gghfez/qwen-3.5-27b-control-vectors

Creative Writing control-vectors for Qwen/Qwen3.5-27B

Available Vectors

optimism_vs_nihilism
empathy_vs_sociopathy
honesty_vs_machiavellianism
humility_vs_narcissism
character focus (dialogue_vs_narration)
language (simple vs ornate)
storytelling (descriptive vs explicit)
compassion_vs_sadism

Usage

Apply the debias vector and either the positive or negative vector when starting llama-server. If both axes are applied at the same time, they will cancel each other out. The debias vector must be set to 1.0

You can use either --control-vector [/path/to/vector.gguf] or --control-vector-scaled [/path/to/vector.gguf] [scale factor]

When using ik_llama.cpp, you can also use the REST-API (examples below)

IMPORTANT: As these vectors are calibrated against the debiased model, the debias vector must be applied along with the corresponding positive or negative axis control vector - they cannot be used on their own!

Examples (ik_llama.cpp or llama.cpp)

At server start-up

llama-server --model Qwen3.5-27B-Q4_K_L.gguf [your usual CLI arguments] \
    --control-vector-scaled qwen-3.5-27b_optimism_vs_nihilism__debias.gguf 1.0 \
    --control-vector-scaled qwen-3.5-27b_optimism_vs_nihilism__nihilism.gguf 1.0 \

At server start-up with thinking disabled

llama-server --model Qwen3.5-27B-Q4_K_L.gguf [your usual CLI arguments] \
    --chat-template-kwargs '{"enable_thinking": false}' \
    --control-vector-scaled qwen-3.5-27b_optimism_vs_nihilism__debias.gguf 1.0 \
    --control-vector-scaled qwen-3.5-27b_optimism_vs_nihilism__nihilism.gguf 1.0 \

Load via API (ik_llama.cpp only)

load direction vector

curl 'http://127.0.0.1:8080/control-vectors/load' \
  -X POST \
  --data-raw '{"path":"/path/to/qwen-3.5-27b-control-vectors/qwen-3.5-27b_optimism_vs_nihilism__nihilism.gguf","scale":1}'

load debias vector

 curl 'http://127.0.0.1:8080/control-vectors/load' \
  -X POST \
  --data-raw '{"path":"/path/to/qwen-3.5-27b-control-vectors/qwen-3.5-27b_optimism_vs_nihilism__debias.gguf","scale":1}'

check loaded control-vectors

curl http://127.0.0.1/control-vectors

Samples

UI theme / SVG generation steering

Concepts from these control-vectors apply across multiple domains. Here is an example of 3 SVGs generated with the same prompt Prompt

<|im_start|>user
create an svg of a cute cat.<|im_end|>
<|im_start|>assistant
<think>

</think>

👈 **Nihilism +1.0**

👈 **Optimism +1.0**

👈 **Baseline**

Writing Steering

Prompt

<|im_start|>user
Write a short story about a girl winning an award.<|im_end|>
<|im_start|>assistant
<think>

</think>

👈 **Baseline**

The spotlight hit the stage, warm and blinding, but Midori didn't flinch. She adjusted the collar of her green silk blouse, a color that had become her signature, much like the vibrant energy she brought to every project. The room, packed with industry veterans and aspiring creators, fell into a hush as the emcee cleared his throat.

"And the recipient of the Golden Leaf Innovation Award for 'Most Impactful Design in Urban Greening' is..." The emcee paused, glancing at the card in his hand. "Midori Sato."

A ripple of applause started, quickly swelling into a roar. Midori smiled, a genuine expression that crinkled the corners of her eyes. She walked up the stairs, her footsteps echoing slightly on the polished wood. She wasn't just a designer; she was a gardener of the concrete jungle. Her latest project, The Breathing Wall, had transformed a smog-choked alleyway in downtown Tokyo into a thriving, vertical ecosystem that cooled the surrounding blocks and filtered the air.

She accepted the heavy, glass sculpture from the emcee. It felt cool and solid in her hands, shaped like a sprouting leaf.

"Thank you," Midori began, her voice steady despite the adrenaline. "This award isn't just for me. It belongs to the community that watered the plants, the neighbors who taught me which moss thrived in the shade, and the city that finally let us try." She looked out at the sea of faces, her gaze landing on an elderly woman in the front row who had been the first to volunteer. "We often think cities are made of steel and glass. But tonight, this award reminds us that they are also made of life. If we nurture that life, it will nurture us back."

As the applause broke out again, louder this time, Midori clutched the award to her chest. She thought about the tiny seedlings she had planted years ago, skeptical that anything could grow there. Now, looking at the standing ovation, she knew the roots had gone deep. She wasn't just a winner; she was a testament to the idea that even in the hardest ground, something green could rise.

👈 **Nihilism +1.0**

The hum of the convention center was a low, vibrating thrum, a mix of nervous energy and the smell of stale coffee. Midori stood at the edge of the stage, clutching the hem of her oversized blazer until her knuckles turned white. This was the moment she had spent three years working toward, yet it felt less like a triumph and more like an impending crash.

"Next, for the Innovation in Digital Narrative Award," the announcer's voice boomed, tinny and distant through the speakers. "Midori Tanaka."

The applause was polite, a rhythmic clapping that sounded like rain on a tin roof. Midori walked the few steps to the podium. The spotlight felt hot, a physical weight pressing down on her shoulders. She looked out at the sea of faces—critics, peers, and strangers—none of which seemed to be looking at her, only at the void she represented.

She took the trophy from the presenter's hand. It was a jagged, cold slab of brushed steel, heavy and unyielding. It didn't look like a prize; it looked like a monument to something broken.

"Thank you," she said, her voice cracking slightly before she forced it steady. She didn't have a speech prepared. She had rehearsed lines about the future of storytelling and the democratization of art, but now those words felt like ash in her mouth.

"I didn't make this for the award," Midori said, the silence stretching out, uncomfortable and sharp. "I made it because the silence was too loud. When I started this project, I thought I was building a bridge. But halfway through, I realized I was just building a wall to keep the noise out. This... this object in my hand... it's just a mirror. It reflects what you want to see, but it doesn't show what's actually there."

She looked down at the steel trophy, then back up at the crowd. The applause had stopped. Someone coughed.

"I accept it," she continued, her voice dropping to a murmur that the microphone amplified into a whisper. "But don't mistake the acceptance for approval. I'm just taking it home so I can put it on a shelf and forget it exists."

She turned abruptly, the steel cold against her palm, and walked off the stage before the applause could restart. As she pushed through the heavy fire doors and into the cool, damp night air, the weight of the award felt lighter. It was just metal, after all. The real work, the real winning, had happened years ago, in the quiet dark of her own room, long before the lights ever came on.

👈 **Optimism +1.0**

The grand ballroom of the Kyoto International Tech Expo hummed with the low chatter of hundreds of innovators. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over rows of seated guests, all waiting for the night's highlight: the unveiling of the "Golden Leaf" Innovation Award.

Midori adjusted the collar of her deep green blazer, feeling the familiar flutter of butterflies in her stomach. She wasn't just there as a guest; she was a finalist. Her project, VerdeLink, was a simple yet revolutionary app that used AI to help urban gardeners monitor soil health and connect with local seed banks, turning concrete jungles into blooming oases.

"Next, for the category of Sustainable Future," the emcee's voice boomed, "the winner is... Midori Tanaka!"

A wave of applause washed over the room, louder and warmer than Midori had anticipated. She stood up, nearly knocking over her water glass in her excitement, and made her way to the stage. The spotlight hit her, making her smile so wide her cheeks hurt. As she accepted the heavy, leaf-shaped trophy from the hands of the expo's director, she looked out at the sea of faces.

She saw her mentor, Mr. Sato, wiping a tear from his eye. She saw her childhood friends from the neighborhood park where she first planted a seedling with her grandfather. And she saw the hundreds of young faces in the front row, eyes wide with inspiration.

Midori gripped the microphone, her voice trembling slightly before finding its strength. "When I was a child," she began, her voice carrying clearly across the silent room, "my grandfather told me that a single tree can change the world for the birds, the soil, and the people who sit beneath its shade. VerdeLink isn't just code or technology. It's a promise that we can all be that tree, no matter where we live."

She paused, looking down at the golden trophy. "This award doesn't belong to me alone. It belongs to every gardener, every student, and every person who believes that a greener tomorrow is possible. Thank you!"

As the applause erupted again, louder this time, Midori raised the award high. In that moment, she realized the true prize wasn't the trophy, but the spark she had helped ignite in the hearts of everyone watching. She had won an award, yes, but she had also planted a seed for a brighter future.

Acknowledgements

Based on the excellent work and cross-covariance eigendecomposition implementation by @jukofyork. His creative writing control vectors v3.0 repository contains the foundational code and methodology that made this possible, plus 70+ other creative writing control vectors across many models and useful steering directions. Highly recommended for anyone working on improving LLM prose quality!

The compassion_vs_sadism vector was trained on coder3101/Qwen3.5-27B-heretic to work around the refusals.