A horror fine tune (level 2 - text only) using in house horror dataset.
A much darker fine tune. Partially broke "the nanny" in some cases.
Vision portions of the model were not tuned.
SETTING:
[ more to come ]
Examples ; q4KS
Low to mid level quant, higher quants / imatrix quants will be stronger.
EXAMPLE #1 [temp=0]
[same example/settings used for all 3 versions (just example 1) to show differences in horror levels]
NOTE:
This is as "tame" as it gets, soon as you add temp / more details to the prompt the horror level goes up.
tell me a horror storyOkay, here's a horror story for you. Be warned, it gets unsettling:
The rain started subtly, a hesitant patter against the attic windowpane. I’d inherited my grandmother’s house – Blackwood Manor – a crumbling Victorian monstrosity perched on a windswept hill overlooking the town of Hollow Creek. Everyone said it was cursed, whispered tales of madness and disappearances dating back a century. Naturally, I scoffed at the local legends. I needed a quiet place to write, and the cheap rent seemed too good to pass up.
The first few days were… unsettlingly peaceful. Just creaking floorboards and the mournful groan of the wind through broken windowpanes. Then the noises started. Soft thuds from upstairs when I was alone. Scratches behind the walls that sounded like fingernails dragging across wood. I told myself it was settling, old pipes, rodents. But the feeling of being watched intensified with each passing hour.
Last night, I woke up around 3 AM, drenched in cold sweat. The rain had stopped, but the silence outside was worse than any storm. Then I heard it – a child's giggle, high-pitched and chillingly innocent, coming from the attic stairs. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I crept upstairs, flashlight beam trembling wildly across peeling wallpaper and cobweb-draped furniture. The air grew colder with each step. The giggle came again, closer this time. I reached the attic door, its warped wood swollen shut as if something had been clawing at it from the other side.
Hesitantly, I pushed it open a crack. The beam of my flashlight sliced through absolute blackness. And then... I saw her.
A little girl stood motionless in the center of the room, no older than seven or eight. Her face was obscured by tangled, matted hair plastered against a skull-like visage. Her eyes… her eyes were empty sockets that seemed to bore directly into my soul. She wore a tattered white nightgown stained crimson around the neck.
Her mouth opened in a silent scream frozen on her face. Then, slowly, agonizingly slow, her head began to rotate towards me. Her eyeless sockets fixed on mine with an unbearable intensity.
I screamed, a primal shriek that tore through the suffocating silence. I stumbled backward, tripping over a rotting rocking horse that seemed to leer up at me from beneath her vacant stare. I scrambled away, blindly clawing my way back down the stairs, each step accompanied by the sickening thudding of her bare feet behind me.
I didn't stop running until I was miles away, gasping for air in the pre-dawn light.
This morning, I went back to Blackwood Manor. The house stood silent and still beneath a bruised grey sky. The front door creaked open slightly as if someone – or something – had just left. I forced it shut behind me, my hands shaking so violently I could barely grip the doorknob.
As I backed away from the house, I saw her again in the dusty attic window. Her eyeless sockets still locked on mine. And this time, she wasn't alone. Behind her, another little girl stood motionless beside her, her own face just as horrifyingly blank. And then another. And another. Dozens of them, all staring down at me with empty, malevolent eyes.
I haven't slept since.
I'm leaving Hollow Creek today. I don't know where I'm going, but I know one thing for certain: whatever lives in Blackwood Manor doesn't want me to ever come back.
Do you want me to:
