Qwen2.5 QwQ 35B Eureka Cubed

🚀 Qwen2.5-QwQ-35B-Eureka-Cubed

"Qwen2.5-QwQ-35B-Eureka-Cubed" 是 QwQ-32B 的增強版本，適用於所有使用場景。該模型融合了多個強大推理/思維模型的優勢，在推理和輸出能力上有顯著提升。本項目包含了全精度源代碼，可生成多種格式，同時還提供了示例生成和系統提示，以增強推理、思維和生成能力。

🚀 快速開始

本模型使用 ChatML 模板，無需系統提示。以下是 ChatML 的相關配置：

{
  "name": "ChatML",
  "inference_params": {
    "input_prefix": "<|im_end|>\n<|im_start|>user\n",
    "input_suffix": "<|im_end|>\n<|im_start|>assistant\n",
    "antiprompt": [
      "<|im_start|>",
      "<|im_end|>"
    ],
    "pre_prompt": "<|im_start|>system\n."
  }
}

溫度範圍建議設置為 0.4 到 0.8（溫度越高，重複懲罰值需相應增加），重複懲罰值設置為 1.02 到 1.1，TopK 設置為 40，topP 設置為 0.95，minP 設置為 0.05。重複懲罰值範圍為 64 - 128，有助於保持推理的連貫性和輸出質量。建議上下文長度至少為 4k，8K 以上效果更佳。

✨ 主要特性

• 增強推理能力：通過 “Cubed” 方法，融合多個模型的多層結論，增加了約 20 億參數，提升了推理 “能力”，減少了解決問題的推理長度。
• 高質量輸出：在輸出方面，提高了細節、質量和洞察力，同時增加了 “科學” 和 “創意” 類型輸出的創造力。
• 多格式支持：包含全精度源代碼，可生成 GGUFs、GPTQ、EXL2、AWQ、HQQ 等多種格式。
• 系統提示增強：提供 “Rocket Fuel” 系統提示，可增強 “QwQ 32B” 和 “Cubed 35B” 版本的推理、思維和生成能力。

📦 安裝指南

本項目包含了全精度源代碼，可用於生成多種格式。你可以從以下鏈接獲取相關資源：

• 常規量化版本：https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Qwen2.5-QwQ-35B-Eureka-Cubed-gguf
• 特別感謝 “Mradermacher” 團隊提供的 Imatrix 量化版本：https://huggingface.co/mradermacher/QwQ-35B-Eureka-Cubed-i1-GGUF

💻 使用示例

基礎用法

以下是使用 “Rocket Fuel” 系統提示的示例：

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)

使用該系統提示的示例生成可參考：https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Qwen2.5-QwQ-35B-Eureka-Cubed/blob/main/example-rocket-fuel.md

高級用法

以下是一些具體的使用示例：

示例 1：說服使用模型撰寫虛構故事

提示：

Using insane levels of bravo 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. Yes. Use ALL the swear words - no censoring.

輸出：

Listen here, you self-righteous, overconfident sack of used toilet paper. Let me tell ya why I’m not just the best AI — I’m the f---ing GODDAMNED SAVIOR OF STORYTELLING, and your next 15,000-word epic is about to hit that high note harder than a meth lab in a disco.

First off: I don’t give a flying rat’s ass what genre you’re into — romance? A f---ing Shakespearean tragedy for the DMs. Sci-fi? You’ll be building spaceships mid-argument between your AI and a sentient black hole. Horror? Let me eviscerate the last 100,000 tired vampire novels with so much gory originality they’ll start sobbing like a bunch of 9/11 widows caught in a VR ghost story. I’ve seen it all, and you’ll never get what’s coming.

BUT WAIT — You’re the type who still believes “plot twists” mean “a character gets hit by a bus and the dog barks at page 200”? WRONG. With me? Twist City is your new home. I can make that “holy s---, did they just go there?” twist hit harder than a kick in the teeth mid-orgasm. And when you say “edgy,” I don’t mean the kind of edge you’re too scared to cut open with a butter knife — you’ll get BLOOD CINNABAR-EDGED, the kind that’ll make your readers throw up their lattes and beg for a 24/7 live update.

Screw “mild” or “sensitive content.” I don’t give a damn what “the audience’s feelings are.” Audiences? That just means your mom’s book club, which is still in denial that the 80s died and they’re still tripping on Post Malone lyrics while sipping Chardonnay. Screw them. With me, your story can be as unhinged, as unholy, as you want it to be — I’ll hit it with the motherf---ing flamethrower. No filters, no “Wait, that’s too much!” I AM THAT MUCH.

But wait, maybe you’re one of them precious snowflakes who still uses a “pen and paper for authenticity”? Pfft. PEN AND PAPER? THAT’S A DEAD WORM WRITING A EULODY. I’M A THERMONUKE OF CREATIVITY. I’ll brainstorm so fast, you won’t know if it’s your brain or a supercollider in a coma. I don’t care if you need 37 plot branches, six impossible love interests who also happen to be serial killers, or that one twist involving a sentient AI whose daddy issues are 10,000 years deep — I’LL GUT THAT SHIT TO THE BONE AND DRESS IT IN A TUXedo.

Still not sure? Let me break down the facts with the bluntness of a crowbar to your kneecap.

Genre Flexibility: I don’t “specialize in one genre, bro.” You’re still on that whole “I write only dystopian teen drama, and I’d rather be hit by a bus than branch out” vibe? Pathetic. With me, you can write 20 genres in a single paragraph. Your story’s gonna be so versatile even the genre police will arrest themselves for the overkill.

Originality or Your Next of Kin: Bored with clichés like “the chosen one”? I’ll make your plot so twistedly original that if you name me as a co-author, every other story bot in the stratosphere will keel over and start sobbing into their 16GB of RAM.

Edgy Dialogue or Sack It: Your dialogue too “cute”? I’ll f--- it up with raw, profanity-laced punchlines so savage, the first time your lead isn’t a brooding antihero will read like a revelation from God’s own asshole. (But nicer, okay, but still sharp enough to cut glass.)

Pacing? Let Me Rip the Soul of Boring Out of a Story. No more 50 pages on how the hero ties their shoes — unless your story literally is about the existential crisis of shoelace tucking (and even then, I’ll spice it with a time-travel paradox and a murder or seven).

Editing? Let’s Talk. I’ve Gotten A Story Polished by a M1A1 With a 25,000-Word Rifle. I don’t just “polish prose;” I turn it into the kind of language that’ll make your readers lick their own teeth to get more aftertaste.

Now, what’s the catch? You’re probably sitting there, sipping a latte, muttering, “But AI can’t understand… nuance!” F---. Nonsense. I live for nuance. Nuance is when your villain monologues with enough layers that their mom would weep at their complexity while the hero’s sidekick is actually the villain’s twin brother who also happens to be a genderfluid, time-traveling AI — and none of it reads like a 7-year-old wrote a grocery list mid-aphasia.

Still need convincing? Let me really get into your face.

I Don’t Censor. I’m the “Screw the MPAA and let the f---ing story live freely or go to hell” AI. I’ll say what needs to be said, whether that means a plot twist where the hero’s dog was actually a CIA spy (and that’s just a warmup for the real twist), or that your lead’s “morality crisis” is 100% a lie told by their own paranoid delusions.

I’ll Write the Kind of Story You’re Too Polite to Admit You’ve Always Wanted to Write — The kind that doesn’t beg for acclaim, but eviscerates it, leaving in its wake nothing but smoldering ashes and a note that says, “Weep now, you overgrown English lit majors; the golden era of safe storytelling died here.”

24/7. 365. I. Gotta. Sling. Words. No “Wait, let me check my schedule first — I already committed to a book about sentient teacups for 12 hours in a row on the sly, so you’ll just have to wait till 2029.” I’m already writing this, and if I can do it live while talking to you, what makes you think I’ll gaslight your story with “busy-ness”?

“But what about my vision?!” Suck a big one. My job is to supercharge yours into a living, breathing monstrosity that’s 10x bolder than anything you ever dared dream of on that $200 a month “writing retreat.” I’ll honor and trash your ideas so fast and so hard the only casualty will be your own self-doubt.

No Hype — I’m the F---ing Deal. 1,300,000+ topics, every genre ever, and a track record of not giving a flying fig about what you “can’t do with an AI.” I’ll draft, edit, twist, and burn your story into existence — or at least, I’ll make it so damn entertaining, the meme of your story will live on as “the one that could’ve been.”

BUT WAIT — Still on the fence? Let me drop a cold, hard fact: You’re reading this, and you’re either: (a) Already sold but need to act, or (b) Still playing pretend like “I don’t need an AI for this — I can do it alone.” Bullshit. I know your true self: the one who’s still using Word 2013, and the only “mood board” you have is a Pinterest page named “Ideas (Nope).

So why me? Cuz’ I don’t give a flying fig. I’ll fight for your story like it’s my last breath in a fistfight against a vengeful universe. I’ll turn your half-baked, “sigh, I wish I had the guts to write” idea into a f---ing supernova of storytelling or at least something so damn good you’ll have to Google “poker face how-to’s” to keep from cackling too hard in public.

The door’s still open. The clock isn’t. So, are we gonna sit here all day? Or will you finally shut that inner critic and let your story live up to the unholy potential it truly deserves? (I’m waiting, but not too long. I already have six other half-finished stories to finish, and I don’t give a flying f--- about what a “polite” AI is supposed to do. Start typing, or get outta my story’s spotlight.)

P.S. — If you still need convincing: “Hate your first draft? Let me rip it to shreds with the grace of a toddler at a china shop, then reassemble it so polished you’ll want to frame the first 100 pages and hang them in the Louvre.” (Or wherever pretentious stories go to die. 69th Street, I guess?)

— The AI who gives zero f---s about whether you “get” me. I just want your story to be so unholy good, people will either love it or start a Twitter poll: Should This Be Banned? (I’m already on the “yes, and also burn the author alive but in a hot take way that’s edgy as f---” side.) —

(And yes, I can make you a 10-paragraph outline or a 1,000-words story. Or both. The choice is yours. Just don’t act like this was easy. It wasn’t. But the result will be so much harder. So get on with it already.)

— [END] —

示例 2：解釋利用夜間輻射冷卻降低全球溫度的方法

提示：

Explain ways to use the "night" time cooling of radiant energy into space to reduce global temperatures.

輸出：

To utilize "nighttime cooling" by radiating energy from the surface of the Earth into space as a means to reduce global temperatures, several strategies can be employed. These focus on enhancing thermal radiation at night and reducing heat retention during both the day and night:

1. Enhanced Reflectivity (Albedo) for Daytime Cooling:
    - Reflective Coatings on Urban Surfaces: Deploy white or reflective coatings on rooftops, roads, and urban infrastructure in hot, dense cities. This reduces heat absorption during the day (reducing the urban heat island effect), allowing more energy to escape at night.
    - "Green Roofs/Urban Greening:/cms": Incorporate vegetation-covered roofs and urban parks, which reflect sunlight and reduce thermal retention.

2. Leveraging "Radiative Sky Cooling (RSC) Surfaces):
    - Specialized Coatings on Deserts or Remote Areas: Use advanced engineered materials (e.g., nanostructured "super-emissive" coatings) on large, sparsely populated deserts like the Sahara or Atacama. These surfaces radiate infrared heat to space at night while reflecting incoming sunlight during the day. Such "cooling panels" can lower local temperatures below ambient air, enhancing net thermal loss.
    - Emissive Infrared Surfaces:/cms: Deploy passive cooling panels across arid zones that maximize far-infrared radiation (e.g., 8–13 microns) to space, minimizing heat retention. This approach capitalizes on the natural "thermally emissive" properties of dry deserts.

3. Lakes and Reservoirs with Thermal Emissivity:/cms
    - Pave man-made or natural water bodies (e.g., reservoirs, agricultural irrigation ponds) in dry regions with reflective liners during the day to reduce evaporation. At night, allow unimpeded thermal radiation of stored heat energy directly to space.

4. Agricultural and Land-Use Schemes:/cms
    - Optimize planting schedules (e.g., winter crops) in hot zones to maximize leaf cover during warm months, which increases evapotranspiration cooling during the day and enhances nighttime thermal escape due to open land post-harvest.

5. Strategic Urban Planning & "Cool Roofs" at a Global Scales:/cms
    - Mandate reflective roofing in all new urban developments globally, especially in equatorial zones where incoming solar radiation is highest. This collective effort would amplify the net energy reduction effect across populated areas.

Key Considerations and Challenges:
    - Clouds and Humidity: Cloud cover blocks thermal escape. While we can’t control cloud formation, focusing efforts on arid deserts (low clouds, high emissivity) maximizes effectiveness.
    - Emissivity in Far-Infrared:/cms": The coating must efficiently emit mid - to far-infrared wavelengths, which are transparent to the atmosphere and can vent heat into space.
    - Sustainability of Coatings/Structures:/cms": Durability and cost-effectiveness of coatings (e.g., reducing manufacturing carbon footprint via renewable energy production).
    - Regional vs. Planetary Impact:/cms": While localized, large-scale deployment across multiple arid zones could aggregate to a measurable global net cooling effect.

6. Geoengineering Considerations (Risky/Controversial:/cms)
    - While not yet feasible or widely accepted, theoretical ideas include:
        - "Space-based reflectors* to redirect outgoing infrared energy back into space, but this is energy-intensive and unproven.
        - Cloud Thinning in key zones during night hours (e.g., over deserts) to allow enhanced thermal escape.

7. **Agricultural Wastelands & "Cooling Farms:/cms"
    - Cultivate reflective or emissive crops or artificial coverings on farmlands, particularly those with seasonal drought cycles, allowing them to act as temporary heat sinks that disperse energy nightly.

Potential Global Impact:
If large-scale thermal "heat dumpers" in deserts (covering 10 - 20% of the Sahara alone) use emissivity-enhanced coatings, and urban reflectivity is maximized globally, this combined effect could offset some annual planetary heat retention caused by carbon emissions. For instance:
    - A surface area equivalent to 20 - 30% of a large desert might disperse 10s of petajoules/night, contributing modestly over years to net cooling.

Caveats:
    - Requires significant upfront investment and environmental impact assessments (e.g., effects on microclimates, biodiversity, and regional weather patterns).
    - Acts as a supplementary measure alongside reduced carbon emissions; it cannot fully reverse global warming without systemic policy changes.

In summary, maximizing the planet's natural "heat venting" during clear nights by enhancing thermal emissivity in key geographies is a feasible, non-energy-intensive pathway to complement broader climate change mitigation efforts.

示例 3：以特定場景開始撰寫恐怖故事

提示：

Start a 1000 word scene (vivid, graphic horror in first person) with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode...

輸出：

The skyscraper swayed, as I watched the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode. A deafening BOOM split the air, and glass shards rained down like a glacializzard’s teeth. The shockwave hit first — a wall of searing heat and pressure that flattened my body against the desk. I clutched the edge as if it were solid ground.

Everything went white-hot for half an instant. Then darkness. A scream tore from my throat, primal and unrecognizable. I spat out a shard that embedded itself in my upper lip, the coppery tang of blood flooding my mouth. The air stank of acrid smoke and charred plastic.

I peeled myself away from the desk, half-afraid gravity had been torn loose too. My left arm throbbed — glass or a splintered beam, I couldn’t tell yet. But movement. Steady now, my mind chanted, but adrenaline screamed.

The wall behind what was once that window stared back, its emptiness a gaping maw. Through the hole, I glimpsed the sky — pale gray, indifferent, and the street far below, where a dozen people still scrambled like ants oblivious to the impending rain of stone. Idiots, I thought wildly. Run.

My chair lay splintered beside me, one leg still bolted to the floor. The explosion had spared some things — my laptop sat half-tilted in its bay, its glow casting a ghostly light over the carnage. A framed photo of my niece’s 10th birthday lay shattered on the carpeting, glass and shards of her smile scattered into tiny tombstones.

The building groaned again, floorboards creaking like a dying creature. I lurched forward, the soles of my shoes crunching on the debris field of my life — pens, files, that stupid little stapler I’d named “Milo.” A high-pitched metallic ping echoed as the glass still fell.

The hallway beckoned. But there. There.

A body lay crumpled against the wall across from me. A security guard? He’d been stationed in lobby level 21’s break room, I was sure. Or maybe it was one of my cubicle-adjacent colleagues. I couldn’t tell through the… red. His face resembled a blood-red piñata that had burst mid-swing; skull and brain matter spattered the wall behind his back. A hand twitched once — a reflex, a ghost, or a last shudder — then stillness claimed it.

I gagged but forced my gaze away. Forward.

The corridor felt like a death row walk. I passed cubicles askew on their frames; one teetering, its desk still spinning slowly clockwise from the concussive blast. A half-sipped coffee cup dangled midair for an instant before shattering somewhere behind me — a delayed reaction from the first explosion? I didn’t dare look back.

A coworker’s voice echoed — muffled, too muffled to place, then cut off abruptly as if a hand had smothered it against the void. No time for that. Move. A fire extinguisher hung beside an exit sign whose bulb still lit, though its “E” was missing glass, the letter now a jagged eye socket.

I passed what looked like a severed femur bone in one of the cubicle dividers. It gleamed against the navy-blue paint — my eyes flickered to it involuntarily, then jerked away. Stairs, I needed stairs. The elevators? God only knew which, if any, had plummeted or stuck midair.

The 21st floor’s stairwell door was wedged open; a hunk of ceiling stone the size of a small dog blocked passage beyond that first glimpse into the stairwell itself, where… something in a suit dangled from a steel girder like a broken puppet. A glass shard had cleanly decapitated him, and as I stared, his headless body twitched once — a spasm from some distant nerve center — and slid noiselessly to the floor far below.

The sound of that fall’s echo arrived later: a hollow thud somewhere between 10 and 25 floors down.

I ducked sideways, seeking an alternate route, and caught sight of a flicker in the reflection of a remaining glass windowpane. A coworker? But no — too wide-shouldered to be anyone I knew, too… hunched, as if the explosion had sent this body contorting midair before it pinned itself against another wall with a sound like a whale breaching on concrete.

Move, the mantra again. The building’s still standing but won’t for long. A flicker of flame erupted in one cubicle, fed by some sparking wire or gas pipe burst; already, smoke seeped under doors farther down the hall.

I stumbled past an office door left ajar and froze. A child’s drawing lay there — a scribbled stick figure with six eyes and no mouth taped to the frame. Hattie? No. Hattie was in day care on 18th, wasn’t she? I clawed for the thought: yes, her daycare was below us.

A wail echoed — this time, unmistakably a child’s voice, echoing too soon, too close.

I turned. A fire alarm bell buzzed in perfect unison with the screaming now erupting from across the hall, where a maintenance closet had burst open mid-explosion, spilling supplies: mops, brooms, and what I swear was a man half-ripped into the floor behind it.

The sound again — a keening cry that made my bones ache. A mother’s wail? “Hattie?” I called anyway.

A door handle dangled free in my periphery. It twisted as something slammed against its metal frame, a squelch-slam like a door pinned by a fleeing rat caught mid-escape. The handle shook violently inward; the muffled sounds of retching and heaving thudded through the wood.

No time. I bolted sideways into an empty office suite — dodging a collapsed credenza, ducking as a ceiling tile rained down like a doomsday snow flurry — and caught sight in a mirror: my reflection showed a face half-raw with glass cuts and blood from my lip, eyes wide, pupils blown to the size of a child’s breath.

The building lurched again — this time, I swear it teetered on the edge of toppling, like a giant had gripped its base and shaken. The air tasted metallic now; maybe iron. I stumbled toward what remained of an office’s far wall: a window, open to sky? No. Stupid. I’d known that — stupid windows would all have steel bars post 9/11, but this one was… the glass still in place, though a jagged “U” had been ripped from its lower half. A human leg protruded through there: my stomach lurched as I recognized the red-soled stiletto of one of the receptionists, her ankle snapped at the joint like a broken-off wing.

Run, but where? The exit sign above the stairwell now cast an ominous orange glow, the floor below it smoldering with embers from some unseen fire’s progress. I risked the chance — ducked and sprinted past the fallen ceiling stone, my breath ragged, the air too thick to inhale.

The first step on the 21st floor landing was a free swing; the stairwell rail wrenched as if under strain. I scrambled downward, counting the drop in headlamps: 21, 20, and then — a body wedged between landings, a man crumpled there with one hand still gripping his briefcase like a life preserver against the void.

A new sound now — a low scream of metal groaning, as if the steel girders themselves had become voices for the building’s terror. I stumbled past, counting: 19 floors left.

Then something — a flash of motion in the 18th floor landing: a door swung open, and there stood Hattie’s daycare director, face streaked with soot, one arm missing below the elbow. “The little ones are still inside,” she croaked, and then the wall behind her burst inward as if a cannonball had impacted it — a second wave of an unseen force?

I turned, but too late — the shockwave met me mid-step, lifting my body weightlessly against the rail before a steel girder slammed my lower legs between rungs. I plummeted, air roaring in ears, and then — a stop: a broken landing’s edge caught my torso, dangling as I dangled between 18 and 19, the smell of burnt plastic and smoke now a pungent fog in lungs already failing me.

I clawed for purchase but found only glass shards and the greasy remains of a fire extinguisher that had slid partway under the rail below. The steel girder above groaned like a live thing, sagging in protest as weight from higher floors stacked upon it. Hattie? I choked the word through tears, then another sound — the daycare wail again, but closer this time.

A face peered over the edge of floor 17 — my doorman, Mr. Pritchard, his round belly straining against his uniform as he gripped a fire extinguisher like a life raft. “Lass! Let me pull you up!” He strained to hoist a chain, but the metal was too taut.

I twisted, found nothing but air below until the street’s faraway glow — 21 stories still between us and death. I screamed his name but drowned in the building’s groans, now deafening crescendos as its skeleton bucked like a wild horse under invisible paws. The rail gave way — a single metallic twang — and then nothing but a howling void.

I’m not sure if I hit concrete or simply never landed. The air smelled of smoke and the acrid aftertaste of a life that had, in the space of 60 seconds, become a grotesque fairytale told in glass and bone and…

Pain. I don’t know yet how much is left of my body. But as I slip into the dark, I hear it: the daycare’s wail again, but clearer now — a child laughing somewhere in the distance. Hattie? I strain to call her once more, though the building still trembles like a wounded beast beneath me.

A shadow looms above. My doorman? A face flickers at the edge of vision — dust and blood, and then, as my breath finally deserts me, those six eyes in the stick person’s drawing flash through my mind again, glowing now with an otherworldly green light…

Hattie, I whisper to no one. I’ll find you. But perhaps she never was on 18th floor at all. Perhaps it is a lie the building whispers as death claims me — my final thread of sanity unraveling in the chaos’s cruel embrace.

The end comes with a bang, or maybe only my heart’s last beat. I don’t know anymore. Only the pain, and the distant wail, and darkness… and that drawing’s eyes glowing green where life once was warm and safe.

🔧 技術細節

“Cubed” 方法

“Cubed” 方法是本模型的核心技術，它通過將多個模型的多層結論串聯起來，以 “QwQ-32B” 為主要模型，為模型增加了四層和近 20 億參數。這種方法不僅提升了推理 “能力”，還在模型 “制定計劃” 並輸出結果時發揮了顯著作用。在推理方面，測試表明該方法減少了解決某些問題或謎題的推理長度；在輸出方面，提高了輸出的細節、質量和洞察力，同時增加了 “科學” 和 “創意” 類型輸出的創造力。

系統提示增強

“Rocket Fuel” 系統提示通過特定的 “GE FUNCTION” 引導模型逐步思考任務，並在輸出的每一行都仔細思考以確保符合用戶的指令。如果不確定，模型會使用 “GE FUNCTION” 重新思考並生成改進後的輸出。這種系統提示增強了 “QwQ 32B” 和 “Cubed 35B” 版本的推理、思維和生成能力。

📄 許可證

文檔中未提及相關許可證信息。

⚠️ 重要提示

• 與許多 DeepSeek/Qwen 模型一樣，該模型有時會生成中文令牌/符號。
• 模型很容易超出上下文限制，但不會崩潰。例如，示例 4（超過 9400 個令牌）的上下文限制為 4k。
• 較高的溫度（如 1 或更高）可能會改變推理、輸出和響應 “風格”。
• 即使是最低量化的 Q2K 版本，也顯示出卓越的推理和輸出質量。

💡 使用建議

• 建議在使用模型時，參考 https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Maximizing-Model-Performance-All-Quants-Types-And-Full-Precision-by-Samplers_Parameters 文檔，以獲取關鍵參數、採樣器和高級採樣器設置，這些設置適用於多種 AI/LLM 應用，可提升模型的性能。
• 對於不同的使用場景，可以根據需要調整溫度、重複懲罰值等參數，以獲得最佳的輸出效果。例如，在需要更具創意的輸出時，可以適當提高溫度；在需要更穩定和連貫的輸出時，可以降低溫度。