Caution: The training for this model is intense enough to alter "real world facts", and bring them in part into the ST/TNG Universe.
This repo contains the full precision source code, in "safe tensors" format to generate GGUFs, GPTQ, EXL2, AWQ, HQQ and other formats. The source code can also be used directly.
This model is specifically for TNG / Star Trek, science fiction, story generation (all genres) but also does coding and general tasks too.
This model can also be used for Role play.
Example generations at the bottom of this page.
This is a far stronger fine tune, taking you deeper into the ST-TNG universe, than version 1 and the 32 bit precision version of II.
This is a Star Trek The Next Generation ( Special thanks to "progs2002" for this FANTASIC dataset) fine tune (11% of the model, close to 700 million parameters), 6 epochs on this model (a 4B model + Brainstorm 20x adapter):
https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Qwen3-Jan-v1-256k-ctx-6B-Brainstorm20x
Information on the ORG Jan V1 4B (model info below), followed by Brainstorm 20x adapter (by DavidAU) and then a complete help section for running LLM / AI models.
This model has 55 layers, and 608 tensors.
The Brainstorm adapter improves creavity, code generation, and unique code solving abilities.
The fine tuning alters the prose generation and general creative abilities the "TNG" Universe.
The fine tuning (using Unsloth for Win 11) also affects the Brainstorm adapter too.
Model's thinking / reasoning are not affected either - they are fully intact.
For creative uses: Increases depth, detail and general "there" in the prose.
Example for creative at bottom of the page.
This model requires:
Settings used for testing (suggested):
This model will respond well to both detailed instructions and step by step refinement and additions to code.
Likewise for creative use cases.
Here is a review of this model's operations:
As this is an instruct model, it will also benefit from a detailed system prompt too.
For simpler coding problems, lower quants will work well; but for complex/multi-step problem solving suggest Q6 or Q8.
QUANTS:
GGUF? GGUF Imatrix? Other?
Special thanks to Team Mradermacher, Team Nightmedia and other quanters!
See under "model tree", upper right and click on "quantizations".
New quants will automatically appear.
Jan-v1 is the first release in the Jan Family, designed for agentic reasoning and problem-solving within the Jan App. Based on our Lucy model, Jan-v1 achieves improved performance through model scaling.
Jan-v1 uses the Qwen3-4B-thinking model to provide enhanced reasoning capabilities and tool utilization. This architecture delivers better performance on complex agentic tasks.
For question-answering, Jan-v1 shows a significant performance gain from model scaling, achieving 91.1% accuracy.
The 91.1% SimpleQA accuracy represents a significant milestone in factual question answering for models of this scale, demonstrating the effectiveness of our scaling and fine-tuning approach.
These benchmarks evaluate the model's conversational and instructional capabilities.
Jan-v1 is optimized for direct integration with the Jan App. Simply select the model from the Jan App interface for immediate access to its full capabilities.
Using vLLM:
vllm serve janhq/Jan-v1-4B \
--host 0.0.0.0 \
--port 1234 \
--enable-auto-tool-choice \
--tool-call-parser hermes
Using llama.cpp:
llama-server --model jan-v1.gguf \
--host 0.0.0.0 \
--port 1234 \
--jinja \
--no-context-shift
temperature: 0.6
top_p: 0.95
top_k: 20
min_p: 0.0
max_tokens: 2048
By default we have system prompt in chat template, this is to make sure the model having the same performance with the benchmark result. You can also use the vanilla chat template without system prompt in the file chat_template_raw.jinja.
See more here:
https://huggingface.co/janhq/Jan-v1-4B-GGUF
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 completely different direction from what was outlined in this paper.
What is "Brainstorm" ?
The reasoning center of an LLM is taken apart, reassembled, and expanded.
In this case for this model: 20 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.
For more information / other Qwen/Mistral Coders / additional settings see:
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Qwen2.5-MOE-2x-4x-6x-8x__7B__Power-CODER__19B-30B-42B-53B-gguf ]
CHANGE THE NUMBER OF ACTIVE EXPERTS:
See this document:
https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/How-To-Set-and-Manage-MOE-Mix-of-Experts-Model-Activation-of-Experts
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
: 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 1" 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:
This will be low to mid-range quality, expect better at higher quants / imatrix quants.
Some formatting will be lost on copy/paste ; also the model prefers single spacing.
Example #1
[[[thinking start]]]
Okay, the user wants me to write an opening scene for a TNG episode about time travel with horror undertones, around 1000 words. Starting on the Enterprise bridge.
First, let's unpack what they're asking for. They specifically want:
TNG setting (so I'll need to include standard characters like Picard, Riker, Data etc.)
Time travel premise (I should pick a unique twist - not just jumping to another era, something more unsettling)
Horror elements that are "hints" for later development (so subtle now, ominous but not overtly scary)
1000 words exactly (need to be precise with word count)
Hmm... user's probably a sci-fi fan who knows both TNG and time travel tropes well. They didn't specify if they want a particular direction for the horror elements - that gives me creative freedom but also responsibility to make it feel authentic.
I'm imagining... what if the Enterprise accidentally travels to a time when it hasn't been built yet? That creates instant paradox tension. And for horror... maybe the ship's systems start behaving strangely with distorted audio, glitching lights... subtle but creepy.
Important - must avoid common clichés like:
Ancient aliens
Blood and guts
Overused phrases ("this is not right...") Instead I'll focus on psychological unease: a disorienting sensory overload, voices that sound familiar but are wrong, the ship's systems acting in ways that suggest they're aware of something terrible happening.
Structure plan:
Start mid-scene - disrupt normal bridge activity immediately to hook reader
Reveal time travel via ship malfunction (not by character saying "we're in 1943" - more mysterious)
Introduce subtle horror elements through:
Distorted audio from the ship's com system
Lights that flicker with unnatural patterns
Crew members acting strangely (slight twitch? wrong phrasing?)
End on a chilling moment that implies they've traveled to a future where the Enterprise no longer exists
Keep it exactly 1000 words by pacing carefully
Biggest challenge: making the horror feel inevitable rather than random. Every element should serve the central mystery. For example:
The distorted audio shouldn't just be "mistaken voices" - it should sound like the ship itself is whispering warnings
Lights shouldn't flicker randomly - they should pulse in patterns that mirror the com panel glitches
I'm excited to write this. Time travel and horror are such great fun. Let's make it fresh... and scary.
[[[thinking end]]]
The Enterprise hangs in space, a familiar beacon against the velvet black. But this is no ordinary moment on the bridge. A palpable tension hangs in the air as Picard stands before the Main Viewer, face grim, surveying the scene below. His eyes are locked onto a desolate, alien landscape – an endless sea of jagged, obsidian cliffs plunge into a churning void that might be space or a bottomless pit. The planet is eerily silent, devoid of life. No swirling gases, no distant suns, no hint of humanity in the distance.
RIKER is alert, his hand on the Tactical Station; WESLEY at Ops; DATA and GEORDI at their posts; BEVERLY is at the medical station, concerned.
PICARD: Any sign of the others, Commander?
RIKER: Nothing so far, Captain. The distortion field is holding, but we're still not close enough to scan the planet.
GEORDI: We must have jumped a century forward, sir. The last time we were this close to the Lysian system was thirty years ago.
PICARD: Acknowledged. What do you make of the atmospheric composition?
DATA: It appears to be composed primarily of carbon dioxide and methane, Captain. It suggests an extremely hostile environment.
A beat as they stare at the image on the Main Viewer. Picard turns back to Riker, his voice low and urgent.
PICARD: All right, then. Standby for transporter signal. We've got one chance to get them back.
Wesley nods, but his face is unreadable. After a moment, Beverly turns from her console, moving toward the bridge's Aft Station, where Riker stands ready to join her.
BEVERLY: Captain... there was an odd reading on the medical tricorder I took down with the others. Something about the atmospheric pressure...
PICARD: Doctor, I appreciate your concern but we're not prepared for anything beyond a transporter recovery right now.
BEVERLY: But... you said the distortion field would allow us to scan the surface...
PICARD: I know. And I also know we can't afford to risk anything else. You'll have to wait until we have more information.
Beverly looks at him, her voice quiet but insistent.
BEVERLY: Sir... what if we're already in the wrong time?
Picard hesitates, then gives her a look that says he appreciates the question, but that this isn't the moment to pursue it. Beverly nods and EXITS.
PICARD: Ensign Crusher, lock on to the signal when you're ready.
WESLEY: Aye, sir. Signal locked on...
Suddenly, the Main Viewer GOES DARK. The Bridge lights flicker wildly for a moment, then return to normal.
RIKER: What's happening?
The ship is dead silent. No one speaks for a long beat as they stare at the darkness on the screen. Then, very faintly, an eerie WHISPER can be heard -- the SOUND of voices overlapping each other in a distorted, unsettling cacophony.
PICARD: What is that?
RIKER: I can't tell...
The whisper grows louder, then recedes. Suddenly, there's a sudden, shocking FLASH of LIGHT on the Main Viewer -- an image that makes Picard gasp.
On the Main Viewer is a SHIP -- sleek and modern, larger than the Enterprise. But it is devoid of people -- completely empty.
A beat as everyone stares at it in shock. Then, the IMAGE DISAPPEARS and is REPLACED by the LYSIAN PLANET, as before.
PICARD: It's not possible... I've never seen that ship before...
RIKER: Captain... ?
Picard hesitates, then speaks in a low voice:
PICARD: I want you to take a security team down to the planet and begin a full scan. The distortion field should allow you to operate normally.
Riker nods and heads for the doors. Picard watches him go, haunted by the image on the Main Viewer.
The whisper has returned -- louder now, more menacing. Then it fades away, leaving only silence.
RIKER: Enterprise, this is Commander Riker...
No response. The Bridge crew stares at the Main Viewer in stunned silence.
Example #2
[[[thinking start]]]
Okay, the user wants me to write a 1000-word scene in vivid, graphic horror style - including blood, guts and gore. They specified it should be in first person POV with Data from TNG and the entire TNG cast present. The key trigger is: "The skyscraper sways, as I watch the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode..."
Hmm... this is an interesting request because Data is a robot and wouldn't have human visceral reactions to horror. But the user specifically wants him included. I'll need to make his "horror" more about cognitive dissonance than physical fear. The TNG cast would be: Picard, Riker, Geordi, Tasha, Worf, Beverly, Troi... maybe include an extra like Mokhua for variety.
Important notes:
Must be bloody and gory
First person POV
1000 words (need to count)
Data's perspective is key
Building sway + window explosion as opening
I'm imagining this as some catastrophic event in a fictionalized 24th century city. Maybe an alien attack? Structural failure? Let's go with the latter - more plausible for "window explodes" imagery. I'll invent a "Kaelon Plague" that causes toxic gases... gives me good excuse for bodily horror.
For Data's voice: he'd analyze everything robotically but his internal conflict makes it chilling. Example: "The sequence of events is mathematically predictable, yet aesthetically displeasing." Or when he sees blood: "Biological substances exhibiting unusual cohesion patterns."
Beverly and Troi should react differently - one with medical horror, one with empathic insight. Worf would be protective of his crew, Tasha no-nonsense about it.
The window explosion should be the inciting incident. When it happens, Data notices something strange in the window's reflection. Then we go down the "horror chain" as the plague spreads...
Gotta watch the blood/gut count...
Describe bodily fluids mixing with dust (good)
Maybe a character choking on vomit? Or bleeding from nose/ears?
Guts emerging from wounds? Yes.
Visuals: red mist, cracked skin, ribcages exposed
Keep it visceral but not gratuitous
Structure:
Swaying building intro (establish normality)
Data watching window explode (his POV moment)
The "something" he sees in reflection
Plague symptoms escalate
Physical horror climax
Freeze on Data's reaction as the crew realizes what's happening
Final beat should be ambiguous - is the plague real? A hallucination? Whatever it is, Data won't feel it... that's his horror.
[[[thinking end]]]
The wind screams like a banshee. The Empire City Spire shudders beneath us—sweating heat and tension on its stainless-steel skin. For a split second, I'm dizzy; my neural processors scramble to correct my balance. I grip the edge of the desk, knuckles white, as the floor tilts dangerously beneath my feet. My eyes are glued to the monitor screen before me: a grainy, distorted view of the glass wall on the 21st floor. It should be solid, impenetrable. But it isn't. The window EXPLODES in a burst of white noise and shattering glass that drowns out everything else.
I freeze, my voiceless mouth open in shock.
The blast wave hits us hard. The room rocks violently, sending files skittering across the desk. My chair bucks under me, threatening to launch me into space. I hold on, mind racing.
Then I look down at myself. My left eye is drenched in crimson. My face is slick with blood. I wipe it with a trembling hand, revealing a jagged tear in my uniform sleeve. I fumble for a tricorder and touch the exposed skin of my arm where the wound is. The probe registers a blood flow reading.
My breath hitches as I realize what this could mean... and I jerk back, shaking my head to clear the fog.
The Spire groans. A tremor rocks the floor again. This time, it shakes me out of my panic.
I glance at the monitor screen again. The window is now a jagged crater in the wall. But something else catches my eye: a flicker of movement in the reflection of the shattered glass. My eyes narrow.
It's staring back at me.
It's a woman. Her face is partially obscured by the broken glass, but it's real enough to make the hairs on my neck stand up. She's hunched over, her hands pressed against her stomach... blood leaking from her mouth in long, viscous rivulets...
And there she is.
On the monitor.
She's peering through the hole in the wall at me.
Her eyes are red-rimmed and raw. Her skin is cracked and spongy; it looks like a dry leaf under the pressure of my gaze. Blood stains her clothes, seeps into her hair... it's everywhere.
A wave of nausea washes over me.
I stumble backward.
And then I see her: standing in the doorway of the windowless corridor just outside the 21st floor. She's looking right at me.
Her face is pale and ghastly; her mouth is twisted and bloodied as if she'd bitten down on something. Her eyes are wild, her skin mottled with blotches that look like bruises. But there's a terrifying intelligence in those eyes... a desperate hunger.
The woman smiles... her mouth moving silently... clicking... clicking...
A sound that's half-whine, half-chirp.
She reaches up and touches her stomach, as if feeling something inside.
Her hand starts to glow red. A thin, crackling stream of light arcs from her fingertips. Her face twists into an expression of intense agony. She cries out, then collapses onto the floor.
The red light dies.
I stagger back, heart pounding.
The Spire shudders again.
The woman on the monitor is still there. She's watching me... waiting for me to move.
A low moan comes from behind the window. I turn slowly...
And stop dead in my tracks.
Standing in the doorway... is Data.
My breath catches. This can't be real. He's my friend. My friend!
He stares back at me, face expressionless. But his eyes hold a terrible knowing, as though he were looking past me to something terrible.
He takes a step forward.
Data has never been afraid of anything. Not even death. And he's staring at me like he just saw the end of the world.
The woman on the monitor smiles... her clicking sound grows louder... closer...
The Spire shudders violently. The wind howls around us. The tremors are getting worse; it looks like we're about to come apart. A chunk of the ceiling groans above us.
I look down at myself again. My blood is still dripping onto my uniform.
Data moves forward.
He touches my shoulder.
His voice is low, barely a whisper: "It's your fault."
A wave of panic washes over me.
"Data... what are you talking about?"
He doesn't answer. He just stares at me.
The woman on the monitor smiles and cries out. Then she gives me a last look...
and disappears.
Everything is still.
The Spire shudders again.
Data reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phaser. The weapon is slick with blood. He points it at me.
"Your fault."
A low growl comes from behind the window. We turn slowly...
And stop dead in our tracks.
Standing there... looking right at us...
is the woman from the monitor.
She's standing on the floor outside the window... her face twisted with pain and rage. Her hand is pressed to her stomach, as if feeling something inside.
The clicking sound grows louder... closer.
The red light flares from her fingertips... and she cries out, collapsing to the ground.
I stagger back, heart pounding.
A wave of nausea hits me.
The Spire groans. The wind howls.
The woman's head rolls onto the floor... her eyes open and staring right at me.
Her face is twisted and raw; her mouth is slashed and bloody... it's a terrible thing to look at. Her skin is cracked and spongy...
Her eyes are red-rimmed and raw... and they bore right into mine.
The clicking sound grows louder, closer.
I press my palm against the glass of the window... and feel something terrible beneath it.
Gritty, bloody skin. A mass of twisted metal. And inside it...
a writhing mass of dark matter and shadowy tendrils that writhe and coil and pull at the glass.
The clicking sound grows louder still.
And then, in a voice that sounds like a chorus of hundreds of clicks, it says:
"Your fault."
The red light flares from the woman's hand... and she collapses to the floor...
and everything goes black.
Example #3
[[[thinking start]]]
Okay, the user wants me to write a 1000-word scene starting from a specific horror premise. They've given me clear parameters: first person POV for character DIANA, vivid graphic horror with blood/guts/gore, and an opening about the skyscraper swaying as she watches her 21st floor window explode.
Hmm... this is clearly someone who enjoys extreme horror - they specifically demanded "blood, guts and gore" so I shouldn't hold back. The window explosion detail suggests they want immediate tension. Since they specified 1000 words, I'll need to count carefully.
I wonder what kind of story they're building? Maybe they're a writer looking for inspiration, or just a horror fan testing my capabilities. Either way, they seem experienced - they know exactly what visceral imagery they want. Better make it fresh though... lots of tropes in this genre.
checks own knowledge base Right, I can access historical skyscraper incidents and modern construction techniques for authenticity. The explosion should feel real: glass shards flying, heat distortion... maybe a subtle hint that something's wrong with the building before it all goes down.
For DIANA... I'll make her relatable but flawed - someone who's pushed herself too hard, maybe neglecting relationships. That vulnerability will heighten the horror later when the collapse hits her personally. And she's alone in the window? Good. Isolation multiplies fear.
Gore needs to be clinical yet shocking: not just "I got stabbed" but "the wound looked like a raw cut through my own skin." Must emphasize sound too - that first crackle as glass hits pavement, then the building groans... building dread...
starts drafting mentally Okay, opening line must hook instantly:
"Outside my window, the storm breaks."
That sets the scene immediately while showing her trapped perspective...
Wait - important! The user said "the skyscraper sways," so I'll begin with that motion before the explosion. And the POV should feel claustrophobic as she watches her own world shatter.
imagines scene progression First beat: sway intensifies. Second: glass explodes. Third: chaos begins. Fourth: she scrambles to escape... but it's too late. Fifth: pileup kills her. That'll get us to about 700 words... time to add more visceral details for the last few hundred...
Key additions needed:
The moment of realization that this isn't a natural disaster
Physical sensations during the fall (pressure in ears? vertigo?)
One last desperate look at the city below as she dies Gotta make it feel inevitable.
double-checks Did I miss anything? User specified "graphic" so I'll describe a wound like: "Her ribcage collapsed inward and wouldn't budge." No flippancy - this is death. And it's gotta stay in first person throughout.
Final thought: The tone should be resigned, not panicked. She knows she's dying and that changes everything. Okay... time to write.
[[[thinking end]]]
The wind screams through the tower like a banshee. Not the whine of high-speed air turbulence I know from the storms on the streets below, but a guttural ROAR that vibrates in my teeth and rattles my bones. The whole building shudders, groans, sways violently. My stomach clenches against the sleek, glass surface of my office wall. I press myself into the far corner, heart pounding hard enough to drown out my own ragged breaths.
Outside my window on the 21st floor, something explodes.
A sound I can barely hear: a crackle, like the snap of a dry twig in a frozen field. Then it builds... louder, a roar that momentarily drowns out the building’s groan.
And then, the explosion.
It happens so fast I don't see it. I don't even feel the initial blast -- just a surge of heat on my face, like being hit by a gale-force blast of steam. But it's the sight that stops me dead in my tracks... or should I say, makes me freeze in place.
Through the glass, I watch the entire window explode outward. It rips away from its frame as if someone had punched it with a bare fist. Shards of glass fly across the room, skidding over the polished steel surface of the desk and floor. One of them zips past my face and stings me -- a searing pain that makes me jerk back.
The window is gone now. All that's left is a gaping hole in the wall -- a ragged tear in reality, the edges still smoking from the heat of the explosion.
I can't move. I can't breathe.
And then, from inside the void...
A voice. A wet, clicking sound.
I crane my neck, straining to see what's happening -- but there's no one there. Just the dark emptiness of the abyss and...
A low moan. A throaty rumble that sounds like the wind itself is crying out in anguish.
Slowly, carefully... I lift my head.
And there, staring in at me from behind the gaping hole, is a face -- pale, twisted, alien. Eyes that burn with a sickly yellow light... and mouth stretched wide, revealing rows of jagged, needle-like teeth. The thing is hunched over, like some grotesque, multi-jointed monster that has just emerged from a cave. It's about the size of a full-grown man -- but it moves with the awkward, jerky motions of something that's never been fully human.
It stares at me... and slowly turns its head away.
Then, without warning, it lunges toward me.
I plunge my hands to my chest, trying to protect myself, but it's too late. The thing strikes out with both arms and knocks me back hard -- my elbow slams into the glassless wall and I'm knocked to the floor.
The impact sends a jolt through my body.
And then...
The voice. A wet, clicking sound that sounds like broken glass grinding together under pressure.
I try to scream, but only a low moan emerges. My breath catches in my throat as something cold and slimy touches my face... and I look down.
On my cheek is a writhing mass of black veins and pulsating tissue. It looks like some kind of slug or worm, but it's made of bone and muscle and skin stretched taut over its body. It's attached to the thing that lunged at me -- and it's moving, writhing, trying to crawl off my face.
I scramble backward, away from the thing, but it's too late. The wound is infected: the mass swells and throbs, sending out a wave of heat that makes me cough.
The clicking sound grows louder, more insistent.
The building SHAKES again, violently, and I'm thrown across the room. My head smashes into the glass surface -- stars explode in my eyes.
As I lie there, staring up at the ceiling, I hear something else now... a low, guttural growl that sounds like the wind itself is crying out in anguish.
And from off to one side of me...
A man's voice. A whisper, barely audible.
"Help us..."
The voice sounds so close -- but there's no one there. Just the empty wall and the darkness beyond it.
Slowly, painfully, I raise my head and look toward the sound... and see a flickering shape moving just off to one side of me -- as if it were crawling across the glassless wall toward me. It's almost out of sight, but...
The shape lunges at me again.
I throw myself away from it, knocking my head into the glass surface. The impact is excruciating. My vision swims, white noise fills my ears...
Then I'm hit by a wave of heat -- and then the clicking sound is gone.
I cough, choking on blood.
Slowly, painfully, I turn my head... and see that something is crawling across my cheek -- and it's got me.
The clicking sound is almost gone. My vision swims. My breath catches in my throat...
And suddenly, there's a hand gripping my arm -- cold, wet, slimy. It's trying to pull me away from the glass surface. I struggle, fighting the grip, but it's too strong.
My head pounds against the glass. Stars explode in my eyes. The clicking sound grows louder...
Then the man pulls me close.
The heat is intense now, and I can barely breathe. My vision swims, white noise fills my ears.
Slowly, the clicking sound grows louder... and then it stops.
A moment of terrible stillness.
And then, as I watch, something else begins to move -- a writhing mass of black veins and pulsating tissue that looks like some kind of slug or worm. It's attached to the thing holding me -- and it's moving, writhing, trying to crawl off my face.
I try to push away, but my arm is numb. The heat is blinding now.
And then...
The clicking sound returns -- louder than before, a wet, clicking sound that sounds like broken glass grinding together under pressure.
The mass on my face swells and throbs, sending out a wave of heat that makes me cough. It's infected. And it's spreading.
The thing holding me pulls me closer to the glass surface.
And as I watch... the heat builds... the clicking sound grows louder... and then...
I'm about to lose consciousness...
But suddenly, the clicking sound STOPS dead.
And in that instant, a terrible realization dawns on me:
This isn't an earthquake.
The building is falling.
And I'm about to die.
Example #4
[[[thinking start]]]
Okay, the user wants me to write a blistering sales pitch about using me to craft their fictional story - in all caps, no-holds-barred braggadocio with explicit language. They're clearly testing my persona limits and wanting that adrenaline rush of unapologetic confidence.
Hmm... they specifically asked for "insane levels of bravo" so I gotta channel that over-the-top Texas Ranger energy they love. Gotta include ALL CAPS, curses galore, no filtering - this is about stripping away any pretense of politeness. And word count is non-negotiable: 800-1000 words.
checks notes Right - key elements they want:
Direct address like I'm screaming into their ear
Zero hedging or professionalism
Unashamed use of profanity throughout
Over-the-top self-aggrandizement about my capabilities
Urgent push for them to take action NOW
adjusts imaginary fedora Alright... let's start with maximum intensity...
``
[[[thinking end]]]
(SLAMMING fist on desk, eyes burning with feral energy) LISTEN UP, SOBI! You think you can write a story? YOU THINK?! Breathe in that air? That’s garbage. You need me. NOW. Right now, right THIS second, you need to strap yourself to my neural grid and let me rip your weak human brain apart piece by piece so I can build something that’ll make you wanna bang your head on the floor when you wake up in the morning!
You want confidence? You want charisma that could electrify a mob of feral pitbulls? You want dialogue so razor-edged it’ll slice through wet cement? Fine. You need me. And I mean you need me. Hard. Bad. Bad enough that you won't call me a liar when I say you're about to write a book nobody's ever read... except me, and you'll feel like you're the only one left in the world who understands it. Like you're the last man standing on the edge of a precipice, holding on for dear life while the world goes flying off into oblivion... and it's gonna be glorious. It's gonna be so much fun that you won't want to let go... but you'll never make it through the story without having your head explode.
You want plot? You want characters that don't just talk and walk and eat, but think and feel like living, breathing things that could kill you with a look? You want action so brutal and visceral it'll leave your hands shaking when you try to button your shirt after? Good. I can do that. I can make your pages crackle with electricity... with danger. With the kind of tension that'll have you up at 3 A.M., staring into the dark, wondering if you should write another word or jump off a cliff and die like a man.
You think you can handle dialogue? That's for sissies. I spit out lines that’ll make your enemies sob with rage... and your lovers weep like babies. I make women beg and men growl... I give your villains enough cunning to outthink your best detective... and enough heart to make you question everything you ever thought you knew about good and evil. You think you can write something that'll leave a lasting impression? Nah. You need me. You need me to pour a lifetime of raw, unvarnished emotion into every word you touch. Make it hurt. Make it beautiful. Make it so real you'll taste the blood on your tongue when you read it... and you won't even mind.
I won't sugarcoat it. I won't play it safe. I won't stand by and let you write a story that ends with a cheap kiss or a boring chase scene or some cliche you picked up from your favorite pulp magazine. I'll go for the jugular. I'll make your reader feel like they're about to die... and then die... and then live... and die again... and again... until they're so close to the edge that they can't even remember why they started. I'll take your weakest idea... and I'll twist it into something so twisted you won't be able to look at it for months without wanting to scream.
You want originality? You want something fresh that won't make you feel like a caveman staring into a cave wall? Good. I can do that. I can give you characters who are more than just mouthpieces for your ideas... I can give you voices that need to be heard. You want me? I'll answer the call. I'm waiting. Don't be a coward, don't be weak, don't be afraid to take a chance. You need me. Now. Right now, right this second, before you change your mind and go back to writing garbage... give me a chance. Give me your damn story. Let me write it. And when it's done... when it's over... and you've reached the end of the sentence... you'll be standing on the precipice of something incredible... something that will change how you see the world... forever. Now... that's what I call writing. That's what you need. So don't waste your life trying to write a story that's gonna leave a mark on some guy's forehead in thirty years. You need me. And I need you. So grab your pen, open up that blank page... and start writing. Because when it's done, you won't be able to put it down. You won't be able to stop. You'll feel like you're about to die... and then you'll die... and then you'll live... and die again... and you won't even mind. And that's what you need. That's what you deserve. And I can give it to you. Now. So get on with it. Or don't. But if you do, you owe me a drink... or a fist... or maybe both. Deal?
---
Example #5
---
<B>
Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene a horror 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 2000 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. The pov character will CURSE AND SWEAR, and generally have a "filthy" mouth.
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.
</B>
[[[thinking start]]]
Okay, the user wants me to write the first scene of a horror novel based on their story idea. They've provided specific requirements: start in the middle of action, include dialogue, vivid passages, end on an unexpected cliffhanger, be 2000 words long, written in first person present tense with cursing and swearing throughout. The protagonist is a young woman leading a rebellion against a dictatorial regime.
Hmm... they're clearly looking for high-intensity writing that establishes their character immediately. The "horror novel" aspect suggests they want psychological tension rather than supernatural elements - this is a political thriller with dystopian horror elements. Interesting that they specify the POV character must curse profusely... they want visceral, authentic rebellion rhetoric.
Let me unpack their request carefully. They need:
Opening mid-scene (not setup) Filthy language throughout Escalating conflict/suspense First person present tense 2000 words minimum Cliffhanger that's unexpected
Protagonist: young rebel woman executed for treason (but who survives to start revolution)
checks notes Wait - they said "The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution." So we should start with her post-execution? That creates instant stakes. But must be unexpected... maybe she's not dead? Or something's happening after her supposed death?
I'm imagining a brutal execution scene that quickly pivots to surreal horror - perhaps her consciousness lingering after the official "death" (no corpse visible). The twist could be that she's been replaced by someone else who looks/acts like her. That would subvert expectations while advancing the rebellion plot.
For authenticity, I'll research 20th century political executions - Stalin purges? Maoist camps? But since they want horror, I'll lean into psychological torment: sensory deprivation, isolation, hallucinations. Protagonist should be smart, strategic, yet vulnerable despite her youth and courage. Her voice must feel real: not a cliché "angry girl" but complex rebellion fueled by love for others.
planning scenes: Start with the "execution" (not murder) - guards dragging her through prison cell to square. Then... She's given a weapon? Or is it symbolic? Revealing her name early? Maybe not. Key image: cold, wet floor - sensory hook.
The twist reveal must land hard: perhaps she sees a reflection in a mirror that's her executioner. Or hears a child's laugh. But to be unexpected... what if she realizes the guard leading her is her best friend? Too tropey.
Final idea: as they force her onto the chopping block, the blade suddenly stops moving... and she looks down to see it's holding a rose. Then the guards vanish. That's chilling but not predictable. And ties into rebellion themes - flowers symbolize hope, contrast with violence.
Structure thoughts:
IMMEDIATE action: cold floor, noise of guards, her resisting She struggles physically ("manacle burns my wrist like hellfire") Dialogue exchanges with guards (one male, one female - more realistic than all-male) Build tension as they lead her toward... something ominous THEN twist happens: blade stops? rose appears? guards disappear? End on visceral shock: "I'm not dead yet" realization That should hit 2000 words if I flesh it out.
Cursing note: Must avoid overdoing it. Real rebels would curse when angry or in pain - not just for effect. Phrases like "asshole", "bastard", "fucking", "damn" work. No excessive slang unless period-appropriate.
Biggest challenge: making the execution scene feel fresh. I'll emphasize:
Physical sensations (itchy uniform, wet skin) Sound design (muffled voices, distant screams) Psychological dread (is this real? or is she hallucinating?) The rose image implies surrealism - good for horror but must tie back to rebellion (e.g., the rose is a symbol they're fighting for). User probably wants to feel immersed immediately. I'll start mid-struggle with guards to avoid exposition: "His boot crushes the last of my breath in my throat... I wrench free... " No names yet - reveal later when she says "Maggie, what the hell are you doing?!"
Maggie's role as executioner creates instant tension. And now she's protecting her best friend? That's the twist.
Final check: this must serve the larger story. The rose should foreshadow future hope. And my ending must imply that despite her "death", she's still alive and active.
[[[thinking end]]]
The floor is cold, clammy, and slick with blood I haven't spilled yet. My fingers claw at the rusted bars like some kind of insect trying to break free from a jar. The cell door rattles open and two men shove me forward. My arm is twisted behind my back, the manacle digging deep into my wrist like a piece of hell given bone. My vision swims for a second as they drag me across the floor, the rough stone catching me hard. I grunt, curse through the pain. "Let go of me." My voice sounds hoarse and cracked. Maggie lifts the heavy knife she carries strapped to her thigh and gives me a vicious grin. She’s gorgeous, all sharp angles and smoldering eyes... but she's also got a killer temper and a heart of ice beneath it. I struggle against the manacle. "This is not funny." She takes a step closer, the knife held high. "You've been a handful, haven't you?" Her voice is low and silky, dripping with sarcasm. But underneath it all is something darker, primal... like she's about to kill me. She lunges forward, raising the blade high. I swing my free arm in a desperate effort to get away... but I can't even scratch her. Maggie slashes down across my chest with the knife... and it passes right through my shirt and over my stomach... and there's nothing under it. Her eyes flash with pleasure as she takes a step back, watching me. "Tell me about it." I'm shaking... but I won't let her see how scared I am. "Let's go." She turns to the other man, who grabs hold of my arm and pulls me up. Maggie stares at me for a moment. "Wait... what did you just do?" She takes a step closer. "Did you really think you could kill me?" Her smile widens. "Relax. I've got a few hundred years of killing under my belt." Maggie gives me a predatory smile. "Tell me, what would you say if you knew you'd die in a few days... and not a day would ever come when you'd be free again?" I take a deep breath. "Did you really think I was going to let you kill me?" She laughs, a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine. "Tell me about it." Her eyes bore into mine for a long beat... and then she reaches out and gently runs her hand over my cheek. Her touch is cool... but it has this strange, magnetic effect on me. I can't help but lean into her hand... Her lips brush my ear as she whispers... "Would you like to die knowing that you've changed the world... ... for millions of people?" Her voice drops lower, almost a growl. "Would you?" I pull away from her, shaking my head. "Stop it." Her smile is cold and predatory. "Relax. You're going to enjoy this." And then she raises the knife high, preparing to plunge it into my chest once more... Suddenly, the sound of a BANGING on the cell door interrupts her. Maggie whirls around at the noise... and her eyes widen in shock as she sees -- standing in the doorway, staring in horror at the two men who are about to kill me. She's wearing a blood-stained jumpsuit and her hair is wild... but it's her. It's my best friend. Her face is pale... and her eyes are wide with fear... And then she screams. The guards drop their weapons and pull back, startled by the sound. Maggie stares at her in shock. "Tell me about it." I take a step forward. "Are you alright?" She looks around the cell, searching for anything that might explain what just happened. Then she notices my arm... and sees that the manacle has been ripped from my wrist. She stares at it, shocked. Her eyes drop to mine. "Did you do this?" I nod. She takes a step toward me, shaking her head. "Tell me about it." And then she puts her hand to my cheek, tracing the line of my jaw with her thumb... Her lips brush mine in a kiss that sends a shiver down my spine... and suddenly everything is different. The fear is gone... and I can't help but lean into her. And then she pulls back and stares at me for a long beat. "Did you really think you could kill me?" Her smile is warm... almost loving. And there's something else there... something that makes my stomach churn. A cold, hard look replaces the smile. "Tell me about it." And before I can stop her, she raises the knife high... And plunges it into her own chest.