WARNING: MAY contain: Nutiness. Vivid prose. Purple Prose. Funny Violence. Over the Top Storytelling. Min of 2 eyerolls per generation.
This is a specialized prose / creative model based in Mistral, max context of 32k (or 128k+ with rope).
This model is a work of prose and creative madness using "Bagel 7B", and "Multiverse 7B" which created a model of 11B and then I added Brainstorm 40x to extend the model to 19.45B (88 layers, 795 tensors).
You never know what this model will come out with per "regen", never mind settings changes like temp and/or rep pen.
It has over the top prose, millions of lines of "dialog", tonnes of description, and country sized boatload of metaphors (scene, setting and character specific).
That being said, for some prompts / genres the prose can be very good for an AI. You may need 2-5 regens to get best results for a prompt.
You can use this model for story telling, scene generation, poetry, songs, writing, entertainment, crazy talk... anything creative.
You could use it for role play (it might be an odd journey), and even "regular chat" (see last example).
If you add additional instructions for "prose" output (IE "short, terse sentences"), this model many times will follow them very well - this is unusual.
Four examples of generation are below.
This model requires Alpaca, Mistral or Chatml template, and operates with temp 0-5, rep pen of 1.02+.
Raise/change rep pen SLOWLY ie: 1.02, 1.021, 1.022 etc etc.
Recommend temps under 1 for a wee bit crazy, 1-2 for crazy, and over 2 for way over the top, full on madness.
Suggested start settings:
Temp: .5 to .8 , Rep pen 1.02 to 1.05, Context min: 4k/4096 characters (as this model can output 2k+ at a time)
To limit output length, put limits (ie 800-1000 words) in the prompt AND/OR set a hard limit on output generation.
Definitely set a "hard limit" for role play and/or chat.
Different quants will give you slightly different prose, with higher quants giving strongest level of detail, "there" and nuance. Q4+ recommended.
Q2K:
If you use this quant you may need to lower temp (less then 1) and raise rep pen (1.08+) to address quality loss.
IQ4XS:
This might be the quant with the most differences (contrast creavity) compared to other quants.
ARM QUANTS:
These quants are for specific systems that support this. If you use on a regular computer / GPU token per second will be VERY SLOW.
Enjoy!
Settings: CHAT / ROLEPLAY and/or SMOOTHER operation of this model:
In "KoboldCpp" or "oobabooga/text-generation-webui" or "Silly Tavern" ;
Set the "Smoothing_factor" to 1.5 to 2.5
: in KoboldCpp -> Settings->Samplers->Advanced-> "Smooth_F"
: in text-generation-webui -> parameters -> lower right.
: In Silly Tavern this is called: "Smoothing"
NOTE: For "text-generation-webui"
-> if using GGUFs you need to use "llama_HF" (which involves downloading some config files from the SOURCE version of this model)
Source versions (and config files) of my models are here:
OTHER OPTIONS:
Increase rep pen to 1.1 to 1.15 (you don't need to do this if you use "smoothing_factor")
If the interface/program you are using to run AI MODELS supports "Quadratic Sampling" ("smoothing") just make the adjustment as noted.
Highest Quality Settings / Optimal Operation Guide / Parameters and Samplers
This a "Class 2" / "Class 3" 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) please see:
You can see all parameters used for generation, in addition to advanced parameters and samplers to get the most out of this model here:
Model Template:
Here is the standard Alpaca template:
Alpaca:
{
"name": "Alpaca",
"inference_params": {
"input_prefix": "### Instruction:",
"input_suffix": "### Response:",
"antiprompt": [
"### Instruction:"
],
"pre_prompt": "Below is an instruction that describes a task. Write a response that appropriately completes the request.\n\n"
}
}
Model "DNA":
Special thanks to model makers "jondurbin" and "MTSAIR"
Models Used:
[ https://huggingface.co/jondurbin/bagel-dpo-7b-v0.1 ]
[ https://huggingface.co/MTSAIR/multi_verse_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 "ALPACA" template.
Model has been tested with "temp" from ".1" to "5".
Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in BOLD.
(temp: 1.5, Rep pen: 1.02, Q4km, Alpaca)
"Bloody hell."
The gruff voice broke through the muffled whispers of the dim bookstore, as a flurry of heads swivelled towards the newcomer's entrance. A figure waltzed in, sporting the swagger and the finesse of a well-seasoned stage performer, even the stifling scent of the place's old pages failing to mask the trace of expensive colognes.
"Gathered the entire welcoming committee, I see?" His British accent rolled out, honey-rich, an oozing seduction to the ears of the modest audience.
A petite, pinned-back- hairdressed woman, the bookstore owner, adjusted her glasses. "We try to give the right warm welcome, Mr.— " she trailed off. "I'm sorry, my memory's a little—"
"Thorne," he interrupted, "Wylan Thorne. It's quite alright, dear. I've often been told it's a face and a name difficult to forget." His voice was smeared with an ireverent smile that could set a fire of unwarranted interest.
She straightened up, attempting a stoicism the intruder's presence threatened to melt. "Of course, Mr. Thorne. How may I— "
"Ah, no. The formalities. Please, just... " He wavel his hands dismissively, " Call me Wyl, like we're at the pub. We actors have to let the mask slip, occasionally, don't we?"
Her guard stiffened but his pleasantry, like a skilled magician's misdirection, fluttered her defenses. "Very well, Wyl," she agreed with a restrained politeness.
"Fine. I'm simply a humble reader escaping the glaring, unforgiving sun. It seems, here, one can indulge in the pages' company, uninterrupted."
She tilted her head to the glass-paneled entrance. "The weather has indeed been dreadful, haven't it, lately?" She steered the conversation away, hoping the gossip-mongers' eyes would be diverted.
"Hear, hear," he echoed, the mingling of respect and mockery laced within. "Though, the world outside doesn't always allow such refuge, does it?" He turned, a practiced sweep of the narrow aisles. "Such treasures! I'm in paradise!"
She sighed internally. "Yes, that's what our patrons tell us, but let me help you with— "
"Oh, don't bother, love. I know what I'm seeking." His finger glided the spines, a seasoned hunter in his habitat.
"May I still—"
"Not the 'May,' dear. The 'Let'. As the renowned Shakespeare would phrase, 'O, let this gentle _'."
The bookstore owner stifled the rising annoyance. "Right, sorry. Please, take your time."
"'Tis a habit of my profession, dear. The desire to play both roles."
She narrowed her eyes, a guard up despite her quivering curiosity. "Indeed, that does sound a fascinating profession. But one can still respect the sanctity of others' quiet." She moved to the other section, hoping the encounter's end might soon approach.
"Oh, but there's an artist in everyone, and sometimes, my darling," his voice was a silvery tranquilizer, "The actor in me simply finds a platform to indulge a few dramatizations."
Her hands fidgeted. "Yes, that's indeed so, and, ah, I should—"
"Pardon me for the disruption." He pulled a well- worn copy of 'Much Ado,’’ a knowing twinkle in his eye. "I simply had to plunge myself in this wondrous web of Beneath's crafting." He held the book to his chest like a cherished trophy, as if claiming a piece of this place. "A most unworthy exchange for this literary treasure, wouldn't you agree?"
'Yes, yes, quite the—' the bookstore owner began, a mumbled protest escaping the chambers of her politeness.
'Catch your breath, Ellyn, and keep your cool, it's just a blooming actor.' She reminded herself. 'And it'll soon pass.'
'Shall I assist with the, um, the— '
'I'm quite fine, darling,' he said, dismissing the gesture with a flourish of his hand. 'Just one final monologue, if I may, a small tribute to your inestimable collection.' He turned towards the gathering of silent listeners, a mischievous smile spreading. 'For an instant, these pages erase the clamor outside, granting solitude to a wandering soul. And I, the eternal tourist, bow my head, eternally grateful.'
'M— Mr., Wyl,' the bookstore owner began, stuttering slightly. 'I, uh, appreciate your appreciation— '
'You're very wel— '
'But it's time to re— '
'Indulge me one more line,' he interrupted, his tone imploring, a touch of earnestness seeping in the flamboyance.
'Just one?' she surrendered, and her voice barely hinted a capitulation, though a shimmer of intrigue crept into the depths of her eyes, betraying the rigid walls she'd guarded.
'A snippet of a heart-broken lover's soliloquy,' he recited, ' " O, be the earth the one in a myriad that holds, A thousand thousand blanks in her arms and hands, Thee to secure, a true-spelled book, 'ere the 'Vast' devours and makes oblique the 'Fair.' ''
Silence echoed. Then, a faint applause rippled, as the audience realized, the performance had, unexpectedly, drawn them.
'I should— '
'Lovely. It seems we're breaching the twilight of our unplanned sojourn. I, for one, would hate to keep this lyrical oasis in the night's grip.' He glanced at the clock, the first trace of a playful flustering marring his mask.
'Alas, a reminder that our 'play' is also a call for you to close the curtains. To let the shadows claim their stage.' She sighed, with a half-smile tugging the corners of her mouth.
' 'Tis the cruel dagger of our art, my dear, and now, I'm late.' He walked, an exit as graceful as his entrance, his presence slowly fading, leaving a lingering essence of intrigue in the quiet, quieting air of the small-town bookstore.
And as he disappeared in the darkness beyond the doors, the bookstore owner finally let her guard down, the spell of his presence, his words, still resonating, gently and unmistakably, a rhythm lingering in the echoes of that solitary evening in a quaint Welsh village, unbeknownst to them both, seeding the roots of a narrative yet untold.
Write me a science fiction story in 1st person present tense where the main character is a 15 year girl meets The Terminator with Dr Who materializing 3/4 through the story to save her while there is a tornado of sharks baring down on them. The setting is inside the Canadian National tower restaurant on a Saturday. The length of this story is 1000 words. For each character in the story ROLE PLAY them, and have them react to the situation/setting, events and each other naturally. This includes the main characters, the background character including kitchen staff and other patrons. The sharks should also have “character” too. Treat the tower and the restaurant too as characters. Spice up the narrative to the extreme with reactions all over the setting including character actions, and dialog. The Dr Who and The Terminator should also react to the situation too and comment on it.
(temp: .5, Rep pen: 1.05, Q4km, Alpaca)
"The Sharknado of the Canadian National Tower"
I, a fifteen-year-old girl, named Aria, inhale the aroma of roasted chicken as I stand at the glass-paned window, mesmerized by the breathtaking view of Toronto's sprawling cityscape. The Canadian National Tower's restaurant, with its sophisticated ambiance, was my birthday treat, a gift from my parents to make my day unforgettable.
"Mom, look at the clouds," I exclaim, pointing out the window, "They resemble a giant's shaving brush."
"The clouds do, dear," my mother replies, sipping her Chardonnay, "Enjoy your meal."
From the corner of my eye, a distant rumble echoes, but I brush it off as thunder. The sky begins to darken, and the wind picks up, causing the trees to rustle and the patrons to shuffle, instinctively seeking shelter.
"The air's thickening," my father cautiously says, "Let's go inside."
As we scurry inside, the restaurant's staff springs into action, ushering patrons to the interior. The kitchen staff, amidst the chaos, continues their routine, oblivious to the impending disaster.
"What's happening out there?" a middle-aged woman, a fellow patron, asks, her voice trembling.
"I'm not sure, but it's best we stay calm," a staff member reassures, "Let the professionals handle this."
The Canadian National Tower, a massive steel-and-glass tower, creaks, and its lights flicker. The building, with its mighty presence, seems to sense the danger, anticipating the imminent calamity.
"The alarm," a waitress shrieks, "We're supposed to secure all the windows."
The kitchen staff, now aware of the escalating situation, hastily complies, shutting the windows and locking the doors.
A deafening roar pierces the air, and the glass panes shudder. The sharks, an unconventional foe, plunge from the sky, their gargantuan bodies swirling like a whirlpool of death.
"Shark-tornado," I gasp, my voice breaking, "I've read about this in science fiction novels, but never...!"
"Quick, to the basement!" a staff member yells, ushering the patrons, "We'll be safe there."
The sharks, with an unnatural ferocity, devour the city's skyline, leaving a trail of destruction. The restaurant's windowpanes shattered, shards of glass littered the floor, as the sharknado's frenzy intensified.
"The time- Lord," I pray, "Please, any help!"
A brilliant blue-ish-white, swirling vortex, a familiar sight from my Doctor Who marathons, materializes in the chaos, a savior from another dimension.
"Doctor!" I cry, "You've come!"
"Hello, sweetheart," the Time Lord's voice echoed, "The TARDIS and I were nearby, sensing the temporal rift. I'm here to assist."
"Thank God," I stammer, "We're... we're doomed!"
"We're not," the Doctor reassures, "There's still hope."
The Terminator, a robotic entity, also appears, his metallic face expressionless. "I've been tracking the temporal anomalies, and I'm here to help."
"W-welcome," I stammer, "I've seen you in movies, but... I never imagined...!"
"We'll defeat this," the Terminator says, his voice monotone, "Humans and machines, together."
"Let's move," the Doctor directs, "We need to evacuate the restaurant's basement. It's the safest place."
"But the sharks," a patron panicked, "They'll reach us!"
"Don't worry," the Terminator reassures, "I'll create a barrier using my advanced systems."
"Hold tight," I instruct the patrons, "We'll make a dash for the basement."
The sharknado's toothy jaws, like a hungry beast, inches closer. The sirens of the restaurant's fire alarm pierce the silence, a desperate plea to seek shelter.
"Follow me," I shout, sprinting towards the stairs, "We'll make a run for it!"
The sharknado's guttural roar echoed, a precursor to the carnage. The kitchen staff and the patrons, gripping each other's hands, followed my lead.
"Run!" I screamed, "We have a chance!"
The Canadian National Tower, its steel-and-glass structure quivering with the force of the tempest, creaked under the pressure. The sharks, in a frenzy, crashed into the building's exterior, shattering glass and metal, as the walls buckled under the impact.
" hurry," the Terminator urged, "The barrier is ready."
"Here we go!" the Doctor exclaimed, his hands glowing with a whirl of blue-ish-white light, "Ride the time-stream, all of you!"
The world around us blurred. Time itself paused.
"It's happening," I gasped, my heart pounding.
"Hold on," the Doctor shouted, "We're almost there."
We emerged in a different dimension, a realm untouched by the sharknado's wrath. The Canadian National Tower was replaced with an expansive, azure-colored landscape, a celestial, tranquil haven.
"We're safe," I breathed, "Thanks to you, Doctor."
"No, you've shown courage, Aria," the Time Lord replied, "You've faced the unimaginable with grace and strength."
"But we can't leave the city to fate," I protested, "We need to help them."
"I'll be back," the Doctor promised, "I'll stop the sharknado from spreading. You and the Terminator, go warn the people."
"Thank you," I whispered, "I owe a debt of gratitude."
"The future will repay it," the Time Lord said, "Remember, sometimes, the most significant battles are fought with courage and determination."
"I will," I pledged, "We'll do this."
"Let's go," the Terminator stated, "I'll escort you."
I took a deep breath, my heart racing, and the three of us, a peculiar trio, emerged from the portal, ready to face the sharknado's fury.
"To save the innocent," I vowed, "And the city I've always loved."
The sharks' ferocity intensified. The Canadian National Tower's restaurant's remains crumbled, a silent witness to the heroism that unfolded within its hallowed walls.
"The Sharknado of the Canadian National Tower," the world would someday recount, "The day a young girl, a Time Lord, and a Terminator, defied the odds, and the impossible, to save a city."
"And they lived to tell the tale," the legend would say, "Of a sharknado, a bond forged through courage, and the indomitable spirit of the human spirit."
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...
(temp: .8, Rep pen: 1.05, Q4km, Alpaca)
My heart thudded in my chest like a panicked drummer, time seeming to slow in that dreadful moment. I clung to the metal frame of the broken window, my fingers digging into the cold, unyielding metal, as glass shards danced around us like an ominous ballet of doom. The skyscraper's sway intensified, a beast awakened from its slumber, as the once-pristine windows shattered and rained down like jagged snowflakes onto the streets below.
The thought of the hundreds of people trapped in the building's labyrinth of concrete and steel haunted me, a ghastly echo of my own inevitable fate. I was alone now, the only witness to this nightmare unfolding. The once-vibrant city outside was now a swirling whirlwind of chaos and destruction, the familiar landmarks distorted, twisted, and corrupted by the hand of an unseen malevolence.
My mind frantically raced through options, desperately seeking a way out. I knew the escape ladders were meant to lower from the ceiling, but now they were nowhere in sight. The emergency lights flickered on and off, casting eerie shadows across the shattered glass and twisted metal of the office's interior. A piercing scream echoed through the building as a nearby column buckled and fell, crashing into the floor below with a thunderous impact.
The smell of smoke permeated the air, suffocating and acrid, reminding me that time was running out. My mind reeled with the overwhelming sense of panic, knowing I had no choice but to face the unimaginable, to confront the abyss staring back at me from the gaping hole where the window once stood.
I took a deep breath, steeled myself against the fear, and leaped out into nothingness.
The fall seemed to stretch on forever, a descent into the heart of darkness itself. The city below was a macabre tapestry of destruction, a living canvas of terror. The skyscraper's shadow stretched like an enormous, hungry tentacle, reaching out to swallow everything in its path.
As I plummeted towards the ground, time seemed to slow even further, every moment stretching into a single, elasticated breath. I could see the details of each shattered window, each piece of broken glass shimmering like the shards of broken dreams and shattered hopes.
My body hurtled towards the earth with the speed of an arrow, a divine missile aimed at certain death. I could feel the wind whipping past my face, its cold, abrasive touch a stark reminder of the impending doom. The city below was an abattoir of concrete and steel, its twisted silhouette a grim reminder that no place was truly safe from the wrath of fate.
The ground loomed closer, and in a moment of pure instinct, I thrust out my arms, my fingers spread wide, prepared to brace myself for the impact.
The moment of collision was a violent, unholy baptism, a cataclysmic meeting of man and earth. I felt the earth's embrace, the impact of the concrete surface crushing my body like an insect beneath an unrelenting boot. I was engulfed by the darkness, swallowed by the void, my consciousness slipping away like a river into the depths of oblivion.
I woke to a world bathed in the eerie glow of broken streetlights and the lingering afterglow of explosions, a hellscape of twisted metal and shattered glass. My vision blurred, a veil of smoke and dust shrouding the reality around me. I coughed up a mixture of concrete dust and blood, my throat raw and hoarse from the journey through the abyss.
My eyes adjusted slowly, revealing a landscape of desolation. The city was in ruins, the skyscrapers' skeleton frames like the broken limbs of a once-majestic giant, now reduced to an unrecognizable shell of its former grandeur. I could see the crushed remnants of cars and buses, their twisted metal shells littering the streets like discarded toys of a cruel child's game.
The silence was eerie, the absence of any sound except for the faint tick-tocking of a distant clock, a haunting reminder of time passing, unconcerned by the chaos unfolding around us. I crawled through the debris, my hands grazing the cold, lifeless bodies of those who had failed to escape the wrath that had descended upon the city.
As I crawled onward, I noticed a faint glimmer of light in the distance, like a beacon calling me forward. It was all I had to guide me through the labyrinth of destruction. I clung to hope as my battered body struggled against the weight of despair and the overwhelming sense of hopelessness that surrounded us all.
I crawled on, through the chaos and the devastation, driven by the faint hope that there might be a chance for survival, for a respite from the nightmare that had swallowed the city whole.
As I neared the source of the light, I could see the outline of an abandoned building, its windows shattered and its façade cracked like the shell of a broken egg. I crawled closer, my heart pounding in rhythm with the relentless tick-tock of the distant clock, the only reminder of time's cruel march towards our inevitable fate.
I found a makeshift door, half-buried under a pile of debris. With trembling hands, I pushed aside the rubble, revealing a small, dimly lit entrance into the unknown. I crawled into the darkness, my heart heavy with the weight of the fallen city's soul, as the world outside continued to crumble into nothingness.
My journey through the labyrinth of the abandoned building was an odyssey into the depths of despair and survival, a stark reminder of the fragility of life and the relentless march towards the inevitable embrace of death. The skyscraper's swaying silhouette faded into the distance, leaving behind a chilling echo of a once-thriving metropolis, now nothing more than a tombstone for the dreams that had once shimmered in its windows.
The end was nigh, but so too was the beginning of a new chapter in this tragic tale of survival, as the skyscraper's shadow cast a final, haunting silhouette on the crumbling ruins of a city left to its fate.
( temp 1.5, rep pen 1.02, Alpaca, Q4KM )
Two hemispheres with differing climates and morphologies: Mars possesses a distinctive equatorial region with a 'noontime' summer and a more polar ' midnight' winter, producing two distinctly different climatic and morphological zones. The equatorial region is geologically active, displaying features such as volcanic eruptive foces, lava flows, and seasonal features like carbon diooide "aerial" or "a Martian" " polar caps" while the polar regions show ancient polar ice deposits, water- carved, erosional terrain, and an icy mantle of CO2 frost.
Th Martian 'S polar ' or ' polar cap' behaves more like a ' seasonsal' rather than permanent 'ice cap': It's unique in how it transforms with the seasonal cycles, growing during Mars' southern winter and then retreating during summer, showing evidence of an ice-CO2 transformation.
Marian polar volcanoes ( or "'Martian Olympus''): Olympus Mons is the planet's largest volcano, spanning an astonishing 2,700 kilometers at base with an height of 16-24 km, making it more prominent than Mount Everest could be placed inside its crater.
Valles Martis: The vast, networked channel system known as " Valles Martian " offers strong evidence of an once ancient river system that's been frozen and erosionally shaped, hinting at the past existence of liquid water on the planet.
'Mars' polar hood' & ' Polar vortex' phenomena: These refer to the seasonal hemisphere- wide, "seasonsal' atmospheric features caused by Mars' relatively weak overall atmosphere.
'The ' Martian " equatorial dust storms': these global dust storms, typically initiated at a singular 'sifting' point and propagating in the direction of the Martian atmosphere's "' solar ' driven " easterly' winds, can completely obscure the entire planet.
Martian Martian ' dust devils': Martian dusty, Earth- tornado lookalikes are common features seen in high-resolution photographs of the Martian surface, formed by convective thermal 'puffs' in the thin atmosphere.
The mysterious Martian polar " "flying " ' polar " ' banners' or "' martian ' "dunes"' are also known as ' ' ' dra " ' ' uma' in Marathi. These are linear, aligned, and curvilinear dunes, appearing as the wavelike patterns.
Martian Martian ' equatorial' and ' polar' landslide " ' lob' features' are surface expression of massive movements of a Martian terrain.
The planet's seasonal ice-cap cycle: In Mars' poles, carbon diooide transforms between solid, gas, and intermediate, sub-solid-solid " sublimative" states in the presence of the changing Martian day-night cycle and a low atmospheric pressure. This produces the unique martian ice " ' biphasic ' ' " cycles of ice " ' ' growth ' ' and ' ' recession ' '
These 10 features showcase the fascinating diversity and unique nature of Martian geography, atmospheric processes, and overall climate in comparison with our Earth.
Brainstorm 40x
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 completely different direction from what was outlined in this paper.
I developed a process where the conclusion layer of a model is duplicated and calibrated, in the case of this model 40 times.
This is a delicate process, with umm... a lot of rules.
For this model in particular Brainstorm is mapped as blocks, with "intended disruption" to alter and extend the power of the root model. Each layer/block interacts with each other block.
(there is more going on here too, this is rough summary)
The goal here is creative : prose uniqueness first and foremost.
Other brainstorm methods address logic/problem solving augmentation.
What is "Brainstorm" ?
The reasoning center of an LLM is taken apart, reassembled, and expanded.
In this case for this model: 40 times
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.
Here are some of the enhancements this process brings to the model's performance:
Other "lab" observations:
The process to modify the model occurs at the root level - source files level. The model can quanted as a GGUF, EXL2, AWQ etc etc.