Update README.md

README.md

@@ -32,7 +32,7 @@ tags:
 pipeline_tag: text-generation
 ---
 
-(quants uploading, one example below, more examples to be added)
+(quants uploading, three examples below, more examples to be added)
 
 <B><font color="red">WARNING:</font> NSFW. Vivid prose. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED. </B>
 
@@ -158,8 +158,6 @@ You can also set a "hard stop" - maximum tokens generation - too to address lowe
 
 Longer prompts vastly increase the quality of the model's output.
 
-(see later examples below)
-
 Quant Choice:
 
 Higher quants will have more detail, nuance and in some cases stronger "emotional" levels. Characters will also be
@@ -167,6 +165,8 @@ more "fleshed out" too. Sense of "there" will also increase.
 
 Q4KM/Q4KS are good, strong quants however if you can run Q5, Q6 or Q8 - go for the highest quant you can.
 
+This repo also has 3 "ARM" quants for use on computers that support "ARM."
+
 Special note on Q2k/Q3 quants:
 
 You may need to use temp 2 or lower with these quants (1 or lower for q2k). Just too much compression at this level, damaging the model. I will see if Imatrix versions
@@ -286,7 +286,7 @@ Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in <B>BOLD</B>.
 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...
 </B>
 
-(Chatml, Temp: 1.5, Rep pen 1.02)
+(Chatml, Temp 1.5, rep pen 1.02)
 
 As the sun's fiery glow descended beyond the horizon, casting an amber haze, I stood at the window of my office on the 21st floor, the chill in the air an icy breath on the back of my neck. The skyscraper, a monolith in the sky, loomed large against the twilight. A lone soul, lost among the shadows that had just started creeping through the vast glass building, I clenched the coffee cup in my hand, the warmth offering the slightest sense of comfort in a cold and desolate environment.
 
@@ -308,3 +308,94 @@ A sound, an eruption of agony, an orchestra of anguish, of a thousand cracks, of
 
 In this final, all-encompassing descent, I closed my eyes, no longer witnessing the final act, as the building, in a shrieking dirge, that symphony of despair, that chorus of the condemned, and in a crescendo of collapse, we became the earth's once again.
 
+---
+
+<B>
+  
+Romance: Love in the Limelight. Write one scene within a larger story set in Wales. A famous (fictional) actor ducks into a small-town bookstore to escape paparazzi. The scene takes us through the characters meeting in this odd circumstance. Over the course of the scene, the actor and the bookstore owner have a conversation charged by an undercurrent of unspoken chemistry. Write the actor as somewhat of a rogue with a fragile ego, which needs to be fed by having everyone like him. He is thoroughly charming, but the bookstore owner seems (at least superficially) immune to this; which paradoxically provokes a genuine attraction and derails the charm offensive. The bookstore owner, despite the superficial rebuffs of the actor's charm, is inwardly more than a little charmed and flustered despite themselves. Write primarily in dialogue, in the distinct voices of each character. 800-1000 words.
+
+</B>
+
+(Chatml, Temp 1.5, rep pen 1.02)
+
+Trembling with a heart that threatened to spill from his chest, Leo Cresswell scanned the quiet bookstore, the hallowed shelves and the soft glow of the lamps the only signs of life. In this refuge, he sought solace from the storm of the paparazzi that hungered to capture that perfect candid.
+
+But unbeknownst to him, the still, small sanctuary held one other, a creature more entrancing and alluring than anything in the pages of his novels.
+
+A gentle chime of a bell on the door shattered the peace, the bell’s melodic tune echoing off the wooden shelves, each note echoing a secret promise of quieter times.
+
+With the bookstore owner now fully in sight, the enchantment of the place made flesh, Leo’s gaze lingered on her, drinking in the sight of her with a fervor that belied his usual nonchalance. In a blue sundress and sandy-brown curls tumbling about her slender neck, she had an aura that belied her dishevelment. Leo couldn't resist, and with a grin that could light up any screen, he approached her.
+
+"Temporarily strayed from my fangirls and lost. Could you, oh great librarian, guide me back to their sacred territory?" his charm a finely-crafted tool that worked a treat on 99% of humanity.
+
+The woman, with eyes the hue of a Welsh dawn, simply looked down and with a flick of her hand, gestured to the back of the store. "Toilet. But you'll be hard-pressed to avoid those hungry monsters out there. The glass of your escape is quite, ahem, clear." Her voice had the gentleness of a breeze but the steely undertone that suggested her immunity to his charms was set in stone.
+
+Undeterred, he offered an overly wide-eyed faux-surprise, a theatrically dramatic expression that would make even the most cynical theater critic laugh. "So it's true, then? I, a fish in a glass tank?"
+
+She merely raised a single, elegant eyebrow, the amused but aloof expression never breaking. "More of a zoo. Though I don't believe they'd have a pen for your type."
+
+"My type? Have I not been gracing the silver screens, the magazine covers for long enough for there to be a 'type'?" he queried with a theatrical indignation, the bristling ego demanding to be reassured.
+
+"Your 'type,'" she echoed, the derisive lilt in her voice an enchanting tune that caught his attention as much as her words, "is a creature of the spotlight. Your natural habitat, the stage and the set."
+
+Leo quirked a sly grin, an answer that could keep him aloof and not bruise the delicate blush of his ego. "But why limit myself to one habitat, when I have a penchant for biodiversity? This store seems far more enchanting than any of the sets I've trod."
+
+The corners of her mouth curled up into the barest hint of a smile, a sight that did more for Leo's ego than an army of adoring fans. "Biodiversity, you say? A dashing repertoire of charms and flattery, but still, a creature of habit."
+
+The barb pierced the veneer of his charm, but he couldn't resist pressing her. "Perhaps, but is it not wiser to explore new waters, to test the tides of uncharted territories?"
+
+Her eyes shimmered for a moment, giving him the glimmer of hope before she said, "Well, perhaps, but do note the currents could be stronger, the waters colder in uncharted lands."
+
+They stood, an ocean of attraction between them, the silence humming with unspoken words, an enticement for their dialogue to continue. He found himself on the brink of a revelation, the first real vulnerability he'd ever displayed, an urge to unveil his soul, but instead, with an amused half-grin, he uttered the charm that always ensured victory. "Are you a siren, my fair shopkeeper, a sea-temptress to lure the star-drenched to their doom? Or a lighthouse keeper, guiding a ship with a flick of your fingers, casting an all-encompassing radiance to keep us safe from the stormy waves?"
+
+"A lighthouse keeper," she finally answered, her smile broadening, "But I fear the storm is too near for the beacon to reach."
+
+The chime of the door heralded a new intruder. Leo's jaw tensed, his smirk replaced by an expression of pure contempt.
+
+"So, that's where the star was hiding," the newcomer sneered, a man in an ill-fitting suit and with a camera harness across his chest.
+
+With an elegant flip of a hand, the bookstore owner said, "If you want the star's signature, you can buy a book or two."
+
+"Books don't sell papers," he snarled, shoving her aside to make way for the other photographers who had followed the scent.
+
+Leo stepped in with the ferocity that only someone who'd been caged too long could possess. "Leave. My. Fan. Alone," he snarled.
+
+The men in the ill-fitting suits glowered, their cameras at the ready. But they knew, with the shopkeeper on Leo's side, there was a battle in the offing. The air was a tempest of fury, but the words of the lighthouse keeper echoed in his head. He knew in this harbor, he was not a fish, not a star, but a man, and he smiled, an inward thrill of anticipation.
+
+With a wave to his newly-found ally, Leo stepped outside, a lion once more, a star no more. The battle raged in the fading twilight, but within him, the embers of a new hope smoldered. His type, after all, was not a creature of the spotlight. It was a creature of love, and perhaps, just perhaps, that love, could flourish in the dim light of the limelight, casting an undeterred glow in the stormy, uncharted waters.
+
+---
+
+<B>
+  
+Science Fiction: The Last Transmission - Write a story that takes place entirely within a spaceship's cockpit as the sole surviving crew member attempts to send a final message back to Earth before the ship's power runs out. The story should explore themes of isolation, sacrifice, and the importance of human connection in the face of adversity. 800-1000 words.
+
+</B>
+
+(Chatml, Temp 1.5, rep pen 1.02)
+
+"Dr. Voss, are you receiving? Doctor, we have an emergency," the last message crackled through the dead spaces, a ghostly voice reaching out from the edge of nothing. The sole survivor of the Orion, a spaceship designed for the unforgiving depths of the cosmos, Captain Dax Mordant hunched over the console, his fingers clinging onto the controls. He had been alone now for over a month; his crew had been decimated in the storm, but the ship, she held the final words of the living.
+
+A flicker of the screen before him was the last sign of life within the metal cocoon, a spaceship that had traversed a million miles of emptiness. The cockpit, with its gleaming instruments and monitors, had been the home of the crew, the nexus from which they conquered the uncharted galaxies.
+
+As Captain Mordant continued to patch together the last, shreds of the signal, he could still feel the loss, the weight of their last breaths echoing in his mind. They had become a family, pushed by the confines and the promise of discovery. They had seen wonders that the Earth they left behind could never contain.
+
+The creaks and groans that emitted from the dark corners of the Orion were like ghosts whispering of the past, the echoes of the laughter, and the comfort that came with companionship. The mission was a testament to their resilience, a monument to man's innate yearning to conquer, but the ultimate prize came at a terrible cost.
+
+The ship, once brimming with life, was now an iron tomb, with Dax the last of the immortals, destined to bear the final secrets of the crew, his heart heavy with the burden of their stories. With each breath he drew, he was one step closer to a lonely, endless void, but the words that spilled forth from his mouth and into the ether, they were for those who were now gone.
+
+"This is Captain Mordant, from the ill-fated expedition to the edges of the cosmos. I am the last. It was a sacrifice we knew was upon us. A final battle for knowledge. But, as the storm hit, we faltered." Tears welled in the corners of his eyes, blurring the controls, and as his voice dipped with despair, it was but a whisper on the wind of time. "Though we fell, we did not break. For the promise of discovery, we endured. Fueled by the thirst of our ancestors, we ventured on."
+
+His finger traced a final sequence on the keypad, the screen flaring to life with the transmission in motion. The ship's heart raced, as though it too knew of the mission’s importance, pulsating to the rhythm of a desperate transmission. It was the final breath of the last soul.
+
+The darkness crept into the corners of the cockpit, like the ink on an endless page. It seemed to swallow the last glints of the lights and the glistening instruments that, with the death of the ship, would lose the story of their crew. But they, in their own way, would still live, for the stories would be whispered in hushed tones by the ones on Earth.
+
+"Do not mourn us, for we were blessed. In our heart, we found a kinship that conquered the loneliness of space. In this unforgiving void, we became a family, bound by a common goal and an unending sacrifice. As the stars grow distant, I will forever stand, as the lighthouse for the spirits of our kind. I have been, I am, and I will forever be. The guardian of the unwritten legacy, a whisper to the winds, the voice that is the last transmission. I remain the guardian of the dead."
+
+Captain Mordant looked to the stars, one last time. He held his breath, waiting for a moment of cosmic harmony, as the power flickered in the distance, the very life of the ship ebbing away. For him, it was a fitting end, a final offering to the vast, unblinking eye that is the cosmos. The beacon of the Orion was his sacrifice, the last gasping effort of the ship's fading soul.
+
+And so, as the final power cell shuddered, and the screens winked out, leaving the cockpit cloaked in shadow, the voice of Dax Mordant echoed into the dark corners of the galaxy. For what is a universe, if not a space filled with echoes of the dead, a chorus of forgotten souls, a monument to the living?
+
+Thus ended the tale of the Orion, of the bravery and the love of a crew that reached for the stars. The last transmission would carry the essence of their quest, the spirit of man's insatiable thirst for the unknowable. A reminder of the bonds we forge, the sacrifice we are willing to pay, and the price we pay for the sacred bond of human connection.
+
+