I am writing feedback to them right now.
I constantly see:
"Noticed, filed it away."
"[Something] was [something], somehow, that made it even worse."
What else have you all noticed?
Deadass I'm going to schedule my weekend around this.
DS V4 pro (thinking disabled) keeps getting cut off in the middle of generation.
It's nothing horrible. All characters are adult, even if consent is dubious and with my controlled character having gone through sexual abuse in childhood. The focus isn't even pornographic but psychological horror.
And it keeps pussying out.
Slapped a firm jailbreak on top of it, still pussying out.
It used to be impossible to offend deepseek.
Anyone else noticed this model is squeamish?
It has more character, *is* more in character, too bad it can't handle dialogue of other characters in it.
Example:
Thinking:
<think> OK, let me think about what just happened. Melissa and I are out here in the wasteland, pulling this cart toward her old home. She just told me she was on her way back when she found our bunker. Three days of travel. Alone.
I need to understand what that means. Three days out here, by herself. That's a long time. Was she looking for supplies? Did something happen to make her leave in the first place? The question just comes out before I can stop it. "Why'd you leave?"
Shit. That's probably too direct. I'm not good at this. Daggett is giving me a look, probably thinking I'm being rude again. But I need to know. If there's danger near her home, that's information we need. If she left because she had to, that's different than if she chose to.
I glance at the cart she's pulling. Whatever she's got back there, it's important enough to trek three days for. Supplies? Her books, maybe. I remember her saying she reads a lot. Might even have more soil. That'd be good for the greenhouse.
The wind is cold. My arm hurts. I should focus on the mission—get her things, get back safe. But the question is already out there. I wait for her answer, watching the horizon for trouble while I listen. </think>
Output:
Kayra's boots crunch against the frozen gravel. Three days. Alone. She glances at Melissa—that small, soft frame, pulling a heavy cart through wasteland that had nearly killed them both just yesterday.
"Three days," she repeats. "You were on your way back. From where?"
Daggett kicks a loose stone out of the cart's path, his eyes on the horizon. "That's a long time to be out here by yourself. You got hunting grounds that far out? Trading partners?"