标签：#AI

Not long ago I wrote about how I built a browser-based board game called "Growing City" in three days using AI — and how the hardest part wasn't the code at all. Some time has passed, and I wanted to share what happened next. Layout Bugs While vibe-coding solo, I only tested on my own screen, resolution, and browser. The problem surfaced as soon as real users joined with different setups: some people saw everything misaligned, some things got clipped, some cards overlapped each other. This is how it looked on some screens I had to rewrite the layout to use adaptive sizing so the game looks correct regardless of screen resolution. It should work now — but if something still looks off on your end, let me know and I'll fix it. Bots Started Talking Another change, unrelated to bugs. The service started feeling more alive. Previously, bots just played: rolled dice, bought cards, said nothing. Now they react in the chat to what's happening in the game — if someone's building gets taken, if someone buys an expensive card or runs out of money. It's a small thing, but the game feels noticeably more lively. An empty game with silent bots versus a session where someone's commenting on what's happening in chat — it's a meaningfully different experience, even though the game itself is the same. Thank You to Early Players A special thanks to everyone who tried the game after my first article. And extra thanks to a user with the nickname SHAM, who pointed out that the game rules never said you can't buy multiple purple cards in a row — even though the game itself has that restriction. Fixed! What's Next The project is still going. I'm thinking about ads and other ways to bring in players. Without new users, it's hard to get feedback — and without feedback, it's hard to know what to fix or improve first. The unit economics don't quite work out yet: paid acquisition costs more than I'm willing to invest at this stage. I'll keep figuring it out. If you have ideas on how to find playe

I love board games — especially the kind you can play without leaving home. You just call your friends, drop a link, and you're playing in minutes. At some point, I caught myself wondering: how realistic is it to build a complete game almost entirely with AI? Not a prototype, but something actually playable. I decided to find out. Three days later, I had a working browser-based board game: rooms, multiplayer, bots, chat, full game sessions. But the most interesting thing turned out to have nothing to do with AI writing code. What's the Game? The game is called "Growing City" (Растущий город). It's an economic board game about developing your own city. Each turn, players roll a die, buildings activate, income flows in, and you earn money to buy new structures. Gradually you build up enterprises, construct your economic engine, and race to complete all the key buildings before your opponents. You can play directly in the browser with no registration. I wanted the simplest possible entry: open the site, enter a nickname, create or join a room. If the mechanics seem familiar — you're not imagining it. I was inspired by a well-known city-building board game. Day 1: AI Really Can Write Games I'm not a developer. I work in tech, but I don't code professionally. Over the past few months I've been experimenting heavily with vibe coding, so I decided to build this project the same way. I didn't start with code at all. First, I wrote out the mechanics in detail: what cards exist, how a turn plays out, what should happen in each situation. Once the logic settled, I started gradually converting the description into code using AI. Day 2: Writing the Game Was Just the Beginning When the first playable version appeared, it quickly became clear that the code was far from the hardest part. The biggest problem was balance . If you leave everything as-is, players find the single most profitable strategy within a few games and repeat it endlessly. I had to manually tweak card costs, adj

The news comes about a week after OpenAI announced its own custom AI chip in a partnership with Broadcom.

Every sprint starts with optimism. The board is clean, the story points are perfectly balanced, and the team is ready to ship. Then, Tuesday happens. The CEO wants a "quick favor." A major client finds a critical bug in production. The marketing team urgently needs a landing page tweak. By Thursday, your pristine sprint board is buried under a mountain of "urgent" tickets that were never discussed in planning. This is Unplanned Work , and it is the silent killer of engineering velocity. Why Unplanned Work is So Dangerous It’s not just that unplanned work takes time. The real damage comes from context switching . When a developer is deeply focused on building a new feature, forcing them to stop, spin up a local environment for a different repository, debug a legacy issue, and then try to return to their original task destroys their flow state. A "10-minute quick fix" actually costs the company an hour of lost productivity. When this happens multiple times a week: Deadlines Slip: The tasks you actually committed to get pushed back. Burnout Increases: Developers feel like they are working hard but accomplishing nothing. Trust Erodes: Management wonders why the team can't stick to a timeline. How to Protect Your Team You cannot eliminate unplanned work completely. Bugs will happen, and production will break. But you can manage it. 1. The "Firefighter" Rotation Instead of letting unplanned work disrupt the entire team, assign one developer per sprint to be the "Firefighter" (or Batman/Support). Their only job for that sprint is to handle urgent bugs, ad-hoc requests, and unblock others. The rest of the team is completely shielded. 2. The 20% Buffer Rule If you have 100 hours of developer capacity, never plan 100 hours of feature work. Always leave a 20% buffer specifically for unplanned tasks. If no fires start, you can pull from the backlog. If fires do start, your deadline isn't destroyed. 3. Track the "Ghost" Tickets The worst kind of unplanned work is the kind that h

A former software manager claims Wisk rushed software testing ahead of a crucial 2025 flight test.

Nearly half a century ago, the free software movement made a demand that was both technical and moral: Users should have the freedom to understand, run, modify, and share the software on which they depended. It was a demand born from practical life with machines. A printer that couldn't be fixed. A program that couldn't be studied. A system that asked its users to accept dependence as the price of progress. That belief shaped modern computing and gave us the tools and norms that made the internet, open infrastructure, and collaborative software development possible. Today, that belief faces its hardest test. The technology has changed, but the warning signs are familiar. In 1980, at the MIT AI Laboratory in Cambridge, Massachusetts, a new Xerox 9700 printer was installed. The previous printer had come with source code that could be modified, inspected, recompiled, and reinstalled. Richard Stallman had changed that software to message users when their print job was done or when there was a jam, a small but meaningful feature since the printer sat several floors away. The new printer arrived with software preloaded and installed, no source code available, no way to modify it. If you needed help or new features, you hoped and prayed Xerox would listen. That loss of agency, alongside other anti-consumer shifts in early software, helped push him toward GNU and the free software movement: the belief that software should be free as in freedom, free to inspect, run, study, modify, understand, and redistribute. AI and inference services today are not too dissimilar. Closed frontier intelligence can make entire companies, governments, developers, and communities dependent on systems they cannot inspect, reproduce, modify, or meaningfully contest. At the dawn of this AI moment, we were promised unfettered intelligence across our products, companies, and codebases. We were told we'd be free to build whatever we wanted. At first, with tab completions. Then whole function blocks.

by Peter Yang, Behind the Craft Today, I want to share 18 hot takes on where I think the AI market is headed. AI is in a weird place right now. The government is restricting access to frontier models, enterprises are becoming conscious of token costs, and everyone’s trying to rebuild their product for agents first instead of humans. I’ve interviewed dozens of AI leaders and spent far too much time following these topics on X/Twitter. Here are 18 hot takes on where I think AI is headed next: The frontier-only AI stack is collapsing The AI super app era is here Traditional software risks becoming a dumb pipe for agents Cloud agents and collaboration are the next wave The Frontier-Only AI Stack Is Collapsing Tokenmaxxing at frontier API prices makes no sense. Uber burned through its entire 2026 AI budget in 4 months, Microsoft moved engineers off Claude Code due to cost, and companies are realizing that running everything on frontier models can get expensive fast. Tokenmaxxing makes sense when you’re on a subsidized $200/month plan but is unsustainable at API rates. Companies will rely on a portfolio of models. Coinbase recently cut its AI spend nearly in half by switching engineers to Chinese open-source models like GLM and Kimi. Airbnb and Pinterest have done the same with Alibaba’s Qwen models. I believe that this will be the default path forward — using frontier for high-stakes work and cheaper models for everything else. China’s open-source strategy is working. Chinese models are taking market share from frontier models at US companies. China is also building the full AI stack — from energy (e.g., solar, nuclear) to data centers to domestic chips. The Chinese government is planning a $295B investment in AI data centers with at least 80% of the chips built domestically. Frontier labs are in a catch-22 situation. If they release great open-source models, they might undercut their own frontier API revenue. If they gate the best models behind a trusted list, companies

What happens when a machine no longer needs to be trained to see something new? That's the quiet question sitting underneath this week's news, buried next to a less invasive brain implant and a handful of robots getting tougher for the real world. Neuralink says it's completed its first "transdural" brain implant, a surgical approach built to reduce trauma during the procedure. As someone who spends a lot of time thinking about how you get sensors close to a human eye without hurting anyone, I find these less-invasive-implant strategies worth watching, because the surgical-risk problem is basically the same one we wrestle with in ophthalmic hardware. Vision is getting less invasive too, in its own way. Roboflow rolled out text-prompt object detection built on SAM3 (Meta's latest segmentation model): you type the class of object you want "forklift," "cracked tile," whatever, and it returns boxes and masks without you collecting a single training image first. That's a real shift. For most of computer vision's history, teaching a model to recognize something new meant labeling hundreds of examples before you could even start; this collapses that step into a sentence. The same week brought several applied builds using the same detect-then-orchestrate pattern: a drone system that patrols for intrusions, a pipeline that inspects transmission lines for damaged cables, and an airport tool that spots foreign debris on the tarmac. The Robot Report's roundup of June's biggest robotics stories leaned heavily on humanoid robots companies going public, new deployments, and production milestones stacking up faster than would have seemed plausible a few years ago. Apptronik unveiled its Apollo 2 humanoid alongside a dedicated data-collection facility built so the robot keeps learning after it's deployed, not just during initial training which quietly answers one of the harder questions in robotics: how do you keep a system improving once it's out of the lab? X Square Robot raised e

For a few days, it seemed like Universal decided that there would be no advanced screenings of Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey for influencers. But on Monday, influencers sat alongside traditional critics and journalists at special showings of The Odyssey specifically for the associated press junket. Despite what it may have looked like, Universal was not […]

This tutorial was written by Néstor Daza . This is the second article in a series about building Claudius , my own Claude-based chatbot ( Github ). The prologue made the case for building it, and for choosing MongoDB as its foundation. Open the conversations collection in Claudius’ database and you find the usual fields of a thread header but nothing else: a userId , a title , some timestamps , and so on, but no array of messages, no messages collection sitting beside it either! The text of every conversation lives somewhere else entirely, in the LangGraph checkpointer, which I wire up later in this series. This absence is a modeling decision, and how I came up with the database schema for my chatbot is the theme of this article. If you come from a relational background, you're used to modeling the data first when designing a database. For a project like this, you would start by finding the entities and normalizing them, and the final schema would come out of the data's structure: a conversations table and a messages table with a foreign key between them, because that is what the data looks like. Document modeling runs the other way. You start from how the application reads and writes, and the shape of the document follows the access patterns. Claudius never reads conversation messages without the agent's full working state wrapped around them, and that state is persisted using the LangGraph checkpointer. A separate messages table would add nothing, since the app would always have to join it back to that state on every read. The access pattern says the messages belong with the agent state, so that is where they go, and conversations are left as the lightweight header the list view actually needs. That inversion, modeling around use rather than around the data, runs through everything below. Schema-flexible is not schemaless This is the misconception lots of people often carry, and it is worth killing on the way in. A document database does not mean no schema; it mea

By Hiral Shah, Senior Director, Product Management, Docusign A major recurring theme among the engineering teams at this week’s AI Engineer World’s Fair in San Francisco is the push to move specialized AI models out of research and directly into high-volume production. At Docusign, that optimization challenge happens at massive scale: we handle millions of transactions daily and have nearly 1.9 million customers in over 180 countries. Organizations have historically lost significant value every year to the friction, delays, and missed obligations that come from treating these agreements as static documents rather than live sources of business data. Much of that trapped value sits inside tables: the pricing schedules, SLA obligations, and contractor rate cards that define enterprise relationships but are often the hardest part of a contract to extract accurately. To solve this, we integrated NVIDIA Nemotron Parse , a vision-language model purpose-built for document understanding, directly into our document processing pipeline. Docusign and NVIDIA took the AI Engineer World’s Fair stage this week to give attendees a look at how the architecture works under the hood. Here’s what that looks like: Why Contract Tables Break General-Purpose AI Contracts routinely contain merged cells, multi-page structures, mixed formatting, and nested layouts that general-purpose vision language models (VLMs) and broad AI models weren't designed to handle. The result is inaccurate extractions that require manual correction, slowing down the workflows they are intended to accelerate. Our teams watch this operational friction play out across real enterprise scenarios every day: System Downtime: When a critical system goes down, operations teams need to know immediately which SLA notification requirements apply and to whom. Resource Tracking: When business stakeholders ask legal what hourly rate was agreed to in a contractor engagement, the answer is often buried deep inside a rate card tabl

by Sergey Karayev, cofounder @ Superconductor Recently, my wife and I sat down to plan an upcoming trip. Naturally, we each asked an AI. Trouble was, I had my chat and she had hers, and they knew nothing about each other. So we served as couriers between chatbots: her idea pasted into my chat, my hotel booking screenshotted into hers, the itinerary reconciled by hand in a Google Doc. I bring this up because your team probably works the same unfortunate way: each person in their own chat or coding agent session, with precious little shared. I've been building software with the same set of people for over a decade. In the past year, we all got a superpower: coding agents that can do extremely impressive things. But each one (Claude Code, Codex, Cursor, etc.) was built for a single player. That's fine and dandy if you're vibe-coding your own little app. It's just you and Claude, and it's absolutely magical. But put that same agent on a team and the magic fades quite a bit. The model is no longer the bottleneck. Coordination is. You don't know who's working on what. You can't see that an agent already tried the approach you're about to attempt, and abandoned it. You spend an hour re-deriving context that a teammate has, because it's trapped in their private chat. Now let me tell you of a better way. On the Superconductor team, every coding agent session is in the cloud, open to anyone else on the team to join. What this enabled was transformative. Code review improved first. My teammate reviews my work by joining the session I built it in. The session holds the full history of decisions, including the dead ends. Instead of Slacking me "why'd you name it this way?" she asks the agent. She gets her answer, and I never waste time answering. She also doesn't have to check out the branch locally — the live app preview in the cloud sandbox does the job. Handoffs became easy. If I have to pass a feature to a teammate, he picks it up with full context: what's done, what's left,

When the enemy is in distress, exploit the opportunity to seize advantage. — The 36 Stratagems, Loot a Burning House Who's Leo — In the last story , he was CoreStack's backend lead — the guy who built the core system alone over five years with zero P0 incidents. Then a new CTO named James showed up, spent $8M on his old employer's product, and laid off Leo's entire team. Thirteen days later, that $8M AI system collapsed — three agents fighting over context, OOM taking down six GPU servers, a 37% order duplication rate, and 2,300 customer complaints. Leo pulled the old system off his laptop, flipped one line of Nginx config, and restored service in thirty seconds. The CEO called him at 3 AM begging him to come back. He came back. Three conditions: kill the paid AI product, AI assists only — never touches the primary pipeline — and engineers decide the architecture, not the guy writing checks. The CEO agreed to all of it. So who's Leo now: CoreStack's CTO. Technically confident to the point of arrogance. Zero talent for upward management. No idea how many people he pissed off on the board with those conditions. Doesn't care. He only knows one thing — the system he built is still running. That's all the proof he needs. Then a Slack message cut him off. The Signal 12:47 AM. CoreStack's CTO gets a Slack notification. The account has no profile picture, no display name, no status. Account creation timestamp at the bottom — 00:43. Four minutes old. Seven characters: Check CodeForge's status page. Leo taps it open. CodeForge's status page is all red. Payment Routing — Major Outage. Investigating. All customers affected. Status has been active for approximately 3 hours. He pulls up CoreStack's CRM. The sales team's prospect list has ShopStream at #2 — a potential whale, with "Current Provider" reading CodeForge. E-commerce platform doing 470,000 transactions a day . An hour of downtime costs them $210,000 . If this drags on until morning? He doesn't want to do the math. Core

OpenAI CEO Sam Altman has reportedly proposed giving 5% of the company’s equity to a U.S. sovereign wealth fund, reviving discussions about letting the public share in the financial gains from the AI boom.

TV Time, the popular TV-tracking app, is shutting down on July 15 as parent company Whip Media pivots toward enterprise AI products.

Insiders say Sam Altman is in active talks with the Trump administration.

FTC urged to reject Elon Musk’s bid to end X monitoring amid AI concerns.

We are so excited to finally announce the winners of the GitHub Finish-Up-A-Thon Challenge, our...

Microsoft follows Amazon, OpenAI, and Anthropic with its new AI deployment group.

HDMI excels for media consumption, while PC gamers prefer DisplayPort.