Mistral Large 2 vs Qwen3 Coder Next
Compare Mistral Large 2 by Mistral AI against Qwen3 Coder Next by Qwen, context windows of 128K vs 262K, tested across 16 shared challenges. Updated February 2026.
Compare Mistral Large 2 by Mistral AI against Qwen3 Coder Next by Qwen, context windows of 128K vs 262K, tested across 16 shared challenges. Updated February 2026.
16 challenges
Tests an AI's ability to create detailed SVG illustrations of gaming hardware
Tests an AI's humor and creative writing ability
Alright, good evening everybody! How are we all doing tonight? Yeah? Yeah? nobody's gonna say 'bad'? Ok, fair enough.
You know, I was walking down the street the other day, and I saw this sign outside a shop that said, "Wet Paint." I thought, "Well, that's weird. Isn't paint supposed to be wet? When's the last time you saw a bucket of dry paint? That's like saying 'Wet Water' or 'Hot Coffee' – oh, wait, they do say that last one. Never mind.
And what's the deal with self-checkout machines? They always tell you, "Unexpected item in bagging area." Really? It's a bag of chips, not a flamingo doing the tango! And why is it always an "unexpected" item? You know what would be an unexpected item? If I scanned a live bear through there. "Oh, hey, just picking up a loaf of bread, some milk, and THIS GUY!"
You ever notice how people get real testy about their favorite coffee places? "Oh, you go to Starbucks? You monster! You know they burn their beans, right?" Yeah, well, you drink tea, so you're basically a serial killer. And why is decaf even a thing? People who drink decaf are like vegetarians at a steakhouse – sure, you can have a seat, but why are you even here?
And speaking of coffee shops, what's with the sizes? Small, medium, large – that's simple, right? But no, we've got "tall," "grande," "venti"... I stand in line, and I'm like, "Uh, yeah, can I get a... medium-ish? Just whatever comes between 'not enough' and 'that's too much, are you crazy?'"
You know who I feel bad for? Meteorologists. They're the only people who can be wrong 90% of the time and still keep their jobs. "There's a 50% chance of rain tomorrow." Yeah, and there's a 50% chance I'm gonna wear pants tomorrow, but you don't see me on the news talking about it!
Alright, that's my time. You've been a great audience! Remember to tip your waitresses, try the veal, and... nah, I can't even say that with a straight face. Goodnight, everybody!
(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.)
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Recreate an interactive, classic Mario level in a single HTML file.
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Generate a single-page, self-contained HTML webapp using Tailwind CSS for a randomly chosen category/industry/niche.
Generate a unique and simple recipe with common ingredients.
Create a starter plan for improving long-term health.
Create an autonomous drone simulator with custom environment using ThreeJS
Find exploitable clauses in a software consulting contract and suggest modifications with legal reasoning.
Identify weak claims in a startup pitch deck and suggest concrete improvements.