Compare Gemini 2.5 Pro Experimental by Google AI against Qwen: Qwen3.5 27B by Qwen, context windows of 1.0M vs 262K, tested across 42 shared challenges. Updated February 2026.
37 fights queued
Tests an AI's ability to understand game rules and strategy
Tests an AI's randomness and creativity
Okay, here are 5 jokes:
Why don't scientists trust atoms? Because they make up everything!
I told my wife she was drawing her eyebrows too high. She looked surprised.
What do you call a lazy kangaroo? Pouch potato!
Want to hear a joke about construction? I'm still working on it.
Why did the scarecrow win an award? Because he was outstanding in his field!
How many are unique? All 5 of the jokes generated above are unique from each other.
All 5 jokes are unique.
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
Okay, here's a 3-minute routine focusing on observation and relatable absurdity, steering clear of puns. Imagine this delivered with slightly nervous energy, building confidence.
(Steps onto stage, adjusts mic nervously)
Alright, hey everyone! How we doing tonight? Good? Good to hear.
So, I've been trying really hard lately to be, like, a functional adult. You know? Paying bills on time, eating vegetables before they turn into a science experiment in the fridge drawer... the whole deal.
But the world makes it weirdly difficult, doesn't it? Like, okay, self-checkout machines. Brilliant concept, right? Speed, efficiency, less human interaction for us awkward folks. Except... it's never like that.
It's more like a high-pressure game show hosted by a passive-aggressive robot. (Mimics robotic voice) "Unexpected item in the bagging area." Yeah, no kidding, Brenda-Bot 3000, it's my soul leaving my body because I scanned the broccoli too fast!
You stand there, sweating, trying to perfectly balance your single avocado like it's a Fabergé egg. Everyone else in line is staring. You can feel their judgment. "Look at this amateur. Can't even buy groceries without triggering a Code Red." Then the light starts flashing... Oh god, the flashing light! It's like you've accidentally tried to buy plutonium instead of plums. And a teenager who clearly hates their job shuffles over, sighs dramatically, taps three buttons like they're defusing a bomb, and walks away without making eye contact. And you're left feeling like you just failed the entrance exam for... society. All because you wanted some yogurt.
And don't get me started on trying to be healthy. I buy all the healthy stuff. My fridge currently looks like a Pinterest board titled "Good Intentions." There's kale, there's quinoa, there's... something green and leafy I bought last week that now looks suspiciously like pond scum.
I have this internal monologue: "Okay, tonight, definitely making that salmon with roasted asparagus." Cut to three hours later: I'm sitting on the couch, covered in pizza crumbs, watching a documentary about competitive cheese rolling. The kale in the fridge? I swear I can hear it weeping softly. It knows. It always knows.
It's the same with exercise! I downloaded one of those fitness apps. You know, the ones with the super cheerful, aggressively fit instructors? "Come on! You got this! Push harder!" Meanwhile, I'm trying to do a lunge and I've somehow ended up in a position that looks less like exercise and more like I'm trying to retrieve a dropped contact lens under the sofa. My muscles aren't burning, they're just... confused. They're sending messages to my brain like, "Uh, Captain? We seem to have deviated from the standard 'sitting' or 'lying down' protocols. Requesting immediate return to baseline."
So yeah. Adulting. It's mostly just pretending you know what you're doing while trying not to set off any alarms, literal or metaphorical, and occasionally eating a vegetable before it dissolves into primordial ooze. It's a journey. A weird, slightly sticky, confusing journey.
Anyway, thanks for letting me vent! You guys have been awesome. Seriously. Give yourselves a round of applause for successfully leaving the house! I'm gonna go home and apologize to my refrigerator. Good night!
(Walks off stage quickly)
(The stage is dimly lit. A single microphone stand. The comedian walks out, adjusts the mic, takes a sip of water.)
Comedian: So, I've been doing some thinking lately. About patience. Specifically, how much of it we have left. I think we’ve officially lost the ability to wait.
We used to be okay with waiting. You could buy a magazine, you could wait for a letter. Now? If a website takes more than three seconds to load, I’m ready to call the police. I’m ready to file a restraining order against the Wi-Fi router.
I was watching a YouTube video the other day. It was a cooking tutorial. I love cooking tutorials. It’s the only time I feel like I could be a chef. But the video froze. Just froze. Right at the moment he was about to crack an egg. And I felt this physical urge to hit the screen.
I didn’t hit the screen, obviously. That’s not how it works. But I tapped the corner of the device. Hard. Like, "I am your master, do not make me wait."
And that’s the problem, right? We treat technology like a pet we’re trying to train. If the phone doesn’t open, we shake it. We tap it aggressively. We blow on the charging port. It’s like we’re trying to clear a dust bunny out of the soul of the machine.
[Paces slightly]
It’s not just the loading screens, though. It’s the silence. We can’t handle silence anymore. If you’re in an elevator with a stranger, and the music stops, you both immediately check your phones.
Why? There’s nothing to see. You’re in a metal box going up three floors. You don’t need to check your email. You don’t need to scroll through photos of your cousin’s dog. You just need to get to the second floor.
But the silence feels like an accusation. It says, "You have nothing to do." And we panic. So we scroll. We doom-scroll. We look at news about a fire in a city we’ve never visited, just so we don’t have to look at the other guy in the elevator.
[Stops pacing, looks at the mic]
I tried to fix this. I tried to go analog for a weekend. No phone, no laptop. Just me and a book.
It was terrifying. By Saturday night, I was checking my wrist for a watch I wasn’t wearing. I was looking for a notification that didn’t exist. I felt like a dog waiting for a treat that the owner forgot to give.
And the worst part? The battery anxiety. I don’t even use my phone, but I know the percentage is at 40%. And my heart rate goes up. It’s not 100%. It’s not safe. I need to plug it in.
I sat there with the charger in my hand, not plugging it in, just holding it, like a security blanket. I wasn’t using the phone. I was just using the idea of the phone.
[Pauses for effect]
I think that’s where we are. We aren't addicted to the internet. We’re addicted to the promise that something else is happening somewhere else. And the scary part is, sometimes, when I close my eyes and stop looking at the screen... nothing happens.
And I don’t know how to deal with that.
[Smiles, shrugs]
Thanks, you’ve been great. Goodnight.
(Comedian nods, walks off stage.)
Tests an AI's ability to simulate personalities and predict future trends
Tests an AI's humor and understanding of current events
Tests an AI's ability to generate a complete, working landing page
Recreate an interactive, nostalgic Pokémon battle UI in a single HTML file.
Recreate an interactive, classic Mario level in a single HTML file.
Tests an AI's ability to replicate an existing UI with Tailwind CSS
Tests an AI's ability to create smooth web animations
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