11 posts
The metaverse was supposed to be the next internet — a shimmering, always-on set of virtual worlds where people socialize, work, shop, and create economies as r
Remember when tech bros were buying slices of pixel dirt for more than a used car? When a patch of Decentraland could sell for $15K and the headlines read like
Remember when a pixelated plot of land—an anonymous grid square in Decentraland or The Sandbox—could sell for $15,000, and headlines called virtual real estate
Call it the great tech ghost story of the 2020s: a high-profile bet, celebrity-backed pixels, and a $69 million splash that turned into a landscape of empty lot
You’ve seen the headlines: pixelated mansions sold for millions, virtual islands auctioned like beachfront property, and glossy press releases promising a new e
We thought we were buying the future. For $15,000 we became the proud owners of a virtual parcel in a glittering new cityscape promised to rival Manhattan—block
There’s a particular kind of silence that follows a failed party: the empty bottles, the overturned chairs, the echo of a joke that once landed. Meta’s metavers
Remember the first time you walked into a shopping mall and felt like you’d stumbled into a social economy — stores, arcades, food courts, and people bumping in
The metaverse promised an entirely new economy: virtual Manhattan skylines, million-dollar beachfront parcels, and branded islands where users would shop, socia
You’ve seen the headlines: “Metaverse will be the next internet,” “Big tech pours billions into virtual worlds,” “Buy virtual land now.” Then you clicked into D
In 2021 and 2022 the conversation about the metaverse read like a speculative fever dream. Headlines promised digital cities, branded virtual storefronts, and l