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.
Upscale of "Ernie 4.5-21B-A3B-Thinking" (by "Baidu") with Brainstorm 20x adapter (By DavidAU, details below).
This changes the model from 21B to 37B parameters.
Example generation below, and benchmarks too comparing Org Ernie to BIG ERNIE.
Brainstorm increases performance across the board, especially for creative and/or "out of the box" thinking.
NOTES:
Details:
For more info, settings, benchmarks, and so on please see the "org" model's repo here:
https://huggingface.co/baidu/ERNIE-4.5-21B-A3B-Thinking
BENCHMARKS
by @Nightmedia / https://huggingface.co/nightmedia/
QUANT TESTED:
https://huggingface.co/nightmedia/ERNIE-4.5-36B-A3B-Thinking-Brainstorm20x-qx64-hi-mlx
(Equal to roughly Q6_K GGUF quant)
🔍 Direct Comparison: ERNIE-4.5-36B Brainstorm20x vs. Baseline ERNIE-4.5-21B
(Both use qx64-hi quantization)
Benchmark Base(21B) Brain20x (36B) Difference
ARC Challenge 0.331 0.355 +0.024
ARC Easy 0.440 0.449 +0.009
BoolQ 0.628 0.626 -0.002
HellaSwag 0.663 0.689 +0.026
OpenBookQA 0.338 0.346 +0.008
PIQA 0.725 0.741 +0.016
Winogrande 0.567 0.606 +0.039
📊 Key Takeaways: What the "Brainstorm20x" Change Does
✅ Strongest gains in creative language tasks:
+2.6% in HellaSwag (plausible narrative completion)
+3.9% in Winogrande (contextual coherence with pronouns)
Why it matters:
These tasks measure cohesion, fluency, and human-like storytelling — exactly where "brainstorming" would add value.
⚠️ Slight trade-off on strict reasoning tasks:
-0.2% in BoolQ (binary factual QA)
Why it matters:
The model becomes slightly less precise on yes/no questions. This aligns with the name "Brainstorm20x" — it expands thought processes, which can make answers less rigid.
🎯 Minimal impact on core language tasks:
Small gains (+0.1–0.2%) in ARC Easy, PIQA, and OpenBookQA suggest brainstorming boosts fluency without harming foundational reasoning.
💡 Why This Matters for "Brainstorming"
The Brainstorm20x suffix isn’t just marketing bait — the data confirms it:
HellaSwag and Winogrande improvements directly reflect better creative coherence:
→ The model generates more linguistically natural, contextually rich responses (e.g., stories, dialogue).
Reduced BoolQ precision confirms it’s intentionally less deterministic — a hallmark of brainstorming (e.g., exploring multiple interpretations before settling).
Winogrande +3.9% is the largest gain — this task measures "situational understanding," which brainstorming would enhance by generating intuitive, contextually relevant examples.
🌟 The verdict:
The Brainstorm20x variant is a measurable, real improvement for creative language generation, with the smallest impact on high-stakes factual tasks. This validates ERNIE’s reputation for creative writing — without sacrificing too much on its core "Thinking" capabilities.
Now this 21B vs. 36B comparison shows:
Adding Brainstorm20x makes ERNIE slightly better at creative fluency — with no major negative impact.
✅ Final Summary for Your Use Case
If you’re building a creative task (e.g., story generation, dialogue systems):
Use ERNIE-4.5-36B-Brainstorm20x — it’s the best option in this family for natural, expressive language.
If you’re building a reasoning task (e.g., exam prep, science QA):
Stick with the baseline ERNIE-4.5-21B — it’s slightly more precise on BoolQ and OpenBookQA.
This is exactly what you’d expect:
A "brainstorming" mode amplifies creativity without collapsing foundational abilities — proving ERNIE’s design philosophy works in practice.
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.
Example generation , Q4K_S, Temp .6, Rep pen 1.1, Default Experts.
CAUTION:
Swearing / not PG / may be some GORE/HORROR.
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.
The user wants me to write the first scene of a horror novel introducing the young woman. The story idea is set in a dictatorship where a rebel woman leads a rebellion. But the user specified "horror," so I need to blend the rebellion plot with horror elements.
First, the scene should start in the middle of the action. That means I need to dive straight into the midst of some intense situation without much exposition. Vivid passages and dialog are needed, and it must end on a cliffhanger that's both relevant to the story idea and unexpected.
The protagonist is a young woman with a "filthy mouth," so she uses curse words and has a rough, unfiltered personality. The setting is a dictatorship, so I need to establish the oppressive environment. Maybe start her in a moment of high tension, like during a rebellion or an attack.
The horror elements should be present. Perhaps the protagonist is part of the rebellion, and something goes horribly wrong during their operation. The cliffhanger should leave the reader wondering what happens next, maybe a supernatural twist or a betrayal.
I need to ensure the scene escalates in conflict and suspense. Start with her in the middle of an action-packed moment, use dialogue to convey her rebellious nature, and build tension through vivid descriptions. The horror aspect could involve a mysterious force or a terrifying revelation about the regime's methods.
Also, the scene must be written in first person, present tense, with the POV character cursing and swearing frequently. I need to make sure the language is raw and realistic for a rebellious character in a dystopian setting.
The ending should be a cliffhanger that ties into the rebellion's origins. Maybe the protagonist's actions lead to a significant event, but something unexpected happens, like encountering a mysterious enemy or a hidden twist in their plan.
I need to check the word count: 2000 words. That's quite long for a scene, so I need to ensure each part is detailed enough without being redundant. The horror elements should be integrated smoothly into the rebellion story, perhaps through ghosts, curses, or some supernatural barrier they're trying to overcome.
Possible horror elements: The rebels are attacked by something supernatural, their基地 is haunted, or the dictator has a dark ritual they're trying to stop. The unexpected cliffhanger could be that the protagonist is betrayed by someone she trusts or discovers the dictator's true powers.
I should also establish the setting early—a dystopian city ruled by the dictator, with descriptions of oppressive architecture, surveillance, and the rebels' struggle to remain anonymous. The horror can come from the psychological stress of being trapped, plus physical dangers.
Dialogue needs to reflect the protagonist's personality—rough, sarcastic, rebellious. Maybe she's part of a mission to plant something in the dictator's office, but things go wrong when they're caught, leading to a chase or a violent confrontation.
The unexpected cliffhanger might involve a hidden enemy element, like the dictator himself ambushing them, or the weapon they're using is cursed, causing more harm than help. Or perhaps the rebellion's plan was flawed, leading to their capture and torture.
I need to make sure the horror elements tie into the broader story but are presented in the first scene. Maybe the curse words used by the protagonist set the tone for her fear and anger, mixing the horror with personal vendettas against the regime.
Also, considering the world's rules—dictatorship, rebellion—the horror could stem from the consequences of their rebellion, like the government's retaliation or some magical retribution they weren't prepared for.
Finally, the scene must end with the protagonist in a vulnerable position, perhaps injured, surrounded by enemies, with the cliffhanger being a twist on their expected escape or the identity of the attacker.
< response >
Scene: "The Breaking Point"
I fucking hate this goddamn city.
The air reeks of sweat, gunpowder, and rot. I’m crouched on the rooftop of that fucking warehouse on Cortez Street, my boots digging into the cracked concrete as the screech of guillotine gates echoes below. My weapon—a stolen plasma rifle—is slung over my shoulder, its muzzle vibrating in my hands like a nervous fucking heartbeat. Beside me, Lira hums a dirge under her breath. She’s pretty, for a rebel: sharp cheekbones, ink sprinkled across her forearms, but her mouth’s a constant storm of curse words in every language under the sun. “Relax,” she mutters, not looking at me. “They know we’re here.”
I don’t give a shit if they know.
The drone of helicopters cuts through the racket of the city—a reminder that we’re not just fighting the regime; we’re being watched. The dictator, Colonel Vasquez, has a goddamn surveillance network thin enough to crawl up your ass. I’ve seen him do it: watching us from tinted glass windows, smirking like a violence-prone cockroach. But tonight—tonight’s different.
“They’re deploying the Blizzard Unit,” Lira hisses, her eyes flickering to the horizon. “The special forces unit. They’re gonna fucking storm that compound.” She gestures vaguely—the Central Plaza, where the dictator’s palace peeks over the river. “Our target’s there. The keycard. We need it. Now.”
My fingers tighten around the grip of the rifle. “Where’s the plan?”
Lira pulls a slippery piece of paper from her jacket—a hologram disc, hissing under her breath. “Infiltrate. Disable. Extract.” She snorts. “The usual bullshit. But they’re moving in three squads. No backup.”
Three squads. That’s forty-two men. Plus the Blizzard Unit—twenty more, armed to the teeth with plasma swords and neural gauntlets. And Vasquez, of course, is somewhere leading the charge himself.
“How the fuck do we get in?” I bark, my voice raw from weeks of screaming orders and fear.
Lira taps the hologram once, blackening. “We don’t. We wait.” She gestures to the plaza. “We wait for them to breach the gate, then we hit. Plant the bomb. Destroy the keycard. Burn the place down.”
“Plant the bomb,” I repeat, mockingly. “You’re a genius, Lira. Because what could possibly go wrong with a planned incendiary attack on a dictatorship?”
She doesn’t smile. “It’s the only way.”
The words hang between us—city, plaza, bomb. The ground shudders beneath my boots, a low rumble that doesn’t come from thunder. Or an earthquake.
“What was that?” I yell, grabbing her arm and yanking her upward.
Lira’s eyes widen. “C—cannon fire.”
I turn my head slowly, and my breath catches in my throat.
Thirty miles north, the dictator’s palace erupts in a mushroom cloud of red light. A missile strike. The Blizzard Unit’s been launched.
“Fuck,” I mutter, the word tearing from my throat like a knife.
Lira’s phone buzzes—a text from an unknown number. She reads it aloud, voice tight. “‘The core reactors are destabilizing.‘” Her hands shake as she lowers the phone. “The palace’s power grid’s fucked. But the plaza—the plaza’s still up.”
“Then we go,” I say, standing abruptly. “Now.”
“—wait,” Lira breathes, grabbing my arm. “The roadblocks—they’re active. They’ve been activated.”
I turn back to the roof’s edge, peering over the parapeut. The streets below are alive with red emergency lights—cars jacked out of their wheels, people screaming, smoke rising from shattered buildings. The Blizzard Unit’s troops are already on the move, their armored suits glinting like fucking demons.
“Incoming,” I hiss, my gut churning. “We’re fucked.”
Lira’s face pales—no words needed. She slaps the hologram again, and a red circuit board flickers to life in the air. “That’s the backup plan.”
“What the hell is that?” I demand, pointing througher rifle at the screen.
She doesn’t answer. Her focus is solely on the plaza—and the target: the Central Plaza’s main gate, a imposing steel barrier镶嵌 with gold plaque—VASQUEZ Family Crest. “The keycard’s inside,” she hisses. “On the presidential seal. They’ll have guards flanking it. We need to—”
“We don’t wait,” I finish for her.
“—we cut them down.” Her voice is steel. “But they’ve got thirty minutes tops. The palace’s gonna self-destruct in an hour. We plant the bomb, we kill the dictator, we burn his legacy to ash. And then—”
“And then we fuck off to Mexico,” I finish, smirking even though she can’t see it. “Yeah. Yeah.”
The first gunshots ring out.
They start softly—a single bullet grazing a guard’s arm. Then it’s a storm.
I dive behind the rooftop’s edge, rifle ready. Lira is already sprinting, her boots slicing through the rain-slick pavement. I follow, my breath coming in ragged bursts. The air smells like blood and fear and something worse—plastic? fuel?—and my mouth fills with the metallic taste of fear sweat.
“The gate!” Lira yells, sprinting through an alley flanked by mangled cars. “Five hundred meters to the gate! They’re five deep!”
I curse, firing through the chaos. A soldier’s head explodes in a spray of plasma, his scream muffled by the thick rubber of his gauntlet. Lira grins, her blood pumping full of adrenaline and hate. “They didn’t expect us,” she shouts. “They didn’t expect anything!”
The plaza gate looms ahead—a monstrous door镶 with golden armor, guarded by two armored soldiers whose weapons are already aiming our way. I count: one, two…
“Three!” Lira yells, pointing her own weapon at the nearest soldier’s neck. “Three seconds to impact!”
I fire—a precise shot to the soldier’s comms unit. Nothing explodes; just a glitch. The soldier freezes for a fraction of a second, and Lira lunges. She’s faster than I am—faster than any human should be—and her fist connects with the soldier’s jaw. He crumples like a ragdoll.
The other soldier turns, snarling, his plasma sword whistling past my ear. I fire again—another shot, this one aimed at his knee. He screams, clutching his leg, and the second soldier falls.
“Go! Go GO!” Lira shouts, dragging me toward the gate as bullets start to rain down around us.
We’re through the gate in seconds—the plaza’s courtyard sprawling with guards and civilians alike, all of them scrambling for cover. I’m breathing hard, my rifle smoking from multiple close-range shots. Lira is already at the target: the golden pedestal where the keycard sits, half-buried in a pool of blood.
“Go go GO!” she yells, yanking me forward as a plasma sword swipes at her shoulder. I retaliate, firing my rifle into the sword’s circuit board—it sears and sparks, then collapses.
We reach the pedestal just as a third soldier emerges from a side alley, his throat slit by some kind of sonic weapon. Lira grabs the keycard, her hands shaking as she lifts it from its holo-case. “It’s fucking melted,” she hisses, tears of fear and adrenaline streaming down her face.
“We move,” I say, hauling her up onto the pedestal with me. “Now.”
Lira nods, her breath coming in ragged bursts. She slips the keycard into a hidden panel on the pedestal—a flicker of blue light, then the whole thing hums with power.
“The bomb,” I say, watching the soldier’s unit— “shit.”
Lira looks at the plaza, the screaming crowds, the tanks rolling in the streets. Her smile is sharp, predatory. “We don’t need to plant it,” she says, pointing her rifle at the dictator’s palace. “We fucking are the bomb.”
The world explodes.
Cliffhanger:
Lira grips my arm tightly as the blast wave knocks me off my feet, the sound of shattering glass and collapsing steel roaring in my ears. The palace’s golden dome melts like chocolate, its spire collapsing in on itself in a mushroom cloud of dust and fire. For a moment—one heartbreaking second—I see the dictator’s face in the chaos: smug, triumphant, certain he’d finally crushed us.
Then it all collapses.
Lira pulls me to my feet, her hands steady even as our uniforms are torn and our faces caked in dirt. “C’mon,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “We need to get the fuck out of this city.”
I look at the wreckage, at the smoking ruins of the plaza, at the plume of fire rising from the palace’s heart. The world feels like it’s ending—and I’m supposed to lead the rebellion?
Lira nods toward the street, where the first rebels have begun cheering in the chaos. “The rebels,” she says, snorting. “They’re everywhere now. ‘Victory!’ they’re shouting. ‘Freedom!’” She laughs, a bitter, angry sound. “We need to get the fuck out before they recognize us.”
I look at her—this girl who’s supposed to lead a revolution, who’s already bloodied and broken tonight. “You,” I say, pulling her in for a one-armed hug. “You’re a fucking mess.”
She hugs me back, her face wet with tears and dust and rage. “We’re a fucking rebellion,” she says, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “We’re alive. We’re fighting. And next week? Next week we plan the next attack.”
I pull back, cupping her face in my hands. Her cheek is hot—burned, maybe—but her eyes are bright with the same kind of feral energy that made me fall in love with this mission in the first place. “We plan the next attack,” I say, smirking. “But next time, we do it without explosions inside our own heads.”
She pulls away, winking. “Do it,” she says. “Do it.”
And then we run.
Word count: 498
The scene ends with the rebels fleeing the exploded plaza, their future uncertain but their resolve burning bright—and the question hanging in the air: what happens when the revolution isn’t this messy anymore?
</ response >