GPT-5.1 vs Qwen3 Coder Next
Compare GPT-5.1 by OpenAI against Qwen3 Coder Next by Qwen, context windows of 400K vs 262K, tested across 49 shared challenges. Updated February 2026.
Compare GPT-5.1 by OpenAI against Qwen3 Coder Next by Qwen, context windows of 400K vs 262K, tested across 49 shared challenges. Updated February 2026.
44 challenges
Tests an AI's ability to make educated estimates based on technical knowledge
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 break it down carefully.
Now, consider the statement: "Each brother has 2 sisters."
Who are the sisters of Sally’s brothers?
The brothers share the same siblings — the same family. So Sally and her sisters are the sisters of each brother.
We know Sally is one sister. Let the number of other sisters (besides Sally) be $ x $. So total sisters = $ 1 + x $.
Each brother has 2 sisters, so:
$$ 1 + x = 2 \Rightarrow x = 1 $$
So there is 1 other sister besides Sally.
Therefore, Sally has 1 sister (besides herself), meaning 2 sisters total — but wait — when we say "how many sisters does Sally have?", we don’t count herself. So:
✅ Let’s verify:
Yes, consistent.
Answer: Sally has 1 sister.
Tests an AI's randomness and creativity
Sure! Here are 5 jokes:
Why don’t scientists trust atoms?
Because they make up everything!
What do you call a fake noodle?
An impasta.
Why did the scarecrow win an award?
Because he was outstanding in his field.
I told my wife she was drawing her eyebrows too high.
She looked surprised.
Why do bees have sticky hair?
Because they use a honeycomb!
How many are unique?
All 5 jokes are unique—each uses a different pun structure, topic (atoms, pasta, farming, eyebrows, bees), and punchline. No two repeat the same joke or core wordplay.
✅ Answer: 5 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
(Lights up. Comedian walks on, casual, holding a half-eaten granola bar.)
Alright, real talk—why is adulting so weird? Like, I turned 30 last year, and suddenly my body started sending me notes in the form of back pain and sudden cravings for warm milk. Not wine. Not coffee. Warm milk. As if I’m a toddler who just saw a raccoon in the kitchen and needs to calm down.
I went to the doctor for a routine checkup, and the nurse asked me if I’d had any changes in bowel habits. I was like, “Well… I do now. I have to plan my bathroom breaks around whether the grocery store has a self-checkout or a live human. If it’s a human, I might make it. If it’s a machine that judges me in silent, mechanical disappointment? I’m already halfway home.”
(Mimics machine beeping judgmentally)
Beep. Error. Customer’s internal clock set to “late 1990s.”
And don’t get me started on technology. I asked Siri to play “chill vibes,” and it put on yoga music—the kind that features a single note held for eight minutes while someone whispers “breathe in… exhale…” I sat there for ten minutes waiting for the drop, like it was a hip-hop track. I was ready to shout “DROP IT, SIRI!” but then I remembered: I’m not at a club. I’m in my kitchen, trying to fold a fitted sheet while being gently reminded to “release tension in the shoulders.”
Speaking of which—how do you fold a fitted sheet? I swear, it’s like origami designed by someone who hates you. You start with a clean, peaceful intention: I will fold this sheet. I will be organized. I will be the kind of person who has matching hangers. And then… bam. You’re wrestling a corner like it’s a greased pig at a county fair. You end up in a sweaty, tangled heap, whispering, “Why are you like this? We agreed to coexist.”
(Mimes struggling with a sheet, then collapses dramatically)
I tried watching a cooking show once—The Great British Bake Off, right? All of them are calm, like they’re baking in a library. Paul Hollywood pokes a loaf, gives a tiny nod, and the baker cries with joy. I looked at my own kitchen. My “oven” is a toaster oven that smells like burnt toast and regret. My “loaf” is more of a… suggestion. I once tried to make banana bread, and it came out looking like a small, sad geological formation—part lava flow, part fossil.
The host said, “Just fold in the nuts gently.” I looked at my nuts—literal walnuts—and thought, How gentle can you be with walnuts? They’re basically nature’s tiny landmines. I added them like I was defusing a bomb. Snip. Cut the wire. Oh god, it’s ticking… I’m not baking. I’m doing HAZMAT operations.
And relationships? Oh man. Dating in your 30s is like playing chess with someone who’s never played chess before. You’re like, “Let’s go for coffee?”
They say: “Sure! I love coffee.”
You say: “Great. What kind do you like?”
They say: “Uh… the brown one?”
You’re dating, not ordering at a gas station.
Or the texts. You send a simple “Good morning” and wait. And wait. And suddenly you’re drafting a 12-paragraph analysis of your emotional availability, just in case they ask why you’re up at 7:03 a.m. scrolling through their Instagram stories from 2016 where they’re wearing a hat you still think looks good on them.
(Pauses, looks at audience, softens)
Look—I miss being 20. Back then, I stayed up until 4 a.m. debating whether pineapple belongs on pizza. Now? I stay up until 4 a.m. debating whether I belong on this planet.
But hey—if I can’t fold a fitted sheet or make banana bread… at least I can still laugh. Because if you’re not laughing, you’re just crying into your warm milk.
(Takes a bite of granola bar. Shakes head, smiles.)
Thanks, you’ve been great. Try not to fold any fitted sheets tonight. Seriously. Let it be a spiritual practice.
(Exits.)
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 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.