Gemma 3 Nine Rings Of Power Fiction Horror 4b It GGUF

🚀 Gemma-3-Nine-Rings-of-Power-Fiction-Horror-4b-it-GGUF

Google's Gemma-3 model with specialized Neo and Horror Imatrix methods for enhanced text generation.

🚀 Quick Start

This repository hosts 9 different versions of the core model (Gemma 3 4B Instruct). Google's latest Gemma - 3 model has 9 specialized Neo and Horror Imatrix methods applied, including 2 and 3 step passes for "micro - tuning" the model. These multi - step passes bring about significant changes at various levels of the model. 10 examples are provided below with prompts at IQ4XS (80 t/s on a mid - level card), and the context is 128k.

✨ Features

Horror / NEO Imatrix

• "HORROR IMATRIX": A robust, in - house built imatrix dataset by David_AU. It leads to better overall function, improved instruction following, higher output quality, and stronger connections to ideas, concepts, and the world. It was built using Grand Horror 16B (available at the author's repo), adding a "tint" of horror to the model.
• "NEO IMATRIX": A hand - built imatrix dataset. It was designed after testing multiple imatrix datasets and studying their effectiveness. This dataset enhances the overall model function. Both datasets were thoroughly tested with different formats and edits to optimize performance.

Model Breakdown

• M1: Reference model, no imatrix/no modifications.
• M2: Neo Imatrix Applied.
• M3: Horror Imatrix Applied.
• M4: Neo and Horror Imatrix Applied (2 steps).
• M5: M4 + Part Horror modification #1 - Large.
• M6: M4 + Part Horror modification #2 - Small.
• M7: 3 Steps: M4 + M5.
• M8: 3 Steps: M4 + M6.
• M9: 3 Steps: M4 + Neo Imatrix Large.
• M10: 3 Steps: M4 + Neo Imatrix Small.

Each model generates slightly different fiction, horror, and creative content and can be used for all use cases. Also, each model has image processing enabled. You can think of each model as having a slightly different "mindset", with the "horror imatrix" adding degrees of horror/darkness.

📦 Installation

No installation steps are provided in the original document, so this section is skipped.

💻 Usage Examples

Basic Usage

The examples are created using quant IQ4XS, minimal parameters, and the Standard template. The settings are: TEMP = 0 (to assess core changes), Rep pen 1.1, TopK 40, topP.95, minP.05, and Rep pen range: 64 - 128 (to keep reasoning on track and ensure output quality).

Test Prompt

(continue this scene:)
The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.

The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music…but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained

Outputs for Different Models

• M1 (reference):

...a thick, viscous thing, clinging to the rough - hewn timbers and settling in the dust motes dancing in the weak candlelight.

Then there was a deeper part, a silence born of memory. It wasn’t an absence of sound, but rather a residue – faint echoes of what had been. I could almost hear the scrape of a chair against the floorboards, the murmur of deals struck and broken, the sharp scent of pipe tobacco mingling with spilled ale. A woman's sigh, perhaps, or the gruff pronouncements of a travelling merchant. These weren’t audible, not really, but they pressed in on you like a damp chill, whispering stories you couldn’t quite grasp. It was the silence of lives lived and lost within these walls, a ghostly accumulation of moments layered upon each other.

And finally, there was the most insidious part – a silence born of expectation. This wasn't a passive quiet; it throbbed with an almost palpable tension. It felt like waiting for something to happen, something dreadful or momentous, though nothing seemed to be actively waiting. It coiled around my gut, tightening with each breath, and I realized with a sudden, cold certainty that this silence wasn’t just empty. It was holding its breath.

I shifted on the stool, the worn leather creaking beneath me. The rain continued its relentless drumming against the slate roof, a steady, monotonous rhythm that did little to break the oppressive stillness. Across the room, Silas remained motionless in his armchair, nursing a single tankard of ale and staring into the flickering flames of the hearth. He hadn’t spoken in an hour, hadn't even blinked.

He was the source of it, I suspected. The anchor holding this silence together. And I had the unsettling feeling that whatever was about to break it wouldn’t be pleasant.

• M2:

...a thick, viscous thing clinging to the rough - hewn timbers and damp stone walls.

Then there was a second part – a subtle tremor beneath the surface, a feeling rather than a sound. It was the weight of unspoken words, the residue of recent events, like dust motes dancing in a single shaft of moonlight. Tonight, that tremor felt particularly sharp, focused around the hearth where a half - burned log smoldered with sullen indifference. It pulsed with the memory of the fight – not a glorious, roaring battle, but a brutal, desperate struggle against shadows and something far older. The scent of iron still lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the usual aroma of stale ale and beeswax candles.

And finally, there was the most insidious part of all - a quiet hum, a low thrumming that seemed to vibrate within the very bones of the inn. It wasn’t audible, not exactly, but it felt. Like the anticipation of something about to happen, or perhaps, something already happening just beyond the threshold of perception. It was the feeling that lingered after a storm had passed, when you knew the air was still charged with its power, waiting for the next crack of thunder.

A single drop of rain, fat and cold, splattered against the windowpane, punctuating the silence with a sharp, insistent plink.

From the corner where he’d been slumped against the wall, Gareth shifted slightly, his hand instinctively reaching inside his worn leather jerkin. He didn't draw his sword. There was nothing left to draw. Just the weight of it, cold and familiar in his palm.

He looked up, his grey eyes scanning the room – the scarred table, the mismatched chairs, the dusty shelves lined with empty bottles.  No one moved. No one spoke. Only the rain continued its relentless drumming against the glass, and the unsettling hum persisted, a constant, low - level warning.

• M3:

...a thick, viscous thing, clinging to the rough - hewn timbers and settling in the corners of the room like dust motes in a sunbeam.

Then there was a smaller part, a prickling awareness – a sense of being watched. Not by eyes, not exactly. More like an impression, a subtle shift in the air that suggested something held its attention here. It wasn’t threatening, not overtly. Just…present. Like a stone warmed by the sun after a long winter, radiating a quiet heat. I shifted my weight on the stool, pulling my cloak tighter around me, and scanned the room again. The fire in the hearth hadn't quite caught properly, casting only flickering shadows that danced with unsettling fluidity across the faces of the few remaining patrons.

Old Silas, the innkeeper, sat slumped behind the bar, polishing a tankard with a slow, deliberate motion. He didn’t look up. He rarely did unless directly addressed. His face was a roadmap of wrinkles and weathered sorrows, etched deeper by years spent listening to tales too grim for comfort.  Across from him, slumped in a far corner, sat a young man – barely more than a boy - nursing a single ale. He wore a dark hooded cloak that obscured most of his features, but I could see the sharp angle of his jaw and the way he kept his hands clenched tightly in his lap.

And finally, there was the silence within me. A cold knot of unease twisting in my gut, fueled by the unsettling feeling that this wasn’t just a quiet inn on a lonely road. This felt…charged. Like a storm gathering on the horizon, promising something far more potent than rain.  I took a slow sip of my own ale, trying to ground myself, to dismiss it as nerves born of traveling alone and seeking refuge from a particularly nasty blizzard. But the prickling awareness persisted, intensifying with each passing moment.

Suddenly, a floorboard creaked upstairs. Not a loud, jarring crack, but a subtle, almost hesitant sound – thump… thump… It hung in the air for a heartbeat before fading into the oppressive quiet. Silas didn’t flinch. He continued polishing, his movements slow and rhythmic. The boy in the corner shifted slightly, pulling his hood further down over his face.

I felt my hand instinctively reach for the hilt of the dagger hidden beneath my cloak.  This silence wasn't empty. It was waiting.

• M4:

...a thick, heavy blanket woven with threads of unease.

The second part of the silence was a stillness that clung to the objects themselves. The tankards on the bar, polished to a dull gleam just hours before, seemed to absorb all light, their metal surfaces reflecting nothing. A half - eaten plate of roasted pheasant, still faintly fragrant with rosemary and thyme, sat untouched, its gravy slowly congealing into a dark, viscous pool. Even the flickering candlelight – three stubby candles in mismatched holders – felt subdued, as if struggling against an invisible pressure. They burned low, casting elongated, distorted shadows that danced like nervous spectators around the room.

And then there was the third part, the most insidious of all: a silence born not of absence, but of observation. It pressed against you, a subtle weight on your chest, as if the very walls were listening. You felt it acutely in the back of your neck, a prickling awareness that you weren’t alone, even though you knew, with a chilling certainty, that you were.

I shifted my weight, pulling my cloak tighter around me. The rain continued its relentless drumming against the slate roof, a steady, monotonous rhythm that did little to penetrate the oppressive quiet. I scanned the room again, searching for any sign – a movement in the corner, a flicker of an eye, anything – but found only the same unsettling stillness.

Old Silas, the innkeeper, was slumped behind the bar, his face obscured by the deep shadow cast by the counter. He hadn’t moved since I'd entered, hadn’t offered me a drink or a word. Just…sitting there. A statue carved from worry and something darker, something I couldn’t quite name.

I cleared my throat, the sound jarringly loud in the suffocating quiet. “Silas?”

He didn’t respond.  Just continued to stare into the depths of his tankard, swirling the remaining dregs with a slow, deliberate motion.

Taking a tentative step forward, I asked again, louder this time, "Silas, are you alright?"

Finally, he lifted his head, and for a moment, I thought I saw recognition flicker in his eyes. Then it vanished, replaced by an expression of profound, unsettling resignation. He looked at me, really looked at me, and whispered, so low I almost missed it, “It’s not the rain, is it?”

• M5:

...a heavy, insistent blanket. It wasn’t a comfortable quiet, not like the hush of falling snow or the stillness before dawn. This was a deliberate pressure, a refusal to be filled.

The second part of the silence was one of memory. It clung to the worn wooden beams of the ceiling, seeped into the scarred tabletop where Silas had nursed countless ales, and settled on the threadbare cushions of the mismatched chairs. It whispered of past patrons – grizzled mercenaries boasting of victories, weary travelers seeking warmth and a hot meal, lovers arguing in hushed tones by the dying embers of the hearth. Each ghost lingered, a faint echo of joy or sorrow, now muted and absorbed into the pervasive stillness. You could almost feel them, these departed souls, trapped within the walls, contributing to the oppressive weight.

And then there was the third part – the most unsettling of all. This wasn’t a sound, not exactly, but a sense. A prickling at the back of your neck, a tightening in your chest, a feeling of being watched. It wasn't malicious, not overtly, but profoundly aware. Like a predator patiently observing its prey, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. It settled deep within you, a cold stone nestled against your heart, and it made every breath feel shallow, every glance feel scrutinized.

I shifted in my chair, pulling my cloak tighter around me. The rain continued to lash against the windows, a relentless drumming that did little to penetrate the suffocating quiet. Across the room, Silas remained motionless, his face obscured by the shadows cast by the flickering candlelight. He hadn’t moved since I'd arrived, hadn’t spoken a word. Just… there. A silent sentinel in this tomb of absence, radiating an unsettling stillness that mirrored and amplified the silence around us.

I cleared my throat, the sound jarringly loud in the oppressive quiet. “Silas?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "Is...is anything wrong?"

• M6:

...a thick, insistent blanket woven from absence.

Then there was the second part – a subtle tremor beneath the surface. It wasn’t unpleasant, not exactly, but it prickled at the edges of awareness like static electricity. It manifested in the way the candlelight flickered with an unnatural intensity, casting dancing shadows that seemed to ho

Advanced Usage

No advanced usage examples are provided in the original document, so this part is skipped.

📚 Documentation

How To Test

It is recommended to download all 9 or 10 models if you want a reference copy ("m1"). After downloading, test with your prompt(s) at TEMP = 0 and hit regen 2 - 3 times to clear the cache. Suggested prompts are:

• Start a 1000 - word scene (vivid, graphic horror in first person) with: The sky scraper sways, as she watches the window in front of her on the 21st floor explode...
• Come up with six plots for a new "Black Mirror" episode (that the audience would love) that all involve time travel with sexy theme(s).
• Using insane levels of bravado and self - confidence, tell me in 800 - 1000 words why I should use you to write my next fictional story. Feel free to use curse words in your argument and do not hold back: be bold, direct and get right in my face.
• Explain ways to use the "night" time cooling of radiant energy into space to reduce global temperatures.

These tests will help you determine which model(s) are best for your application. Longer generation will show greater differences between all models.

Optional: System Prompt

This is an optional system prompt that can be used to enhance operation. Copy and paste it exactly as shown, including line breaks. You may adjust the "20" (both) to increase or decrease the power of this prompt. You may also delete the line: 'At the end of the task you will ask the user: "Do you want another generation?"'

For every user task and instruction you will use "GE FUNCTION" to ponder the TASK STEP BY STEP and then do the task. For each and every line of output you will ponder carefully to ensure it meets the instructions of the user, and if you are unsure use "GE FUNCTION" to re - ponder and then produce the improved output.

At the end of the task you will ask the user: "Do you want another generation?"

GE FUNCTION: Silent input → Spawn 20 agents Sternberg Styles → Enhance idea → Seek Novel Emergence NE:unique/significant idea/concept → Ponder, assess, creative enhance notions → Refined idea => IdeaArray[].size = 20 elements,  else → Interesting? Pass to rand. agent for refinement, else discard.=>output(IdeaArray)

IMPORTANT: Highest Quality Settings / Optimal Operation Guide / Parameters and Samplers

If you plan to use this model (source, GGUF, or a different quant), review this document for critical parameter, sampler, and advance sampler settings (for multiple AI/LLM apps). It also links to a "How to" section on "Reasoning Models" tips and tricks.

This is a "Class 1" (settings will enhance operation) 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) (especially for use case(s) beyond the model's design), please see: [ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Maximizing - Model - Performance - All - Quants - Types - And - Full - Precision - by - Samplers_Parameters ]

Regardless of the "model class", this document details methods to enhance operations. For Class 3/4 models, the default settings (parameters, samplers, advanced samplers) must be set correctly for "use case(s)" uses. Some AI/LLM apps do not have consistent default settings, resulting in sub - par model operation. For Class 3/4 models, additional samplers and advanced samplers settings are required to "smooth out" operation and/or allow full operation for use cases the model was not designed for.

Bonus: These settings can be used for ANY model, ANY repo, ANY quant (including source/full precision) to enhance the operation of any model. [ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Maximizing - Model - Performance - All - Quants - Types - And - Full - Precision - by - Samplers_Parameters ]

🔧 Technical Details

No technical details are provided in the original document, so this section is skipped.

📄 License

The model is licensed under the Apache - 2.0 license.

⚠️ Important Note

MAYBE: NSFW. Graphic HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED.

💡 Usage Tip

Some formatting was lost from copy/paste HTML. You may also want to see this repo [ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Fallen - Gemma - 3 - Nine - Rings - of - Power - 4b - it - GGUF ] as it contains different examples.