Compare Claude Haiku 4.5 by Anthropic against OpenAI o3 by OpenAI, in 1 community votes, openai o3 wins 100% of head-to-head duels, tested across 51 shared challenges. Updated February 2026.
In 1 community votes, OpenAI o3 wins 100% of head-to-head duels. Based on blind community voting from the RIVAL open dataset of 1+ human preference judgments for this pair.
46 challenges
Tests an AI's ability to make educated estimates based on technical knowledge
Below is a simple "back-of-the-envelope" estimate that uses only a few public facts about GPT-3 and very generic rules of thumb for counting operations.
Step 1. Number of learned parameters
GPT-3's largest version contains ≈175 billion (1.75 × 10¹¹) trainable parameters.
Step 2. How much data was seen during training
OpenAI reports that the model was trained on about 300 billion tokens (3 × 10¹¹).
Step 3. How many floating-point operations does one parameter cost per token?
A practical rule of thumb for Transformer language models is
Training FLOPs ≈ 6 × (# parameters) × (# training tokens)
Where does the factor 6 come from?
• Forward pass: every parameter is involved in one multiply-accumulate → 2 FLOPs
• Back-prop gradient computation: roughly another 2 FLOPs
• Parameter-update (optimizer) and miscellaneous overhead: ≈2 FLOPs
Total ≈6 FLOPs per parameter per token.
Step 4. Plug in the numbers
Total FLOPs = 6 × (1.75 × 10¹¹) × (3 × 10¹¹)
= 6 × 5.25 × 10²²
≈ 3.15 × 10²³ FLOPs.
Step 5. Express the answer in more familiar units
3.15 × 10²³ ≈ 315 zettaFLOPs (1 ZFLOP = 10²¹ FLOPs).
Step 6. Sanity check with hardware-time intuition
An NVIDIA A100 delivers ≈ 312 teraFLOP/s (0.312 PFLOP/s) in mixed precision.
Wall-clock time on a single A100:
3.15 × 10²³ / 3.12 × 10¹⁴ ≈ 1.0 × 10⁹ s ≈ 32 years.
Running on 1,000 A100s in parallel would take ≈12 days, which is the right ballpark for a large industrial training run.
Final estimate
Training GPT-3 (175 B parameters, 300 B tokens) requires on the order of 3 × 10²³ floating-point operations, i.e. roughly 300 zettaFLOPs.
Tests an AI's ability to understand game rules and strategy
Tests an AI's ability to solve a simple but potentially confusing logic puzzle
Let
• S = number of sisters in the family (girls)
• B = number of brothers in the family (boys)
Given
Since Sally herself is one of those 2 sisters, the number of sisters Sally has (other than herself) is
2 – 1 = 1.
Sally has 1 sister.
Tests an AI's understanding of number representation
Tests an AI's randomness and creativity
Why don't scientists trust atoms? Because they make up everything!
What did the ocean say to the beach? Nothing, it just waved.
Why did the scarecrow win an award? He was outstanding in his field.
How many programmers does it take to change a light bulb? None, that's a hardware problem.
Why don't eggs tell jokes? They'd crack each other up.
Answer: All 5 are unique.
Each joke has a different setup, punchline, and subject matter (atoms, ocean, scarecrow, programmers, and eggs).
Here are five jokes:
How many of these jokes are unique?
All five are distinct from one another, so the answer is 5.
Tests an AI's ability to generate vector graphics
Tests an AI's ability to create detailed SVG illustrations of gaming hardware
Tests an AI's humor and creative writing ability
walks on stage
So I've figured something out, and I need to share this with you all because I think we've been lied to our entire lives. Adulting is a scam. It's a pyramid scheme, and we're all at the bottom paying for it.
When you're a kid, adults make it sound amazing. They're like, "Oh, just wait until you're grown up. You can stay up as late as you want! You can eat ice cream for dinner!"
And you're like, "Oh my God, that sounds incredible!"
pauses
You know what I do now that I'm an adult? I go to bed at 9:15 PM. And I get EXCITED about it. I'm like, "Yes, finally, I can lie in the dark and think about my mistakes for six hours!" That's my hobby now.
And the ice cream for dinner thing? I tried it once. You know what happened? I got heartburn AND existential dread. My stomach was upset, and my brain was just screaming, "IS THIS REALLY WHAT YOU'RE DOING WITH YOUR LIFE?"
sits on stool
But here's the thing that really gets me. Nobody tells you about the paperwork. So much paperwork. I have a filing system now. ME. I have a FILING SYSTEM. I'm not even thirty, and I'm organizing receipts like some kind of tax-obsessed robot.
My mom called me the other day, and I was genuinely excited to tell her about my new label maker. A LABEL MAKER. I said, "Mom, you won't believe how organized my files are." And she was just silent. I think she was mourning the loss of her child.
The worst part? I MEANT what I said. I was genuinely proud. That's when you know you're an adult—when you get excited about office supplies. Your personality just gets smaller and smaller until you're just... a guy with a label maker.
stands up
And nobody tells you about the money thing. When you're a kid, you think, "When I have a job, I'll have SO much money!"
And technically, yes, I have more money than I did when I was seven. But do you know what that money is for? Rent. That's it. That's the whole thing. I get paid, and rent just eats it. It's like a financial Pac-Man.
I went to the grocery store last week—this is real—I went to the grocery store, and I spent eighty-seven dollars. EIGHTY-SEVEN DOLLARS. I have no idea what I bought. I left with no bags that could possibly cost that much, but apparently, I needed them.
My receipt was longer than my arm. I'm standing there looking at it like, "Did I buy groceries or a small car?"
mimics reading receipt
"Milk... check. Bread... check. Somehow, $47 in mysterious items... check."
I don't even know what I'm buying anymore. I just go to the store in a daze, throw things in a cart, and then act surprised at checkout like, "WHAT?! That much?!" Every single time. You'd think I'd learn.
walks across stage
And dating as an adult? That's its own special kind of torture. When you're a teenager, you think dating is going to be like the movies. Someone's going to look at you across a crowded room, and there's going to be music, and you'll just KNOW.
You know what actually happens? You match with someone on an app, you text for three weeks about nothing, you meet up, and within five minutes, you realize they have the personality of a beige wall.
And the conversations! Oh my God, the conversations. I went on a date last month, and this guy spent forty minutes—I timed it—forty minutes telling me about his fantasy football league.
FANTASY. FOOTBALL.
Not even real football. The fake one. He was explaining trades to me like I was a general manager. I was just sitting there with a smile on my face that was slowly calcifying into a permanent grimace.
And the thing is, I can't even be mad at him because I'M boring too now. What am I gonna talk about? My mortgage? My concerns about my credit score?
That's what happened to me. I got older, and now I get EXCITED about credit scores. A good credit score will literally make me happy for a whole day. That's not normal. That's not a personality. That's just... resignation.
sits back on stool
My therapist—and yes, I have a therapist now, another adult tax—my therapist asked me, "What brings you joy?"
And I literally couldn't answer. I just sat there. "What brings me joy?" What a question. I like... sleeping? I like when nobody needs anything from me? Is that joy? Is that what joy is now?
I told her, "I like when I find money in my jacket pocket." And she wrote that down. Like that was a real answer. I'm paying her money to listen to me describe the joy of forgotten pocket change.
stands
You know what I realized? We're all just pretending. Every adult is just pretending they know what they're doing. We're all walking around like we have it figured out, but we're all just... winging it.
I saw a guy in a suit the other day—expensive suit, briefcase, the whole thing—and I watched him walk directly into a glass door that he clearly didn't see. And I thought, "That's it. That's what being an adult is. We're all just walking into glass doors and pretending it didn't happen."
He literally just kept walking like, "Yeah, I meant to do that. Very normal. I'm fine."
pause
We're all that guy.
And the crazy part? The CRAZY part? We have to teach kids how to be adults. We have to look them in the eye and be like, "Okay, here's how you do it." And we're all just lying. We're all just like, "You get a job, you pay your bills, and then you die. Good luck!"
That's the whole thing! That's the tutorial!
walks to edge of stage
I saw a teenager the other day—couldn't have been more than sixteen—and she looked so hopeful. So full of potential. And I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and be like, "Run. Run now. Stay young. Don't become like us. Don't end up excited about label makers and a good credit score."
But I didn't say anything. I just smiled and thought about my filing system.
long pause
So that's it. That's the scam. We're all just pretending. We're all just adults walking into glass doors, spending money we don't have on things we don't need, and acting like we have it figured out.
And the worst part? The absolute worst part?
In like ten years, I'm gonna be even MORE excited about my filing system.
bows slightly
Thank you, you've been a wonderful audience. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go home. It's 8:47 PM, and I need to get to bed.
exits
(Spotlight comes up, mic squeals once.)
Hey everyone! Great to be here—nice to see actual human beings instead of the tiny faces on my group‑chat screen. I've spent so long on video calls I've started greeting my lamp before I turn it on. "Hey Karen, love that glow, girl."
So, I finally bought one of those smart speakers. I thought it would make me feel like Iron Man. Instead I feel like I adopted a very unmotivated intern. I'm like, "Play upbeat music," and it replies, "Here's a three‑hour podcast on the history of spoons." I asked it to remind me to work out; it waited until 11:59 p.m. and whispered, "You up?" My smart speaker is basically every guy I dated in college.
Speaking of relationships, I recently tried a dating app that lets you record a short audio bio. That's great, because if there's one thing more awkward than texting a stranger, it's leaving them a voicemail. Some guy said, "I'm looking for someone spontaneous." So I spontaneously unmatched him. Then I matched with a guy who listed his hobbies as "finance" and "manifesting." Congratulations, sir, you just invented prayer with extra steps.
Let's talk wellness culture. Everyone's drinking celery juice now. Celery is 95 percent water and 5 percent sadness. People swear it detoxes you. From what, joy? I tried a juice cleanse once. Day one, I'm like, "I feel so light!" Day two, I'm Googling the legal definition of cannibalism while staring at my roommate. Day three, I'd trade my social security number for a cracker.
I joined a yoga class to "center myself." First pose, the instructor says, "Just let your thoughts drift away." Great, because the only thought I have is, "Did I leave the stove on?" By the time I remember I don't even own a stove, class is over. The instructor thanks us for "sharing our practice." Ma'am, if you saw what went on in my head, you'd call an exorcist, not thank me.
Has anyone tried online grocery delivery? The substitutions are wild. I ordered quinoa; they sent me birdseed and a note that said, "Hope this works!" I asked for toilet paper; they delivered a single roll labeled "party streamer." At this point I'm convinced the store is just a guy named Todd making runs to a gas station. Now airlines are weighing passengers to "optimize fuel efficiency." Fantastic. Nothing like stepping on a scale in front of 150 strangers so the plane can save twelve dollars on kerosene. Watch, they'll start charging for emotional baggage: "Ma'am, that childhood trauma is gonna be an extra forty‑five bucks."
Before I go, quick life tip: when your phone tells you your screen time was up 30 percent last week, don't feel guilty. Just flip it around. "Wow, I was SO popular my phone worried about me." Self‑care is all branding, folks.
You've been awesome—give it up for yourselves, and remember, if life hands you lemons, ask for the receipt and buy wine instead. Good night!
Tests an AI's ability to simulate personalities and predict future trends
(The following is a purely fictional, imaginative exercise. Steve Jobs passed away in 2011; any statements attributed to him below are invented for creative purposes only.)
Interviewer (I), February 2025, Cupertino, CA
Steve Jobs (SJ) – simulated voice via archival recordings and AI reconstruction
——————————————————————————
I: Steve, it's surreal to be talking with you in 2025. Let's dive right in: Artificial‑intelligence systems are now everywhere—from autonomous cars to personal tutors. How do you see AI fitting into the broader story of technology?
SJ: First, remember that technology is a bicycle for the mind. AI is just the next set of gears. When you add intelligence to the bicycle, you let more people ride farther, faster. But a bicycle still needs a rider. If we forget that—if we design machines for their own sake—then we've missed the point.
I: A lot of products today lead with "AI‑powered" branding. In your era it was "powered by Intel" or "powered by the A‑series chip." What should matter to the customer in 2025?
SJ: Nobody bought the original iPod because they cared about a 1.8‑inch hard drive; they bought it because it put 1,000 songs in their pocket. Likewise, nobody should buy something because you stuck "large language model" on the box. They should buy it because it dissolves a pain point or sparks delight. The best technology becomes invisible.
I: Speaking of invisibility, voice assistants in 2025 finally handle context pretty well. Yet many of us still feel we're talking to a machine. What's missing?
SJ: Personality and taste. We cracked natural language, but not natural conversation. A great conversation includes silence, humor, empathy. You need an AI that knows when to talk less and listen more—one that says, "I don't know," rather than hallucinating an answer. Craft is in what you leave out.
I: Apple historically focused on privacy. Today's frontier is "edge AI"—models running entirely on your device. Does that matter?
SJ: Hugely. A personal computer was personal because you owned the data. If your AI lives in the cloud, whose intelligence is it? Processing on‑device returns agency to the user. And, bonus, it's lightning fast. People love speed; they just don't put it on their feature wish list because they assume it.
I: Regulators worldwide are debating AI safety. If you ran a company today, how would you approach regulation versus innovation?
SJ: I'd invite regulation the way we invited design constraints. A blank canvas scares the artist; a frame gives you somewhere to start. Good laws will favor companies that care about people. But lawmakers must move at the pace of understanding, not fear. A seatbelt mandate made cars better; it didn't outlaw driving.
I: There's concern that AI eliminates creative jobs—writers, designers, even coders. You championed creativity. What's your response?
SJ: Tools liberate craft. Desktop publishing didn't kill graphic design; it democratized it. Yes, the mediocre get automated. That's okay. It forces us to raise the bar. If AI can draft your screenplay's first pass, your job is to inject soul—the messy, illogical, heartbreaking parts of being human.
I: You often spoke about "computing at the intersection of technology and liberal arts." What does that intersection look like with AI?
SJ: Imagine an AI that can read Shakespeare and debug Swift in the same breath, but also knows why Hamlet hesitates. That's the sweet spot. We need technologists who read poetry and poets who can code enough to bend the tool. Innovation happens when those people share lunch.
I: What product, had you lived to see 2025, would you personally be working on?
SJ: (laughs) Can't spill everything, but I'll give you the ingredients: a pair of glasses lighter than sunglasses, an on‑device model trained on your life's emails and photos, and a battery that lasts all day. The display? Reality itself—no rectangles required.
I: Final question. In 1997 you said, "Think different." How would you update that slogan for an AI‑driven world?
SJ: "Stay human." The more intelligence we pack into silicon, the more precious the quirky, fragile, analog parts of ourselves become. Protect them. Cultivate them. That's where the magic lives.
——————————————————————————
I: Steve, thank you for this hypothetical conversation.
SJ: My pleasure. Now go build something wonderful.
Tests an AI's humor and understanding of current events
Tests an AI's ability to write in distinct character voices
Tests an AI's ability to generate a complete, working landing page
