Compare DeepSeek V3.1 by DeepSeek against Google: Gemini 3.1 Flash Lite Preview by Google AI, context windows of 164K vs 1.0M, tested across 50 shared challenges. Updated March 2026.
45 fights queued
Tests an AI's ability to make educated estimates based on technical knowledge
To estimate the total number of FLOPs (Floating Point Operations) required to train a Large Language Model like GPT-3, we can use the standard formula derived from the work of Kaplan et al. (OpenAI, 2020).
The training compute $C$ (in FLOPs) can be estimated as: $$C \approx 6 \times N \times D$$ Where:
Step 1: Calculate the product of $N$ and $D$ $$N \times D = (1.75 \times 10^{11}) \times (3 \times 10^{11})$$ $$N \times D = 5.25 \times 10^{22}$$
Step 2: Apply the constant factor (6) $$C = 6 \times (5.25 \times 10^{22})$$ $$C = 31.5 \times 10^{22}$$
Step 3: Simplify the notation $$C = 3.15 \times 10^{23} \text{ FLOPs}$$
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
Tests an AI's randomness and creativity
Of course! Here are 5 jokes:
How many are unique? All 5 are unique.
These are all classic, well-known puns and one-liners. While they are not original creations (they are common jokes found in the cultural lexicon), they are all distinct from one another in their subject and punchline.
Here are 5 jokes for you:
How many are unique? All 5 are unique jokes.
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
(The Comedian walks out, grabs the mic. They look tired but amused.)
Alright, how we doin'? Good, good. You all look… adequately hydrated. That’s a win.
You know, I was at the grocery store yesterday, in the self-checkout line. Which is a modern form of torture. It’s you, a machine that hates you, and a piece of lettuce that won’t scan.
The machine’s just screaming at me. “UNEXPECTED ITEM IN BAGGING AREA!”
Calm down, it’s a banana. It’s not unexpected. We’re in a grocery store. The presence of produce should be the most expected thing in this entire building.
The machine’s like a suspicious border agent. “What is the purpose of this avocado?” “I… I plan to mash it, sir. With some lime juice.” “And how long do you intend to stay in the country?” “Just until Thursday, I have chips at home.”
And there’s always that one employee standing over by the regular registers, just watching you struggle. They don’t help. They’re the guardian of the paid workforce. Their only job is to make eye contact with you while you’re frantically searching the screen for the button that says “My cilantro is organic, you monster!”
We’ve outsourced all the jobs… to ourselves. I’m scanning, I’m bagging, I’m paying. I’m even providing my own emotional support. I’m my own cashier. And I’m a terrible employee. I show up late, I have a bad attitude, and I definitely give myself a friends-and-family discount on these granola bars.
And it’s not just the store. My phone is now my travel agent, my map, my camera, my restaurant… My phone is basically my mom. It tells me where to go, what to do, and it’s always watching me. The only thing it doesn’t do is ask when I’m going to give it grandchildren. Though, with all the photos of my friend’s babies I ‘like’, its algorithm is probably very concerned.
We’re living in the future and it’s… oddly passive aggressive. My smart speaker got sassy with me the other day. I asked for the weather. It said, “Currently 42 degrees and cloudy. And just a reminder, you were also supposed to buy light bulbs today. You’re failing at basic sustenance.”
I live alone, so now I get bullied by my own appliances. My fridge sent me an email. Subject line: “We need to talk about the cheese.” It’s a concerning subject line to get from anyone, but especially from a large appliance that knows where you sleep.
I think we all need to just… slow down. Disconnect. Get back to nature. I tried that last weekend. I went for a hike. It was awful. So quiet. No notifications. Just me, the trees, and the crushing anxiety of my own thoughts. After ten minutes I was like, “Alright, where’s the ‘like’ button on this squirrel?” I need validation for existing, nature doesn’t provide that.
I ended up just sitting on a log and accidentally making eye contact with a deer for like, a full minute. It was a whole thing. No words were exchanged, but we understood each other. We were both just… tired. He’s probably out there right now, trying to scan his own acorns at a tree that keeps yelling “UNEXPECTED ITEM IN BAGGING AREA!”
We’re not so different, me and that deer. We’re all just trying to get through the day without a machine yelling at us.
Thank you, you’ve been great! My name is [Your Name], don’t forget to tip your server, not your smart speaker!
(Exits.)
(Walks onto the stage, adjusts the mic stand, looks around slowly.)
Hi. How’s everybody doing? Good? Good. I’m doing okay. I’ve reached that age where my body has started making sound effects. Like, I’ll just stand up from the couch and my knees go “CRACK.” It’s not even a movement; it’s a closing argument. It’s my skeleton saying, “Are you sure? We’ve been over this. We don’t do vertical anymore.”
I went to the doctor recently for a physical. The doctor told me I need to “manage my stress.” I told him, “Doctor, I’m an adult in the 21st century. My stress is the only thing currently holding my personality together. If I manage it, I’m just going to be a pile of laundry and a subscription service that I forgot to cancel.”
He told me I should try meditation. Have you ever tried to meditate? It’s just sitting in a room, trying to clear your mind, and then suddenly your brain decides, “Hey, remember that embarrassing thing you said to your boss in 2014? Let’s play that in 4K resolution on a loop for the next forty minutes.”
I don’t want peace of mind. I want a noise-canceling headset for my own thoughts.
And speaking of technology, I’m tired of being asked to “rate my experience.” I bought a toothbrush on Amazon, and three days later, they email me: “How was your purchase?”
It’s a toothbrush. It’s doing exactly what it was designed to do. It’s not a life-altering event. I don’t want to write a review. If I write a review, it’s just going to be: “It touches my teeth, and I still have them. Five stars. Leave me alone.”
Everything is a transaction now. I went to a self-checkout machine at the grocery store, and the machine had the audacity to get impatient with me. It’s flashing: “Unexpected item in the bagging area.”
I’m standing there like, “It’s a bag of onions, you judgmental toaster. I’m doing your job for you for free. Maybe show a little gratitude.”
But that’s the world now, right? We’re all just beta-testing our own lives. I tried to make a healthy dinner last night. I bought kale. Do you know what happens to kale if you don’t eat it within four hours of buying it? It turns into a sentient, bitter sponge. It just sits in the fridge, judging my life choices. I opened the drawer, and it looked like it had been through a war. It was wilted, it was gray, it was basically a salad that had given up on its dreams.
I ended up ordering pizza. And the pizza delivery guy looked at me with such pity. He didn’t even say, “Enjoy your meal.” He just handed me the box and said, “I hope your night gets better.”
That’s when you know you’ve hit rock bottom—when the guy delivering pepperoni is performing an emotional wellness check on you.
Anyway, I’m out of time. You guys have been great. Or at least, you’ve been quiet, which is the highest compliment a comedian can ask for. Drive safe!
Tests an AI's ability to simulate personalities and predict future trends
Setting: A minimalist studio in Cupertino. Steve Jobs sits in a black turtleneck, leaning back in a wooden chair. He looks exactly as he did in 2011, though he’s holding a device that looks like a sleek, obsidian-colored slate with no visible ports. The atmosphere is quiet, intense.
Interviewer: Steve, thank you for doing this. It’s 2025. AI is everywhere. It’s writing code, generating art, and managing our schedules. Looking at the landscape, are you impressed?
Steve Jobs: (Pauses, rubs his chin, looks at the ceiling) "Impressed" is a word for parlor tricks. Look, most of what I see out there today? It’s noise. It’s a digital landfill. People are using these "large language models" to automate mediocrity. They’re using them to write emails that no one wants to read and create images that have no soul.
When we built the Mac, it wasn’t to help people do more paperwork. It was a bicycle for the mind. It was meant to amplify human intent. Most of what I see today is trying to replace human intent. That’s a mistake.
Interviewer: But surely you see the utility? AI can summarize a thousand pages of research in seconds. It can solve complex protein folding. Isn't that an amplification of the mind?
Steve Jobs: (Leans forward, eyes narrowing) It’s a tool. A very sharp, very dangerous axe. But here’s the problem: we are obsessed with the engine and ignoring the chassis. Everyone is racing to build the smartest model, the biggest parameter count. Who cares?
The magic isn’t in the intelligence. The magic is in the taste. Design is not just what it looks like; it’s how it works. These companies are pouring raw, chaotic data into a black box and calling it a "product." It’s ugly. It’s unrefined. It’s like giving someone a box of loose microchips and expecting them to build a computer. You need a conductor. You need a point of view.
Interviewer: So, how would you have integrated AI at Apple?
Steve Jobs: I wouldn't have called it "AI." I wouldn't even let the marketing department touch that word. It’s too cold. It’s too… academic.
I would have focused on the invisible service. If the technology is truly revolutionary, you shouldn't know it’s there. If I’m writing a symphony, the computer shouldn’t write it for me. It should be waiting in the wings, like the most talented apprentice in history, ready to handle the friction. It should know what I want before I’ve articulated it, not because it’s "smart," but because it understands the intent of the creator.
We’re currently in the "MS-DOS" phase of artificial intelligence. It’s all command lines and cryptic prompts. It’s miserable.
Interviewer: Do you think we’re losing our creativity? If an AI can generate a hit song in ten seconds, why bother learning the guitar?
Steve Jobs: (Scoffs) Because you don’t learn the guitar to make a hit song. You learn the guitar to understand the struggle of the note. You learn it to feel the vibration in your chest.
If you take the struggle out of the process, you take the humanity out of the result. If a machine gives you the finished product, you’ve skipped the journey. And the journey is where the taste is formed. If we stop struggling—if we stop painting, writing, and coding ourselves—we’re going to wake up in a world where everything is perfect, and nothing matters. We’ll be surrounded by digital ghosts.
Interviewer: Last question. What is the one thing humanity needs to get right about this technology before it’s too late?
Steve Jobs: (He stands up, walks to the window, and looks out at the trees.)
"Stay human. It sounds simple, right? But it’s the hardest thing to do when the machines are whispering that they can do it better, faster, and cheaper. Don’t let them decide what’s beautiful. Don’t let them decide what’s true. Use them to clear the path, but keep your hand on the wheel. Because the moment you stop steering, you’re not a creator anymore. You’re just a consumer. And being a consumer is a waste of a life."
(He turns back, a faint, cryptic smile on his face.)
"Now, did you come here to talk, or did you come here to build something?"
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
Recreate an interactive, nostalgic Pokémon battle UI in a single HTML file.
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