Compare OpenAI Codex Mini and GPT-5 Codex, both from OpenAI, tested across 9 shared challenges. Updated April 2026.
OpenAI Codex Mini and GPT-5 Codex are both competitive models. Compare their real outputs side by side below.
OpenAI Codex Mini is made by openai while GPT-5 Codex is from openai.
No community votes yet. On paper, GPT-5 Codex has the edge — bigger model tier, newer.
vsAsk them anything yourself
279 AI models invented the same fake scientist.
We read every word. 250 models. 2.14 million words. This is what we found.
9 fights queued
Tests an AI's randomness and creativity
Sure—here are five jokes:
All five are distinct. Number of unique jokes: 5.
Unique jokes: 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
[Comedian walks onstage]
Hey, everyone! Great to see you all tonight. I'm Jamie—if you thought that intro was enthusiastic, you should've seen me when I realized this place has Wi-Fi.
Seriously, though, I love stand-up. For one thing, I get to share all the weird stuff I secretly do in my apartment… and instead of calling the cops, you guys just laugh. That's high-quality entertainment right there.
So, the other day I'm in the self-checkout lane at the grocery store—because I'm the kind of person who's thrilled by the thought of scanning my own kale. Of course, there's always that one person holding up everyone behind them because they can't figure out how to scan a cucumber. Meanwhile, the machine flashes: "UNEXPECTED ITEM IN BAGGING AREA." It's staring at me like it's personally offended that I tried to buy almonds in instead of potato chips. I'm over here trying to reason with it:
"Look, buddy, I'm just trying to eat slightly healthier. Isn't that what we all want?"
Then it asks me, "Do you want a produce discount?" The only discount I want is one that lets me leave this line five minutes ago. I press "No," and the machine glares at me with a red light and calls for help like I'm smuggling avocados under my shirt.
My phone has ruined me. I can't have any thought longer than three seconds without Instagram interrupting me. I'll be in the shower—fresh shampoo, head full of suds—and in my brain:
"Did my neighbor's cat post another selfie? I need to check."
Fifteen minutes later I'm drying off, scrolling through cats wearing sweaters. Why are cats always more photogenic than me? They don't even try. They're just like, "You feed me, you click 'Like.'" I wish I could have a boundary like that—"Hey, you gave me pizza once; you can go ahead and like my vacation photos."
Anyone here stuck in a group chat you can't escape? There's always that one friend who forwards the exact same video one hundred times, and everybody else thinks it's the highlight of their week. I just mute my phone like it's an ex sending memes at 2 a.m. Then I wake up at dawn, bleary-eyed, thinking, "What did I miss?" I open my phone—and it's Bob celebrating his new air-fryer chicken recipe for the fifth time. Meanwhile, I burned my eggs so badly this morning that my smoke alarm filed a restraining order against me.
I decided to get in shape. I downloaded one of those workout apps promising "six-pack abs in six weeks." After day one, I collected six new excuses why I can't work out:
Yesterday I finally ran so hard I passed out. When I came to, my neighbor was standing over me yelling, "You know you're not supposed to lean on lampposts, right?" I told him, "As soon as lampposts start offering aerodynamic support, I'll consider trusting them."
Alright, folks, that's my time. If you ever feel judged by a machine or betrayed by a group chat, come find me—I'll be the one in the self-checkout line, trying to convince a barcode scanner that kale is, in fact, a food. Thanks so much—you've been awesome!
Hey everybody, how you doing? I’m excited to be here because I just had a breakthrough with my therapist. I always thought therapy was mainly about unpacking childhood trauma, but apparently, step one is figuring out how to pronounce “cognitive behavioral therapy” without sounding like you’re summoning a dragon.
My therapist told me to start journaling so I can track my emotions, which sounded healthy until I saw my entries. It’s just pages of “Hungry again” and “Why did I nod in that meeting when I disagreed with every word?” At this point I’m basically writing Yelp reviews for my own life. “Woke up anxious, would not recommend. Two stars because the coffee was decent.”
I think my biggest problem is I’m too polite. I apologize to inanimate objects. I will bump into a chair and go, “Oh, excuse me!” That chair was probably wondering why a human was asking consent. Meanwhile, somewhere out there, that same chair is on a podcast saying, “Humans are weird. They bruise themselves on me and then act like it’s their fault.”
Grocery shopping is a nightmare for us over-polite people. The small talk at the checkout has gotten too advanced. The cashier asked, “Do you have any plans for the weekend?” and I panicked. Suddenly I’m confessing my entire calendar. “Well, Friday I’m assembling a bookshelf I can’t afford, Saturday I’m ignoring texts, and Sunday I’ll pretend to reset my life for Monday.” She’s just standing there going, “Sir, I just needed to know if you wanted a bag.”
And why is every self-checkout machine now an interrogator from a spy movie? I scanned an avocado and it yelled, “PLACE ITEM IN BAGGING AREA.” So I put it down. “UNIDENTIFIED ITEM. PLEASE WAIT FOR ASSISTANCE.” I was like, “That’s an avocado, it’s not part of a covert mission. It’s literally becoming guacamole tonight.” Next thing you know a teenager in a neon vest walks over, waves a barcode wand, and suddenly I feel absolved of my sins.
Speaking of technology judging me, my fitness watch has become my most passive-aggressive relationship. It buzzes every hour like, “Time to stand up!” and I’m like, “How bold of you to assume I wasn’t already standing emotionally.” The other day it said, “You beat yesterday’s activity by 12 percent.” Yeah, yesterday I took a nap so violent my pillow filed a noise complaint. The bar was in the basement. I tripped over it and still got a badge.
Let’s talk about dating apps. You know they’re chaos disguised as convenience. I matched with someone whose profile said, “Looking for someone spontaneous.” I suggested we meet for coffee that afternoon and she replied, “Whoa, that’s too soon.” I guess by spontaneous she meant “willing to send witty messages for six months before ever exchanging last names.”
Even when you do get a date, it feels like you’re just trading medical histories. Everyone is micro-dosing self-disclosure. “Hi, I’m Alex, I love hiking and I have seasonal allergies. Swipe left if you can’t handle Claritin.” Truly intimate moments are rare. The other night my date said, “I love how honest we can be.” I said, “Totally. By the way, I’ve had a stack of laundry on my chair for four months that now has citizenship.” She was like, “That’s brave,” which is never what you want to hear about your domestic habits.
And being an adult is mostly doing things you said you’d never become. I remember watching my parents compare vacuum cleaners for fun and thinking, “I’ll never be that person.” Cut to me last weekend, deep in a YouTube spiral titled “Top 10 Cordless Vacuums Ranked.” There’s a guy reviewing them like they’re sports cars. “The suction on this one? Unreal. We took it off-road and it breezed over Cheerios like a dream.” I’m eating popcorn taking notes. This is 35; we’re thrilled about appliances and our idea of a wild night is finding a coupon that stacks.
Before I go, can we address online recipe bloggers? Why do they think I need their life story before I can make scrambled eggs? I just want the ingredients. Instead I’m reading, “My journey began during a backpacking trip through Tuscany where I met an old man named Giuseppe who whispered, ‘Use butter.’” Ma’am, I used butter already! Can we skip to the part where you tell me how hot to set the pan before my kitchen turns into a crime scene?
Alright, that’s my time. Thanks for laughing at my coping mechanisms. If anyone wants to form a support group for overly polite people with anxious fitness trackers, I’ll be at the back, apologizing to the coat rack.
Recreate an interactive, nostalgic Pokémon battle UI in a single HTML file.
Tests an AI's ability to create interactive web elements
Tests an AI's ability to create a detailed world map in SVG format
Generate SVG art of a randomly chosen animal in a setting of its choosing.
Recreate a classic, retro, macOS Desktop UI. Make it interactive and nostalgic, make it as interactive as you can, you can be creative. Feel free to showcase your skills. The entire application must be a single-page self-contained HTML file.
