Month: September 2025

AI, Coding, and the Programmer’s Role

/ Brian Jones / Leave a comment

With all the fear, uncertainty, and doubt swirling around AI, I want to step back and explain how I actually use these tools—and why they’re not going to put programmers out of their jobs anytime soon.

I use AI every day. I have Claude (both with Claude Code and through Cursor) for coding, and ChatGPT for research, brainstorming, and expanding references. They’re valuable tools, but not magic. The difference lies in how you use them.

Why I use AI (and How)

I don’t “vibe code.” My projects are too large for that; the context breaks down fast. Instead, I give AI detailed prompts—documents that define the architecture, decisions, and examples. With that direction, AI performs far better.

That’s because I don’t ask AI to program. I ask it to code.

This may sound like a meaningless distinction, but it’s not. It’s the most important distinction to understand.

Programming vs Coding

A programmer designs and manages programs: defining architecture, analyzing requirements, breaking work into parts, and guiding execution.

A coder translates directions into code: the raw material that compilers and machines transform into deliverables.

AI can be a competent coder—sometimes better than average. But it’s not a programmer. It doesn’t do analysis, design, or leadership. And when people forget that, they get into trouble

A Lesson from the 1980s

This divide isn’t new. Back in the late 1980s, there was a war between developers who wrote everything in macro-assembler and those moving to C.

Assembler was powerful, efficient, and elegant—but slow to produce. With C, you could build a working system in hours instead of days.

Assembler advocates argued their code was smaller and faster. True, but in practice? Compilers were “good enough,” and C developers could deliver real products faster. The compiler did the assembly for us.

AI today is playing the compiler. Tools like Claude act as compilers or transpilers: they take structured instructions and translate them into code. They’re imperfect, but guided by a skilled programmer, they’re extremely productive.

The Real Risk

Here’s the danger: if you don’t know what good code looks like, AI will happily hand you bad code. You won’t even know it’s wrong until it breaks.

I’ve run experiments giving AI only vague, user-level instructions. The results? Usually poor, sometimes catastrophic. Without proper direction, AI produces junk.

It’s no different than trying to use a CNC machine (a sophisticated programming machine) without knowing mechanical engineering. More powerful tools amplify skill—but they also amplify ignorance.

So yes, people who blindly rely on AI are going to be eaten alive. And people like me, who know how to guide it, will make a good living fixing their messes

How to Use AI Well

  • Act like a senior developer. Even if you’re new, you need to define work clearly, divide it up, and review results.
  • Treat AI like a junior coder. Direct it precisely, review its output, and correct mistakes.
  • Don’t delegate what you don’t understand. If you can’t tell when code is bad, learn more before turning AI loose.
  • Remember the rule of thumb: if you need AI, you probably shouldn’t use it. If you don’t need it, you can use it to great benefit.

A Tool, Not a Crutch

AI won’t eliminate programmers. It will eliminate rote coding. The winners will be those who can lead, analyze, and architect—while treating AI as the world’s most tireless (if sometimes clueless) assistant.

The future belongs not to those who let AI code for them blindly, but to those who can guide and command it.

Keep the Light,
Otter
Brian Jones

Thirty Years of Redwall MUCK

/ Brian Jones / Leave a comment

It’s the end of an era … Redwall MUCK was created 30 years ago, with permission from Brian Jacques, as a site to allow role-playing within his universe.

I had the pleasure to found it (or often a pleasure, sometimes not, that’s the nature of a social system) and run it as its Chief Wizard, Otter.

It’s a day for celebration, though I know many are sad to see it go. 30 years is a great run!

We had thousands of characters, and quite a few less players (players can have many characters, and we only tracked characters). We demanded privacy for our users, before privacy was well known. We expected good and kind players. We mostly got them. Many people made life-long friends and even met spouses in our community. It was a great place.

When Brian Jacques passed away in 2011, his works stopped. At that point, without his regular updates to the universe and his promotion, the series readership fell away as well. Everyone wants the new thing. It was a given that our users would drift as well.

Some asked why I didn’t give it away, was it expensive to host, etc.

I didn’t give it away because the people that entrusted their secrets to it (which they shouldn’t have done but did) would have had their secrets exposed to whomever received it. They trusted us, and we honored that trust.

It was never about the money. The MU cost under $10/month to run.

A TV program named Barney Miller may be unknown to most of our players, but it ran a few years. When they didn’t have a good set of new stories to tell, they closed it and took it off the air. It was smart, and it meant they left only good memories. Other shows ran long after there was nothing to say. Who remembers or wants to remember them?

Thus, we came to a close.

On September 15, 1995 the MU started.

On September 14, 2025 the MU closed for the final time.

I sent the final system message. It was this:

Otter shouts, “Go forth everyone and bring into reality that which was brought here. And pass it forward, do what they say can’t be done. Thank you all for coming, and it wouldn’t have been the same without each and every one of you. To 30 great years!”

I meant it.

There should always be places for those who don’t fit in, who wish for a place to go where things are better, who are welcomed when they arrive. For 30 years, Redwall MUCK was such a place.

Thank you, all of you, players and confused non-players alike.

And while it’s not literally true, the idea is still true:

I won’t say goodbye to you, because one evening you may drop by to share this good life with us. You know you are always welcome at Redwall Abbey. All you need to bring with you is a ready smile and an open heart.

Keep the Light,
Otter