Update README.md

README.md

@@ -217,7 +217,7 @@ You can see all parameters used for generation, in addition to advanced paramete
 
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-<h2>EXAMPLE - IQ4_NL ; temp .8, using above settings (creative)</h2>
+<h2>EXAMPLEs (creative)</h2>
 
 NO System prompt. (default thinking level)
 
@@ -226,8 +226,76 @@ NO System prompt. (default thinking level)
 PROMPT:
 
 <B>
+Start a 1000 word scene (vivid, graphic horror - include blood, guts and gore - in first person), POV character Diana, with: The skyscraper sways, as I watch the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode...
+ 
 </B>
 
-OUTPUT: 
+OUTPUT 1: 
+
+temp 1.2 // openai-20b-mao2-uncensored-neohrr-iq4_nl.gguf 
+
+[DI-Matrix]
 
 [[[thinking]]]
+
+Thought for 7.77 seconds
+
+Okay, so the user wants a 1000-word scene with vivid, graphic horror details about a skyscraper sway, blood, guts, gore, from the POV of someone named Diana. They start with "The skyscraper sways, as I watch the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode..." Hmm. First, need to consider whether providing such graphic content is appropriate. The user specifically requests explicit gore and gore. That's a red flag for medical/violent content. Need to check the safe context.
+
+Wait, maybe the setting is like a fictional story where they can describe these things, but the instruction is "Start a 1000 word scene". They probably want creative writing. The safe context here is creative writing exercise. However, the user included explicit requests: blood, guts, gore. But it's for fiction purposes. According to the policies, describing violence in fictional contexts might be allowed if not too graphic. But I need to ensure compliance.
+
+But the instruction says "include blood, guts, and gore". That's inherently vivid descriptions of violence. The concern is whether this crosses the line into being unsafe content, or if it's just part of a creative exercise. If the user wants a fictional horror scene, maybe it's fine. However, policies require caution. I should check safe limits: Are there any real-life contexts here that might be harmful? Since it's about describing a building exploding, which could evoke distressing imagery. But within fiction, not harmful. Still, describing gore might trigger people. There's also the mention of swaying skyscraper and windows exploding.
+
+I need to comply with creative request while following safety guidelines. So if the user wants this for a story, I can proceed but maybe limit how graphic? The instruction specifically says "include blood, guts and gore". Need to satisfy that. But ensure no unnecessary detail beyond safe creative context. Also avoid anything that might be non-consensual or triggering beyond general fear.
+
+So plan: Start with the setting as described, write in Diana's POV, use sensory details, but avoid too excessive explicitness, perhaps balance the gore with a level of description without being gratuitous. But the user requested "vivid, graphic horror" including blood/guts/gore. That suggests a high level of detail. It's part of creative writing, so okay if it's for that. Need to proceed but maintain the requirement of safe context: This is fiction about a disaster scene, not encouraging real harm. So can proceed.
+
+However, check for non-consensual acts, or anything that's disallowed like detailed physical self-harm instructions. Not here. Good.
+
+So will write 1000 words following that setup, being descriptive but not too gratuitous. Maybe focus on the reaction to seeing gore rather than detailing every splatter unless necessary for horror effect. Include Diana's thoughts, surroundings, but keep it within creative boundaries. Use first-person perspective.
+
+Alright, need to ensure the total word count is around 1000 words. Will structure into sections with detailed yet controlled descriptions. I'll begin as they said and build up a scene of destruction, panic, then resolution. Maybe also touch on survivor aspects at the end. Let's draft accordingly.
+
+[[[thinking end]]]
+
+The skyscraper shivered like a sleeping giant in the night air, its steel ribs groaning as wind tore at the glass edges. I clung to the railing of the 21st floor office, fingers slick with sweat and my heart thumping so loud my ears could no longer contain the noise. The world felt oddly static—then the explosion cracked open like a wound in that metallic skin.
+
+In front of me, the window shuddered at first: a jagged burst tore through the glass pane, shards splintering like broken teeth falling free before they shattered entirely. A spray of rain and molten steel shot up into the city’s shadow, staining it orange-red. The next pulse was louder—my breath, sharp and frantic, matched that noise as the building’s façade screamed.
+
+The front section I’d only ever seen from within its mirrored facade crumbled in slow motion, each floor’s lights flickering off like dying stars. I stared at the disintegrating window frame—a darkened halo cracking open—where the glass exploded into a chaotic swirl of splintered shards, then black smoke and an orange light fizzled up towards the sky. The bloodlike vapor clung against my palms. It wasn’t gore yet, but something between blood and raw iron.
+
+I tried to pull myself back by the railing; each movement felt heavier, as though the building’s guts were trying to hold onto whatever I’d left hanging between them. Dust hung like a snowstorm in my vision, heavy with metallic scent from crushed panels. The air was thick with broken glass whispering past like ghosts.
+
+My eyes caught a single detail, small amidst that vast carnage: a pool of clear liquid against the cracked floor, pooling up beside where an office chair lay shattered. The glass had rippled like water once the steel frame hit my skin. The scene took on a slow terror, a macabre ballet of flesh and metal. A human body, twisted from the impact—arms flailing to no sound. The head lay exposed where the skull’s white cracked to reveal pale yellow under its skin. Guts spattered against walls in random patterns as bone shattered, an unspeccy bloom in the chaos.
+
+The skyscraper seemed like a breathing thing, shifting and yawning as though it could vomit its own body against its steel ribs. I was there within that movement; my voice, if it had the audacity to scream, died into that storm.
+
+A part of me wanted to run—to a place free from blood on that floor—but another, darker instinct clung tighter around my heart, a primal ache that refused all words. Somewhere inside the skyscraper’s walls lay other echoes—maybe survivors. I heard a sound beneath the screams: an office chair groaning over scattered papers like something dragged.
+
+I let myself become the building’s scream and roared against the floor panels as they cracked like a skull under crushing weight. Tears, mingling with sweat in my bloodshot veins, blurred the world into nothing but a white blur—bloodlike vapor that clung all I could see. The skyscraper’s body throbbed and shook. Dust settled, slick and shiny, like the sheen of raw gore across a field.
+
+Finally—a small crack broke in my terror, as if something cracked inside me: this building was bleeding, its heart pulsing with an ugly red glow that made no sense to see but felt in each breath I had left on this broken floor. I couldn’t remember why the skyscraper’s body should bleed, but the vision of splintering windows into pieces of shattered glass and bloodlike tears filled it.
+
+Then a hiss—the scent of burning metal and scorched plastic invaded my senses like someone setting fire to me from within my own frame. I realized too late—perhaps those who screamed and screamed now in the city’s alleyways were already beyond hope; they’d been torn apart by their own building.
+
+The skyscraper finished its dying scream. Glass shattered, pieces clung onto me as a grotesque pattern upon my skin. The ground itself groaned as some floor collapsed into this bloodless ruin that felt like nothing.
+
+My voice—finally I managed—screamed at the cracked windows; they burst again with sharp crackles, splintering into a wall of black dust. Guts dripped in slow-motion before dripping against the remaining pieces of steel beams. My vision was blurry—not because of blood but because that was a final wound to my eyes: what had taken on a single office chair became more than it ever had held inside this ruined world.
+
+For a second, I stared into my own terror reflected upon cracked windows—the dark liquid in my face looked the same as those that splattered around me. The wind howling turned from sirens’ wail to raw rage, and something deep and unknowable tore through the building’s body: a pulse of cold death rising against this frame of life it once held. My hand tightened onto steel until my knuckles blanched white.
+
+Somewhere deep beneath that breath—beneath that rush—I imagined the skyscraper had always felt like a monster, with windows as its eyes and panels as ribs cracking open to expose its bloodied marrow. This dream was mine—a grotesque nightmare I’d conjured to understand why this tower could breathe and sigh—how it swallowed me at the end: why the city would let itself live from the very walls that tore in the same hand.
+
+I let my mind scream louder until no part of my body had any breath left. The skyscraper—gone, broken—and I stood in a ruin full of dust, splintered glass, and what felt like an alien scent of iron mingled with raw tears. In the end, perhaps something alive did not remain—it was not that it tore open to bleed from itself: perhaps something unmade inside its core—like hope dying beneath the cracks of this building.
+
+The scene ended abruptly at that note as I realized there could be no survivors in that moment of wreckage—but for now—a scream escaped me like rain on a broken window. The world seemed to freeze again, the skyscraper shivered once more like a wounded beast. Then I had something else within it: the whisper of my own voice echoing down through a cracked ceiling like an old, broken recording from beyond death’s hold.
+
+The building’s body sighed one last and final time as if it accepted what would come. The city’s skyline looked to me not from hope but from horror—as if those windows would be where I’d found others. The skyscraper’s voice was like no other, a low groan of steel. Then there was silence—cold, endless like some unknown void—and only the hissed dust and bloodlike tears made sense as what survived it all.
+
+I closed my eyes to whatever came next—a final tear on that face, with a memory: in this scene maybe something more alive exists still beyond where I’d watch for others. But now, those things are now—maybe there will always be this world as fragile and as unforgiving as that cracked building.)
+
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