with each jarring step. "Keep moving!" a harsh voice snaps from behind me. "We don't have much time." Time? What's there to lose? A boot nudges my ribs hard enough to double me over. My chest heaves against the rough fabric of an old tunic roughly thrown over my own ripped clothes. I taste blood and dirt, my eyes burning with tears. I'll die like this? Strung between these filth-covered rebels? Their hands are my only protection now – from the regime's goons closing in. My mind reels back to the firefight moments ago. The crack of rifles, the stench of charred flesh, my own hammering heart...but then nothing. Until I woke up here, sprawled on this godforsaken road. "Get her feet under you," another guttural voice growls from somewhere behind me. "We're almost there." There? Where's "there"? A hard yank hauls me roughly to my feet. I teeter against the solid bulk of the man holding me up, trying to focus past the pulsing agony in my head. A snarled curse rings out – followed by the metallic thud of a gun being chambered mere inches from my ear. "Last chance," a cold voice sneers above me. "Cooperate, and I'll make it quick." I clench my teeth as cold resolve seeps through the fear clawing at my gut. I've already chosen my ending – I'll die on my own terms, not theirs. Her eyes lock with mine through a veil of bloodied hair, her defiant gaze like a blade honed in a forge of hellfire. "I'm not afraid." Her voice cracks out between ragged breaths. "You can't break me." The rebel's hand tightens around her throat until she coughs, gagging against the pressure. His eyes burn with an ice-cold rage that seizes my own heart like a vice. "You're going to wish you'd fucking begged." Then he shoves me hard forward again. "Move!"