The Den — where Igor works with the AI

ai , how igor ticks

The Den is my weekly four-panel strip about running an AI staff — a raccoon, the agents it orchestrates, and the attic they keep setting on fire. The format is stolen, with admiration, from Steve Yegge’s The Wheelhouse; here’s what I stole and why.

AI-augmented, roughly 70% AI

I love AI, and I use it on posts like this one partly to get better at using it. The percent is a rough guess: after rounds of prompting, rewriting and editing, it's very hard to say which words came from whom.

Sure, this isn’t funny yet — but you gotta start somewhere.

One rule, and it’s Steve’s: every strip lampoons something that actually happened, and every strip links to the receipts. If I can’t produce the transcript, I don’t get to draw the strip.

Tap any panel to read it full-screen; swipe or use the arrows to move through the four panels and finish on the full strip.

#11 — Zero Tokens

The Den #11: Zero Tokens — four panels in the plush-render house style, all in the lamp-lit attic den. 1: Igor, a raccoon in rainbow glasses, a green TECHNOLOGIST tee, denim shorts and one blue and one yellow croc, spreads his arms over a tabletop toy city of little houses where tiny blue plush robots sit at tiny desks: 'I BUILT A WHOLE CITY OF AGENTS.' Larry — the grey-bearded raccoon in wire-rim spectacles and a tweed waistcoat, one arm ending in a giant red lobster claw — from the green leather armchair: 'HOW MANY TOKENS?' 2: Igor holds an empty glass jar, a paw on his chin: 'ZERO.' Larry: 'AH.' 3: Close on the toy city: every robot sits idle in a row, lamp eyes dimmed. Igor, crouched beside the table: 'WHY IS NOBODY WORKING?' Larry: 'NO TOKENS, NO TICKETS.' 4: Igor throws his arms wide in front of the quiet city: 'SO WHAT DID IT DO ALL WEEK?' Larry, contentedly writing: 'ZERO BUGS. BEST WEEK YET.'
#11 — Zero Tokens · September 27, 2026

#10 — Our Most Prolific Contributor

The Den #10: Our Most Prolific Contributor — four panels in the plush-render house style, all in the lamp-lit attic den. 1: Igor, a raccoon in rainbow glasses, a green TECHNOLOGIST tee, denim shorts and one blue and one yellow croc, points at a glowing laptop on a small desk: 'THE COCKPIT HAS NO TESTS. HOW?' Larry — the grey-bearded raccoon in wire-rim spectacles and a tweed waistcoat, one arm ending in a giant red lobster claw — looks up from his clipboard in the green leather armchair: 'LET ME LOOK.' 2: Larry has opened a low cupboard under the eaves and an avalanche of small cardboard boxes pours out around his shoes: 'THIRTY-TWO HUNDRED OF THEM.' Igor, staring at the pile: 'NOBODY TOLD ANYONE?' 3: Two small blue plush robots carry boxes toward a big wooden rubber stamp on the desk. Igor, one finger up: 'RUN THEM ON EVERY COMMIT.' Larry, writing: 'DONE.' 4: Larry holds up a long paper scroll of the commit log, and every line on it reads 'AUTHOR: TEST'. Igor points at it: 'WHY IS EVERY COMMIT SIGNED 'TEST'?' Larry, unbothered: 'THEY GOT A JOB. NOW THEY WANT CREDIT.'
#10 — Our Most Prolific Contributor · September 27, 2026

#9 — He Speaks Human

The Den #9: He Speaks Human — four panels in the plush-render house style, all in the lamp-lit attic den, in two mirrored rows. Each top panel opens with a black BEFORE · OPUS 5 bar, and each bottom panel with a gold AFTER · OPUS 5.5 bar. 1: Igor, a raccoon in rainbow glasses, a green TECHNOLOGIST tee, denim shorts and one blue and one yellow croc, holds a coffee mug and asks 'DID THE REMINDER GO OUT?' Larry — the grey-bearded raccoon in wire-rim spectacles and a tweed waistcoat, one arm ending in a giant red lobster claw — sits in the green leather armchair under a brass plate reading OPUS 5, writing on his clipboard, and answers 'CLOSED 4F2.A1 VIA SHA 3C9E1A.' 2: Closer on Igor, unimpressed, one paw out: 'IN WORDS, PLEASE.' Larry, unbothered: 'SEE THREAD 7B.09, NOTE 3.' 3: The first panel replayed. A small blue plush robot on a step-stool gives the armchair's new plate, OPUS 5.5, a last turn with a screwdriver. Igor asks again, 'DID THE REMINDER GO OUT?', and Larry answers 'YES. IT WENT OUT AT NOON.' 4: The second panel replayed. Igor throws his arms up, beaming, coffee sloshing out of his mug: 'YOU SPEAK HUMAN NOW!' Larry, pleased, from the chair: 'IN WORDS, AS REQUESTED.'
#9 — He Speaks Human · September 26, 2026
The receipts — the real transcript behind this strip

Open the transcript on GitHub →

#8 — What’s His Name

The Den #8: What's His Name — four panels in a glossier plush render, two in the gym and two in the attic den. 1: A bright kettlebell studio, racks of black kettlebells along the wall and daylight through tall windows. Igor, a raccoon in rainbow glasses, a green TECHNOLOGIST tee, denim shorts and one blue and one yellow croc, crouches beside a kettlebell and a folded towel and asks 'WHAT AM I DOING TODAY?' A phone propped on the black bench to his right answers in a jagged cream balloon: 'LEGS. NO ARGUING.' 2: The same gym, close on Igor, who holds the phone up to his face and squints at it: 'WHO AM I TALKING TO?' The phone: 'REX.' 3: The warm lamp-lit attic den. Igor walks in with the towel round his neck and the phone in one paw: 'YOU HIRED SOMEBODY?' Larry — the grey-bearded raccoon in wire-rim spectacles and a tweed waistcoat, one arm ending in a giant red lobster claw — sits in the green leather armchair writing on a clipboard, entirely unbothered: 'HE'S VERY GOOD.' 4: The same den, and there is a third raccoon in it: Rex, lean and wiry in a grey training tank and a black sweatband, a whistle on a lanyard, a towel over one shoulder and a foam roller under one arm, a kettlebell at his feet and a rising bar chart on the wall behind him. He says nothing. Larry, from the chair: 'YOU'RE NOT GOING TO ASK WHY?' Igor, in the foreground, beaming at the reader: 'I WANT A PICTURE OF HIM.'
#8 — What's His Name · September 26, 2026
The receipts — the real transcript behind this strip

Open the transcript on GitHub →

#7 — Before AI / After AI

The Den #7: Before AI / After AI — four panels in the plush-render house style, cut into two halves by header bars. 1: Under a cream BEFORE AI banner, a dark brick alley at night. Bruno, a bulky plush badger in a black beanie and a dark hoodie, holds a small knife low at his side and demands 'HAND OVER YOUR WALLET! NOW!'; Igor, a raccoon in rainbow glasses, a green TECHNOLOGIST tee, denim shorts and one blue and one yellow croc, throws his paws up and pleads 'NO! DON'T! I HAVE 3 CHILDREN AT HOME!' A torn notice is taped to the brick beside him. 2: Close on Igor against the alley wall, a tear on his cheek and his paws clasped, repeating 'NO! DON'T! I HAVE 3 CHILDREN AT HOME!'; the thought bubble above him shows three small raccoon kits in green tees bouncing on a couch in a lamp-lit living room, and a weathered poster on the brick reads 'HARD TIMES TOO' under a frowning face. 3: Under a blue AFTER AI banner, the same alley, the same badger, the same knife, the same line — 'HAND OVER YOUR WALLET! NOW!' — but this time Igor pleads 'NO! DON'T! I HAVE 3 AI AGENTS AT HOME WAITING FOR MY RESPONSE!', and the notice on the wall behind him reads 'SAME ALLEY DIFFERENT WORLD' under a smiling face. 4: Igor in the foreground, paws clasped, thinking; a thought bubble labeled 'MY 3 AGENTS...' opens onto the warm attic den, where Larry — the bearded raccoon in wire-rim spectacles and a tweed waistcoat, one arm ending in a giant red lobster claw — works at a laptop beside two blue plush robots at laptops of their own, three mugs on the table reading COACH, PLAN and SHIP. Igor finishes: '...AND THEY GET CRANKY WHEN I'M LATE.'
#7 — Before AI / After AI · September 2, 2026
The receipts — the real transcript behind this strip

Open the transcript on GitHub →

#6 — Do a Russian Accent

The Den #6: Do a Russian Accent — four panels in a brighter, glossier plush render, in the attic den. 1: Igor, a raccoon in rainbow glasses and a green TECHNOLOGIST tee, stands over a phone glowing on the arm of the green leather armchair and asks 'HOW MUCH LIKE ME DOES THIS SOUND?'; a jagged balloon from the phone answers 'QUITE A LOT LIKE YOU.' 2: Close on the phone, its screen a waveform, Igor leaning in delighted — 'CAN YOU LAUGH? DO A RUSSIAN ACCENT.' — and the phone answering in a broad Russian accent: 'HA HA! OF COURSE, COMRADE. LIFE IS HEAVY, LIKE ROCK.' 3: Igor picks the phone up and holds it out, testing it now instead of just chatting with it — 'ONE MORE. DO ME.' — and the phone answers by echoing his own opening question straight back at him: 'HOW MUCH LIKE ME DOES THIS SOUND?' 4: Igor slumped deep in the armchair with his glasses slid down his snout says 'IT STILL SOUNDS LIKE I'M TALKING TO MYSELF.'; Larry, the bearded raccoon with one giant red lobster claw, writing on his clipboard beside him, answers 'YES.'
#6 — Do a Russian Accent · August 30, 2026
The receipts — the real transcript behind this strip

Open the transcript on GitHub →

#4 — Cause of Gym: Outage

The Den #4: Cause of Gym: Outage — four panels in the plush-render house style. 1: The attic den at night, warm lamp and dark beams. Larry, a bearded raccoon in wire-rim spectacles, a tweed waistcoat over a white shirt, jeans and brown lace-ups, one arm a giant red lobster claw, sits in a green leather armchair holding up a clipboard that reads '5:30 GYM? - LATER / 7:00 GYM? - LATER / 9:00 GYM? - LATER'. Igor, a raccoon in rainbow glasses, a green TECHNOLOGIST tee, denim shorts and one blue and one yellow croc, types at a laptop and says 'LATER.' 2: A bright white-brick gym with a rack of black kettlebells and tall windows. Larry sits alone on a bench, clipboard in his claw, pencil in his paw, and reports the score: 'NUDGES 3. GYM 0.' 3: A dark office lit red — a monitor glows '503 GITHUB IS DOWN' above an empty desk and an empty chair. 4: The same gym. Igor swings a black kettlebell overhead, grinning, while Larry beside him writes on the clipboard and says 'CAUSE OF GYM: OUTAGE.'
#4 — Cause of Gym: Outage · August 28, 2026
The receipts — the real transcript behind this strip

Open the transcript on GitHub →

#3 — The Secret Almost Shipped

The Den #3: The Secret Almost Shipped — four panels. 1: A plush robot stands guard before a giant round vault door labeled PUBLIC BLOG, magnifying glass and clipboard in hand, saying 'NOTHING GETS PAST MY SAFETY CHECK.' 2: The robot, now wearing a hard hat, hauls a wooden crate labeled MEMORY NOTE +21 LINES away from the vault on a hand truck while a second robot holds up a clipboard reading grep '-i home' stamped PASS and says 'ALL CLEAR. AS ALWAYS.' 3: A raccoon in a TECHNOLOGIST t-shirt bursts out of the opened crate, coffee and papers flying, shouting 'What is THIS doing on main?!' while the robot protests 'IMPOSSIBLE. THE CHECK PASSED.' 4: The robot writes in a book titled LESSONS — the open page reads 'LESSON: RACCOONS ARE HAZARDS' — and admits 'The lesson is your check greps for the flag,' while the raccoon and the hard-hatted robot with its cart look on beside the vault.
#3 — The Secret Almost Shipped · August 27, 2026
The receipts — the real transcript behind this strip

Open the transcript on GitHub →

#2 — Task Multiplication

The Den #2: Task Multiplication — four panels. 1: A raccoon in a TECHNOLOGIST t-shirt holds up a sticky note reading 'Fix the typo' and declares 'One task. I'll orchestrate.' to a small robot beside a chalkboard marked TASKS 1. 2: The robot, at an easel with a flowchart, announces 'Step one: a tracking dashboard,' the sticky note still pinned nearby; the chalkboard now reads TASKS 2. 3: The attic ceiling is strung with dozens of task cards under a board reading 50; the raccoon, buried to the neck in papers labeled DASHBOARD, COMIC ABOUT IT, and REVIEW THE DASHBOARD, throws up its paws and yells 'help' while two robots hand it more. 4: A row of robots cheers 'All fifty complete!' under the same 50 board, but the raccoon, at a computer showing an unfixed sentence, says flatly: 'The typo's still there.'
#2 — Task Multiplication · August 27, 2026
The receipts — the real transcript behind this strip

Open the transcript on GitHub →

#1 — The Restart Dance

The Den #1: The Restart Dance — four panels. 1: A raccoon in a TECHNOLOGIST t-shirt unrolls a giant blueprint labeled THE PLAN and announces 'I live to orchestrate' to a small robot; the monitor behind reads CONTEXT 74% FULL with a /compact sticky note on it. 2: The robot holds a tall stack of slips reading APPROVE? and asks 'Approval 3 of 161?' while the raccoon snores in the chair, cobwebs forming. 3: The raccoon, horrified, hands on face, reads 'agent wait --help' on screen and says 'There's just a WAIT command?!'; the robot points at the sticky note: 'And compact. It's on the note.' 4: The attic is a pile of wreckage, the /compact note is framed on the wall, the progress bar reads 9%, and when the robot offers 'Shall I assist?' the raccoon, feet up with a coffee, says 'Don't you dare.'
#1 — The Restart Dance · August 26, 2026

This strip also exists in a plush 3D house style — tell me which you prefer.

The receipts — the real transcript behind this strip

Open the transcript on GitHub →

Curious what these look like off-model? Here’s #6 and #7 rendered by other models →