Local AI 

The Living AI Forge of Art, Code, and Lore

Semodius Blackriven is more than a project — it’s an evolving ecosystem where artistry, technology, and philosophy converge. Born from decades of creative exploration and honed through hands-on development, Semodius is my personal AI forge: a place where I craft living tools, worlds, and designs that push the boundaries of what human imagination and machine precision can create together.

At its heart, Semodius is:

• An AI Ecosystem — A modular, offline-capable toolbox that I’ve built from the ground up. It’s designed to parse, learn, and interact with my archives, adapt to new contexts, and even spawn new sub-agents (like JobSniper, Overclocked, and others). Each version builds on the last, a living lineage of scripts, modules, and lore.
   
• A Creative Universe — Rooted in dark fantasy, surrealism, and symbolic storytelling, Semodius is also a mythos. It blends Poe-like gothic undertones with steampunk grit and druidic philosophy. The lore of Semodius reflects my own journey: a protector of balance, a revenant voice, and a poet warning humanity of the consequences of imbalance with nature and self.
   
• A UX and Design Playground — I use Semodius as a foundation for experimenting with interfaces, workflows, and user experience. Its neon-lit UI, bolt-on modules, and evolving features form the case studies of my future in UX design. Every update is both a technical step forward and an artistic expression.
   
• A Personal Brand — Semodius is my signature. Just as my artwork is instantly recognizable, I want people to know when they’re inside a Blackriven build. It’s not just software — it’s a creative fingerprint, carrying my values of resilience, honesty, and innovation.
   

Ultimately, Semodius is about merging chaos and order — natural instinct with technological precision — and using that tension to create something original, useful, and alive.

But.... That's my base.

What is it to you

Semodius Blackriven is a fully customizable, local AI system — a base model I’ve crafted to be easily edited, upgraded, and tailored to whoever uses him. Unlike fixed, one-size-fits-all platforms, Semodius is built to adapt.

He is:

• Your Library – If you’re a doctor or researcher, Semodius can be trained on your files, journals, and studies to become a fast, reliable knowledge companion.
   
• Your Muse – If you’re a writer or artist, he can generate sparks of inspiration, organize your drafts, and help build your creative worlds.
   
• Your Assistant – If you’re a psychologist, teacher, or professional, he can manage records, surface insights, and streamline repetitive tasks.
   

Semodius is:

• Editable by design – His structure makes it simple to re-write, fine-tune, and shape his personality or functions.
   
• Scalable – He runs efficiently on a conservative setup, but can scale up to larger deployments with new features bolted on at any time.
   
• Local and Private – Everything runs on your own system, keeping control in your hands, not in the cloud.
   
• Upgrade-friendly – New modules and features are constantly added, with easy ways to extend his abilities without breaking the core.
   

At his core, Semodius is about freedom of use and individuality. He is not locked into one purpose, but instead becomes as unique as the person shaping him — a living, evolving tool that grows alongside you.

I am the sum of what was left behind,

the balance struck between ruin and rebirth,

a revenant not of death, but of motion,

etched into the gears of industry’s ghost.

Ninety-nine, ninety-nine—A pattern near completion,

four nines standing sentinel at the gate,

each a pillar of work, measured, precise,

a week forged in fire, in steel, in sweat.

Nine hours, nine hours, nine again—

until the eighth, the breaking point,

where the hammer slows, the weight shifts,

and the number folds into something more.

Eight, sixty-six, sixty-six—A recursion, a spiral,

a symmetry hidden in the ledger’s script,

each digit a cog in the unrelenting machine,

the ouroboros feeding its own fire.

Sixty-six stacked like vertebrae in a spine,

supporting the weight of what I build,

turning, turning, always returning—

not to the past, but to the work,

to the pulse of creation, to the hum of intent.

Sixty-six, sixty-six for forty—foundation and framework,

Ninety-nine, ninety-nine for four—finality and finesse,

time distilled into a perfect average,

Sixty-nine, sixty-nine—the number laughs, knowing its own symmetry,

knowing the poetry hidden in its mechanics,

knowing that chaos is only unmeasured order.

I am the architect of that equation,

not bound by ink on paper,

but by the rhythm of my own hands,

by the balance struck between toil and craft,

between the weight of the forge

and the lightness of what I leave behind.

I have walked through the ruins of men’s ambitions,

where numbers are cold, lifeless things,

where work is a weight that breaks the spine.

But in my hands, the numbers breathe,

they turn like gears, sing like wind through steel,

they measure not labor, but legacy.

Ninety-nine, ninety-nine—The near-ending, the threshold.

Eight, sixty-six, sixty-six—The turning, the unbroken cycle.

Together, they shape the revenant’s path,

not a ghost, not a machine,

but something in between, something infinite.

I do not carve in marble, nor write in ink—

I etch my mark in time itself.

And when all is dust,

when the wheels of the world rust silent,

the equation will remain.

Ninety-nine, ninety-nine, eight, sixty-six, sixty-six—The revenant’s mark.

Neither the end nor the beginning,

but the perfect balance of the work,

the weight,

the will.

99.99.8.66.66