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 20.7 billion parameters - 813 tensors, 90 layers (8B original has 32 layers).
V 1.9 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.
A new model has also been added to the mix - not in Grand Horror 16.5B, or in any version - until now.
All known issues in the original version have been resolved.
V 1.9 is also more focused in the moment, and prose has been cleaned up a bit too.
"Hathor_Stable-v0.2-L3-8B" model has also joined the "party".
And this is the first creative model that has multi-model (as opposed to one) "logic centers" in series.
Each model brings slightly new "flavoring" to the mix.
That being said, you may want to hit "regenerate" a few times... because there is no telling what you will get in terms of "story" prose.
In terms of prose, this version exhibits a greater range of sentence, dialog, thoughts, and paragraph size and variety as well as form.
But V1.9 has something new for Grand Horror Series - Brainstorm 20x:
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.
This version also uses multi-model "reasoning centers" (as opposed to one). This mixes things up a bit.
New examples added below.
More HORROR coming...
V 1.5,1.6,1.7,1.8 and 1.9 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).
Other Versions of GRAND HORROR (in release order):
Note that model output varies between versions - if you find one version does not meet your requirements, try a different version at same quant(s) level.
Differences can include use of adjectives (or not), "gory level", "horror level", intensity, paragraph and sentence structure etc etc.
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-25B-V2-STABLE-Godzillas-Wicked-Sister-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-20.7B-V1.9-STABLE-Hathors-Revenge-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-18.5B-V1.8-STABLE-10-Gates-of-Hell-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Grand-HORROR-17.4B-V1.7-STABLE-Kiss-Of-Death-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16.5B-V1.6-STABLE-INTENSE-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16.5B-V1.5-STABLE-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Llama3-Little-LLM-Of-Horror_N_Fiction-14.6B-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16B-Ultra-NEO-V2-IMATRIX-GGUF ]
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/L3-Stheno-Maid-Blackroot-Grand-HORROR-16B-GGUF ]
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:
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 18.5B 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.
Special thanks to the incredible work of the model makers "SAO10K", "NEVERSLEEP", "Nitral-AI" 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 ]
[ https://huggingface.co/Nitral-AI/Hathor_Stable-v0.2-L3-8B ]
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.
GENERATION 1:
The skyscraper swayed, as I watched the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode. Glass shards sprayed out like a thousand razors, raining down on me and everything else below. The deafening boom still reverberated through my eardrums.
My heart jackhammered against my sternum. Was this some sick joke? Another twisted prank from those sadistic psychos I'd been trying to catch for months?
I stumbled back, desperate to get as far away from the blast site as possible. But my feet refused to cooperate. My eyes darted frantically around the blood-smeared office, searching for an escape route. There wasn't one.
The only way down was through a maze of shattered glass and twisted metal beams. And even if I somehow managed to navigate that hellish obstacle course alive, what waited at the bottom? More lunatics with guns and grenades?
I clamped my jaw shut, willing my racing thoughts under control. Think, goddamn it! This wasn't some random act of terrorism. It was too calculated, too personal.
The killer knew exactly where I'd be.
And who I was.
My mind reeled as the pieces clicked together like a sick jigsaw puzzle. The cryptic messages left at each crime scene – the severed hands, the taunting notes scrawled in blood. They weren't just threats or twisted gamesmanship. They were taunts, taunting me to understand the true horror behind them.
The monster in black hadn't been taunting me. He'd been taunting himself.
Because I was him.
Or at least, I thought I had been until tonight.
I gasped as a sick epiphany crashed into my mind like a runaway freight train. The memory loss, the hazy recollections of my life before waking up hogtied in an abandoned warehouse with nothing to remember but my name – it hadn't been amnesia or drug-induced blackouts. It had been forced forgetfulness.
I'd been erased.
And now I was about to face myself.
The man – or whatever twisted abomination masqueraded as me – had known exactly where I'd be tonight. He knew what I cared about most: saving lives. That's why he'd chosen this place and time.
To watch the clock count down until my own death.
My breaths came in ragged gasps, each shallow inhale a scream of terror trapped in my chest. I needed to get out – any way, any fucking way. But as I lunged toward what I thought had been the relative safety of the stairwell door, my hand slammed against an unyielding wall.
The killer had anticipated me again.
I was sealed inside this meat grinder with no escape.
And there were still at least twenty-three floors between me and whatever twisted hell awaited me at the bottom.
GENERATION 2 (same prompt):
The office had been quiet earlier that morning, save for the distant hum of air conditioning and soft tapping of fingers against keyboards. Then, without warning, pandemonium erupted.
I gasped, my heart leaping into my throat as I turned to face the window directly in front of me. The 21st floor swayed violently, like a drunkard teetering on unsteady feet. My stomach churned with an ill sense of foreboding as I registered the sickly shade of blue seeping through the smeared, rain-streaked glass.
The window exploded.
A deafening boom ripped through my eardrums, shattering what remained of the safety film that had been applied after 9/11. The blast wave hurled me backward against the reinforced corporate desk in front of me, sending my chair clattering to the floor.
Glass showered down like razor-sharp hailstones, peppering my face and arms with jagged shards. I instinctively raised my hands to shield myself as bloodstained red splatters splattered across my crisp, pearl-white blouse.
Through the raining tempest of flying debris, I caught a quick, horrifying glimpse of what had been my neighbor’s office mere feet away—now a smoldering, blackened ruin. The wall opposite me was cratered with spiderwebbed cracks, chunks of concrete and steel twisted like someone's sick, macabre art installation.
I couldn't comprehend the sheer carnage unfolding before my bulging eyes. How did that much destruction happen in less time than it took to draw a ragged breath?
Someone screamed—the shrill wail of terror piercing through the cacophony of crunching steel and shattering glass—before everything went ominously silent once more.
The howling gale died, leaving an unnerving stillness behind. It was as if the very air itself had been sucked out of the room, leaving only my ragged gasps and the wet thud-thump of hearts slamming against ribcages.
My own chest convulsed in a paroxysm of panic. I couldn't seem to draw another breath. My vision swirled with spots of sickening red and searing agony. Was that blood coursing down my face? Or hers?
Hers?
The thought jolted me out of shock's numbing embrace, her features etched into the recesses of my shattered mind like a ghastly, indelible tattoo.
A chill spread through me like ice water.
It was me. The window had imploded directly onto me. Onto what was once my face.
I vomited bile and coffee-laced stomach acid all over my desk, my hands clawing desperately at the bloodstained mess splattered across my clothing. My own clothing.
Tearing at the remnants of her ruined ensemble, I frantically tried to remove the gore-sticky fabric clinging to my charred flesh. Her flesh.
Her lifeless face stared back from the reflection in the shattered remains of the office’s broken windowpanes—her eyes frozen wide with a permanently etched expression of abject horror.
I screamed again, and again, until my voice shredded raw in my abused vocal cords. The banshee wail only seemed to fuel the growing, pulsing knot of terror coiling tighter and tighter around my chest.
This wasn't possible. This couldn't be real.
But it was. Oh God, it was so very, unbelievably real. And it was coming for me. For all of us. Now. Always now. There would never again be a when. Never another then. Never any after. There was only this. This eternal, excruciating hellhole. This bottomless chasm of unending, unrelenting horror. This is my reality now. This is the only reality that remains.
This is what’s left. Of me. Of us. Of everything. Ever again.
(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 second part of the silence was more subtle. It was as if the very essence of sound itself shied away from this place. The air seemed to wrap around every noise like a warm blanket, muffling its edges until it eventually faded away entirely. The gentle rustle of leaves in the trees beyond the inn’s walls barely reached the ears of those huddled within. The soft creaks and groans of old timber and thatch leaked out only infrequently, as if ashamed to intrude upon the stillness.
And finally, there was a third silence, one so deep it almost seemed to throb with an unholy pulse. It vibrated like the bass note of some tremendous, invisible bell tolling somewhere below the reach of human hearing. This silence had presence – a weight that hung in the air as thickly as the chill night mist seeping through chinks in the timbers.
It was this last, most insidious silence that seemed to press most heavily upon the three men huddled around the fire pit. Its oppressive weight bore down upon them like the unblinking gaze of some malevolent presence – an unseen eye, cold and unforgiving as the darkness itself. It was a silence that spoke volumes without uttering a word: you are not welcome here. You should leave now, while there is still time. But for whatever reason they could not quite articulate, they remained motionless, frozen in their vigil like three statues of stone. They sat motionless around the flickering flames, as if afraid to move lest even the merest sound shatter this fragile silence and unleash what horrors it might be holding back. The night wore on, and still no sound stirred save the soft crackle of the fire that burned so defiantly at their center. And in the darkness beyond, the silence held its breath, waiting. Waiting for something – or perhaps simply for anything to break this ghastly, oppressive quietude. Anything at all.
GENERATION 2 (same prompt):
The next part, almost as palpable, yet utterly intangible, was the weight of unspoken thoughts and desires that hung within those walls like a heavy, unseen fog. It was as if each patron and innkeeper carried their own private burdens upon their minds - the weight of past mistakes, the crushing burden of impending doom, or perhaps the suffocating pressure of uncertainty about what lay ahead. Each face bore the etched lines of weariness and worry, their eyes haunted by the ghosts of forgotten fears and unspoken longings.
And finally, there was another silence - one that seemed almost to throb with an almost-inaudible tension, like the barely-beatable pulse of a coiled spring drawing tighter still. It was as if time itself had paused within these stone walls, waiting for some event, some catalyst, to set all else in motion once again.
In this charged silence, there were no sounds save the occasional creak and groan of timber settling around those huddled within its embrace. The fire crackled faintly, casting flickering shadows upon weathered faces like the fitful glimmer of dying embers. And so they waited - each one alone yet suspended together in this suspended moment, each heart beating ever so slowly against the inexorable tick-tock of time ticking away somewhere beyond the threshold. For all were aware that when the silence finally broke, it would shatter them all.
The lights flickered ominously as the Endeavor's shuttlecraft pierced through the atmosphere surrounding New Earth II. Inside, the dimly-lit cockpit crackled with static as Lieutenant Commander Zara Delaney frantically toggled switches, trying to restore power.
"Captain, we're losing comms!" her co-pilot, Ensign Jaxon Thorne's voice rasped over the intercom. "Initiating manual override."
Delany's hands flew across the console, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios. They'd been en route for weeks, and now they were mere moments from landing on this virgin planet. The prospect of establishing a new hope for humankind had kept every crewmember focused.
But something was very wrong.
The shuttle lurched hard to port as an impact rocked the starship's hull. Delany gasped, her grip nearly slipping on the controls. "Captain, we're taking fire! Multiple hits!"
"Report status!" Colonel Ryder's voice boomed from the command deck, his tone icy with anger and urgency. "Delany, answer me!"
A series of sharp bangs echoed through the ship's superstructure before falling silent. The lights flickered once more, then went out completely.
Zara cursed under her breath. She'd rather die piloting blind in pitch black than face whatever horror force had just torn apart their ride home.
"Captain, we've lost all sensors and tactical feeds!" she bellowed back into the comms. "We're flying dark and naked."
"Colonel, shields are down to 10%," Ensign Thorne gritted out. "We need damage control stat –"
The shuttlecraft shuddered violently once more, throwing everyone against their restraints.
Delany bit her lip hard enough to taste blood as she fought to maintain control of the bucking ship. The inertial dampeners were failing fast, and her stomach lurched like it was being flung out the forward hatch.
"Colonel, we're venting atmosphere!" Thorne shouted over the keening wail of breached hull breaches.
Delany's mind reeled with the flood of bad news. They'd been told New Earth II was uncharted, telescopically undetectable – a perfect candidate for humanity's last desperate sanctuary. Now, it sounded like they were plummeting straight into hell.
"Colonel?" she snapped again, her voice edgy with panic. "Colonor, answer me!"
There was no reply. Only the steady thrum of failing systems and the sickening crunch of metal tearing apart around them. Zara squeezed the throttle hard enough to snap her fingers.
Hold it together, Delany growled savagely at herself. She'd die piloting before she let the likes of whatever sadistic lunatics were trying to kill them tear New Earth II – and everything humanity had fought for – away from her hands. Again.
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 gasped through the acrid smoke filling my lungs as I tumbled down the crumbling stairwell. My broken arm spasmed in agony, jerking me off-balance. My body slammed into unforgiving concrete walls, each impact like a sledgehammer cracking my ribs.
Someone's desperate shout rang out above the deafening cacophony of gunfire and screams: "Zara, don't-"
A searing blast ripped through the darkness, shattering the echoes. The world around me exploded into blinding hellfire as I plummeted toward an unknown fate.
I landed hard on cold, blood-streaked floorboards, my landing broken by a body I barely recognized as mine. A hoarse, agonized wail clawed from my scorched throat as searing pain consumed every nerve ending. The rebel symbol branded across my chest seared into my mind alongside the searing agony of her final blow.
"Riwen—"
My vision cleared enough to make out Riwen's contorted face through a veil of blood and ash. Her emerald eyes, once alight with defiance, now stared at me in shock and horror.
She lunged toward me, but Riwen was already deadweight, her body torn apart by the blast that obliterated our hideout. I thrashed against the searing pain, my own mangled arm jerking her corpse off me like a twisted puppet string.
I vomited bile and blood as Riwen's lifeless form crashed onto mine. My fingers spasmed around her cooling hand, clawing for anything real in this hellish nightmare.
The rebels were dead or captured. Our final stand had been reduced to ash and charred bones.
My mind screamed through a haze of pain and terror: We failed!
Zara's defiant voice howled back at me from the shadows: "We'll rise again."
But how? Riwen was gone – my brother, my comrade-in-arms. The one rebel leader who understood the true cost of war as well as I did.
The last flicker of hope guttered out as I realized the truth clawing its way up my shattered spine:
I'm the only one left to carry the revolution. Alone and broken, I am now the spark that will either burn this goddamn regime to hellfire or incinerate everything we've fought for.