Someone else on my team now uses a Mac, and every now and then some Unicode hyphen character makes its way into comments and my Linux box displays a mysterious character when I page through the code that always catches me off guard.


I could go on and on about all of our recognizable quirks, but living in a code base with that history is like living in a Berkeley Craftsman home. 



(7/10)

It's old, it's creaky, okay, it's missing AC and you're probably going to die when it hits 100 in the summer (which happens all too often these days), but dammit, it's charming and it's artsy and you will die defending the seventeen layers of paint that have accrued in the living room (or you're just too scared to sand it because of lead paint). It's lived in and it's comfortable.

Whereas if you've looked at Claude generated code, like I've had to for the past six months, it's...


(8/10)

A very efficient modern house with white walls and triple paned windows and an open concept kitchen?

Ok. I think the housing analogy breaks down.

Look, I'm not saying there's a "Live Laugh Love" sign on the wall, but whatever it is, it's not an interesting personality. It's sterile? Obsequious? Verbose?

There's no typo or quirk that immediately recalls an interesting whiteboard discussion in the author's office. It's just code and comments repeating what the code does.

(9/10)

Code is art. I work at a studio full of ungodly talented artists, but I will still die on this hill. Code is often messy and dirty and it's a pain to create and get right but the results reflect the personality of the creator and the pain of the creation. Just like the rest of art. Sometimes you have to look at the source code to see that, but it's there if you look for it, hidden beneath the surface.

AI generated code is not art.

(10/10)