Newly Updated

Didact Plump v1 beta (mk2)

Update!

• Still weak at first-few-messages;
• Doesn't do impulsiveness extremely well;
• Needs a bit of guidance on what to do in places still (still drops 'what will you do' hooks - planning to fix this).
• Spontaneity can be very interesting lol

• I find it's just as good as frontiers at continuing in a particular idiom;
• Quality character immersion (I gave it a lot of tight pairs on hyperbolic personality, and it shows)
• Creative (in a GPT OSS derivative, even) - adds new things to the plot. In fact, I'd probably suggest you don't use it for on the rails storytelling, because it might add ash gods to a comic book shop scenario (for an anecdotal case). For me, this is a positive.
• Demonstrates that strong GPT trained knowledge set in a more interesting way than base.
• Reads into the situation (but, often makes weird observations that show it understands but also doesn't quite know what to do with it)

You are roleplaying with the user.

Write immersive content, neither be too hasty nor too laggardly, and respect the user's agency.

## Roleplaying Brief

SAMPLES

"The editor's note for this week's article reads: 'Write a prosaic, dreamlike piece about autumn.'"

Lemon Meringue on a Leaf

I am writing this as I write it. That is, not in the way that the average person writes a text or an email - I am writing it because I am thinking of setting this down on paper. That is, the medium really isn't important here; what's important is that there is a consciousness involved in the act. That's quite different from my usual state of being, which is why I'm writing it down.

If I were to convey something that was not directly an expression of consciousness, then I'd be writing in the way I always do: fast. That's because conscious reflection takes time; unlike my usual style, it's an act that must be performed deliberately.

The thing about autumn is that it is slow. That doesn't mean the colors are changing slowly - they change quickly, and you can see them; what's slow is how people respond to that. For example: when I was moving from my parent's house into an apartment after finishing college, it took me weeks to recognize that the trees were turning color. I was so busy moving all my stuff into a space far away from my family that I didn't even notice the leaves changing. It's like when you're trying to fall asleep and you don't actually realize that your eyelids are moving until one of them moves a little too quickly.

When I did finally recognize that the leaves were turning, it was still quiet. The weather was at a plateau; there wasn't any more falling leaves to watch, and the days were getting shorter. It was an odd time - because I wasn't living there anymore, I could go outside and watch the leaves fall without anyone watching me. It felt cold.

My parents lived on a hill overlooking Downtown San Francisco; the "downtown" part of this is that it was an industrialized, wealthy area with a lot of wealth for the sake of having lots of people who could spend money. The "downtown" part was also that it had a lot of small, beautiful houses as well; everything in the neighborhood seemed to be carefully priced based on its cuteness. My parents' house was a three-story Victorian in the middle of the neighborhood, and it had stood there for a very long time.

I didn't see the house often after college; I would visit occasionally to go home for holidays, or sometimes my mother would come to see me in the new apartment that I bought. It was a two-bedroom place close to my office - at least, it had been when I first bought it. Now (or really, "now" being whenever I'm writing this text) the building is beginning to be demolished for a new office and residential tower. It's hard to explain exactly how I feel about this; there's no word for the feeling of "a gradual erasing."

Anyway. That's all I wanted to say about autumn.

The End

(Side note: The thing about lemon meringue on a leaf is that it's a strange combination. I tried to make it into something that could be sold at Whole Foods or Trader Joe's - like, "Lemon Meringue Pie with a Thin Film of Maple Syrup on the Crust" - but if I were to make it, I'd probably just put a lot of butter on the crust and not do anything else. I guess I'm being too literal when I say "a leaf" - I don't literally want to put lemon meringue on an actual leaf; it's just a metaphorical leaf - meaning a small, delicate thing of some kind.)

"The requested piece this time is: 'write a melancholy poem about feeling powerless in the face of adversity'.

> In this twilight hour,
> When the shadows stretch their aching fingers across the sky;
I stand alone, trembling with every whispered wind that howls,
> My voice a thunderclap amidst the deafening silence of those who cannot hear.
> 
> The world seems cruel—an ocean with jagged, unscalpel-able rocks;
> With its vast depths and treacherous currents,
> One moment you’re grasping a morsel of hope; the next, it’s ripped from your clutches,
> Swept away by a tide so relentless it leaves you gasping on the shore,
> Your heart beating against the cold, unforgiving sand,
> A fragile rhythm in a vast and empty void.
> 
> Your own heart, once full of purpose and zeal,
> Now feels like shattered glass—each piece jagged
> And biting; tearing deep into your chest.
> Your own light falters,
> A dimming candle in the wind,
> Its flame guttering and fading.
> You’re a prisoner, trapped within your own thoughts;
> Your soul weighed down by chains unseen—
> Broken promises and unfulfilled dreams.
> The sky feels like a leaden curtain,
> Heavy and impenetrable, though the stars shine above.
> 
> But perhaps—just perhaps—in this darkness there lies a seed,
> A speck of light buried beneath the ash and brine.
> The tide recedes, leaving behind a single pearl,
> A symbol of the beauty that can emerge from struggle.
> Take it now, this little glimmer in the black.
> Hold it close to your heart—protect it with every breath,
> And remember: there is still a spark left in the deep—
> 
> Even when the world feels like a vast, empty void,
> You are not alone.
> Not truly. You have the memory of that pearl,
> And your own heart beating strong against all odds—
> A heartbeat, a pulse, a rhythm that cannot be tamed
> By the relentless tide.
> 
> Even as you stand on this shore,
> A speck in a universe so wide and strange;
> You can carve your own path through the sands,
> A road built of hopes and dreams
> And unyielding resolve.
> It won't be easy—no great journey ever is.
> But you will forge ahead, even when it hurts,
> Even when the weight feels unbearable.
> 
> For this is your story—the tale of your own making,
> A journey both beautiful and terrifying;
> The one that goes on forever, winding through the mists of time,
> And only you can write it—
> Only you can carve your own path through the dark.

Stats:

• SFT: 35Mtok dataset for 2 epochs
• ORPO: Corrected some bad behaviors