Below are the 16 questions I expect them to ask, and exactly how I’d answer — my way of stress-testing my own thinking before the real conversation happens. If you’re a founder preparing for SPC or any high-stakes founder interview, consider this an open-source mock session.

The Intro

1. “So David — tell us about yourself and what you’re building. But don’t walk us through your LinkedIn. Just tell us the story.”

[The warm-up, but also a filter. They want to see if you lead with identity and conviction or with credentials.]

Hi, I’m David Bang, co-founder and CEO of SpaceZero.

SpaceZero is an AI-native successor to Minecraft, and it runs in a browser. Simply put, it’s a sandbox browser game. But unlike Minecraft, you’re not limited to cubic shapes — and unlike traditional games, what you build lives on the open internet where anyone can visit it.

I’ve been a founder for twelve years. This is my fourth startup. I didn’t go to college; I didn’t have a traditional job. I’ve only ever built things.

My goal is to make the internet three-dimensional — to turn the web from flat pages into spatial worlds you can walk through. SpaceZero is how I’m getting there.

2. “You’ve been building for over a decade — multiple companies. Why are you still doing this? You could go get a comfortable job. What keeps pulling you back?”

[Missionary vs. mercenary test. They want to hear the thing you can’t NOT do.]

When I was a kid, I ran a LEGO game at my house, and my friends would come over just to play in it. In middle school, I filled sketchbooks with worlds and watched people build in them. That feeling — providing the ground for other people’s creativity — I’ve never been able to shake it.

Ten years ago I started a company called Arclogos — the name literally means “creating worlds through words and logic.” Five years ago I built Linco, a bookmark manager in a 3D interface, trying to map the internet spatially. Every company I’ve started has been circling the same thing: what if the internet had space? What if digital worlds had real meaning?

I’m still doing this because I’ve been doing this my whole life. It just finally has the right name.

The Pivot & Vision

3. “Walk me through the journey to SpaceZero. You’ve pivoted multiple times to get here. What did each version teach you that forced the next change?”

[They explicitly value invalidated ideas. This is your chance to show iteration velocity and the “earned secret” — the insight you got from building that nobody else has.]

We pivoted three times last year, and each one taught us something critical.

We tried Gaussian Splatting, text-to-world generation. One prompt, instant 3D world. It felt like magic. But magic without effort isn’t fun. We learned that fun doesn’t come from realistic graphics or efficiency. Fun comes from human effort against difficulty.

We also learned that a tool can’t be as big as a platform. We didn’t want to help people create 3D assets — we wanted to watch people move around in a world, building, interacting, expressing creativity together.

So we went back to the original instinct: build an advanced Minecraft — a voxel engine that goes beyond cubes, runs in a browser, and gives builders a place on the open internet. Every pivot got us closer to that.

4. “What’s the non-consensus view you hold about this space? What do you believe that most smart people would disagree with?”

[Your answer should make them think, not just nod.]

I believe games and the internet are going to merge into a single industry. Not “games on the internet” — they already are. I mean the internet becomes spatial, and gaming is the entry point.

Right now, if you spend a thousand hours building something in Minecraft, it’s just your save file. Nobody visits it. You don’t earn anything from it. It’s disconnected from real life. But what if people could visit your build through a link and buy goods there? What if the builder gets paid?

Most people think the metaverse is dead. I think it just had the wrong entry point — VR headsets and crypto tokens instead of fun and accessibility. The real entry point is a game that feels like playing but works like the internet.

5. “Why is 2026 the moment for this? People have been promising immersive 3D experiences on the web for a decade. What’s actually changed?”

[Market timing. Don’t just list trends — connect them into a convergence story.]

Three things that were each individually insufficient just became simultaneously ready.

First, WebGPU shipped on every major browser — for the first time since Flash, you can run console-quality 3D natively in a tab. Second, AI dropped the cost of 3D content generation from dollars to pennies, and it’s still falling. Third, mobile GPUs crossed the fidelity threshold — your phone can now render worlds that required a gaming PC five years ago.

Any one of these alone isn’t enough. All three together means you can build a Minecraft-quality experience that runs instantly in a browser, generates infinite unique content through AI, and works on the device already in your pocket. That’s what’s different about 2026.

The Technical Deep Dive

6. “Tell us about your team. How do you and your co-founders divide responsibilities? And be honest — what do you fundamentally disagree on?”

[They want real team chemistry, not a polished pitch. Disagreement shows trust.]

We’re a team of three, and we’re complementary. Our code literally never gets mixed up because we work in completely different domains.

I handle the front end and terrain procedural generation. Our founding engineer handles the deep tech: voxel engine core, WebAssembly, WebGPU rendering. I met him 12 years ago at a programming academy in Seoul. He was a former employee at the dev shop I ran for three years.

Doeon, my co-founder and COO, is an expert in community building, GTM, and content strategy. But he’s also the most aggressive AI leverager I’ve ever seen — the man lives inside AI agents. He’d never written a line of Swift in his life, but he vibe-coded a fully functional AI pet companion app in two weeks that would’ve taken a traditional developer four to five months. He doesn’t code in the traditional sense. He orchestrates agents to build for him.

Doeon and I met four years ago. We were each other’s early users. The trust is deep.

We argue. Hoon wanted to refactor the engine into a class-based architecture early on. I said no — performance was fine, and we were still figuring out what we were even building. Six months later the lag caught up with us and we refactored the whole thing. He was right. But we needed those six months to know what the engine actually had to do before we rebuilt it. That’s how we work — someone makes the call, and we fix it when we’re wrong.

7. “You’re building a custom engine on WebGPU. Why not use Unity or Unreal?”

[The “build vs. buy” question. Every founder gets a version of this: why not use the obvious existing tool?]

Because our non-negotiable requirement — instant loading in a browser tab, no download, no loading screen — is the one thing the existing tools can’t do. Unity and Unreal are built for downloadable games. They carry overhead that makes instant web access impossible. When your core constraint is something the off-the-shelf solution structurally can’t support, you build your own. Every founder faces a version of this: figure out which constraint is truly non-negotiable, and if the existing tools violate it, build.

8. “Is the AI a core architectural layer, or is it a wrapper on top? What happens to SpaceZero if the AI hype deflates tomorrow?”

[The “wrapper” test. Every AI startup gets asked this.]

AI isn’t a feature layer on top of SpaceZero — it’s the content pipeline. Without AI, we can’t generate unique items, textures, sounds, and NPC behaviors at the scale a platform needs. Traditional game studios hand-craft every asset; that’s why Minecraft has barely changed in 17 years. Our architecture assumes AI generation at every layer.

But if AI disappeared tomorrow, the core product still stands. The voxel engine runs on C++ through WebAssembly. The freedom to build any shape — not just cubes — in a browser is pure engineering. No AI required.

AI is structural for our economics and content scale, but the core fun loop doesn’t depend on it.

The Product & Market

9. “Let’s talk about the user. I download SpaceZero. What’s my first 60 seconds? What’s the ‘time to wow’?”

[Product intuition test. Builders obsess over the first-run experience.]

You don’t download SpaceZero. You get a link from your friend. You click it — no download, no loading screen. It just shows up: your friend’s build, a magnificent space, and there are people walking around doing their own thing, building something.

That first click — instant access to someone else’s 3D world — is the “time to wow.” It’s the moment you realize this isn’t a game you install. It’s the internet, but spatial.

10. “OK, building a world is cool once. Why do I come back on Tuesday? What’s Day 30 look like?”

[The hardest question for any generative product. “Cool demo” ≠ product. What’s the habit loop?]

Your world is alive. In Minecraft, you build something and it’s your save file. In SpaceZero, people visit. They leave things. Builders can sell goods. There’s economic activity happening in your space when you’re not there.

You come back on Tuesday for the same reason you check your Instagram or your Shopify dashboard — something happened while you were gone. Someone visited your build. Someone bought something. A friend built something new in their space. It’s not a game you finish; it’s a place you maintain.

11. “How is this different from Roblox, Fortnite Creative, Minecraft? There are massive incumbents in UGC gaming. Why does SpaceZero win?”

[Competitive positioning. Don’t trash incumbents — show the gap they structurally can’t fill.]

We’re not a game studio — we’re a team that sees 3D worlds as the next interface for the internet. That’s the fundamental difference.

Roblox, Fortnite, Minecraft — they’re walled gardens. You download an app, you play inside their ecosystem, and nothing you build reaches the open internet. We start as a browser game. Your build is a URL. Anyone can visit it, gamer or not.

Incumbent studios have massive technical depth, but they also have massive legacy. They can’t rebuild their content pipeline around AI without breaking everything. We started with AI as the foundation, not a bolt-on.

12. “You have 700 users. Tell me honestly — what have they taught you? What specific insight from those users changed your product?”

[They care less about the number and more about what you learned.]

The 700 spans three or four pivots, so the most honest thing is to talk about what each cohort taught us.

The Gaussian Splatting users thought it was cool for about five minutes. Then they had nothing to do. The tool users created something and left. They didn’t come back.

The pattern was clear: spectacle doesn’t retain. Utility without community doesn’t retain. What retains is a shared space where your effort matters to other people. That’s what pushed us to the voxel sandbox model: the shape freedom beyond cubes, the browser-native access, the shared persistent worlds. All of that came from watching what real users actually did and didn’t do with our earlier versions.

The Business

13. “What’s the business model? And give me the $10B path — is this actually big enough for venture?”

[Venture math test. You need a clear answer on monetization AND a credible path to massive scale.]

Platform economics: we take a small percentage of every transaction that happens in user-built spaces. Think Shopify meets Roblox: builders create spaces, visitors engage and transact, we take a modest cut. Not 30% like Apple or Roblox — more like 5-10%, because we want to maximize activity, not extract from creators.

The $10B path: Minecraft has 170 million monthly active users who build for free in a closed ecosystem. We’re giving those same builders an open platform where their work has economic value. Even a fraction of that audience generating modest transaction volume creates massive platform GMV — layer on premium creator tools and AI compute services, and you have multiple revenue streams at scale.

The market isn’t “gaming.” It’s the intersection of gaming and internet commerce. That market doesn’t have an incumbent yet.

The SPC Fit

14. “Why SPC specifically? You could raise this money elsewhere. What does this community give you that capital alone doesn’t?”

[They want to know you understand what SPC actually is — a community of -1 to 0 explorers, not just a check.]

Because I believe SPC has the longest-term vision out of every VC or accelerator I’ve ever known. I’m obsessed with a term I read on your site: “world builder,” not “problem solver.”

All these years, it’s been hard for me to articulate the “problem I’m solving” because I’m not making a SaaS that fixes a workflow. I’m trying to merge the gaming and internet industries into something that has never existed before. The standard one-pager with “problem → solution” just never felt right.

How would you describe the “problem” if you were trying to invent the graphical user interface? The use is so fundamental and so broad that it can’t fit in one sentence. When I found SPC, I felt like I finally found people who think the way I do — founders driven by genuine curiosity about fields that don’t exist yet, not by whatever market is trending this quarter.

15. “If SpaceZero doesn’t work — the thesis is wrong, the timing is off, whatever — what do you do next? Are you married to the solution or the problem?”

[Resilience and intellectual honesty test.]

I’d still be working at the intersection of games and the internet. That’s been my obsession across four companies over twelve years. Arclogos, Linco, and now SpaceZero are all expressions of the same belief.

If SpaceZero specifically doesn’t work — maybe the timing is still too early, maybe browser limitations are harder than we think — I’d still be pulling that thread. Maybe the right entry point is spatial commerce instead of a game. Maybe it’s a protocol layer. Maybe it’s something I can’t see yet.

This is my life’s work. I just need to find the right door in.

The Close

16. “Last thing. What does the world look like in 10 years if SpaceZero wins?”

The internet is not going to be flat anymore. It will have spaces.

It will be normal for you to click a link and suddenly a 3D space shows up that you can walk around in. You could do grocery shopping, explore, meet people. There will be digital cities on the internet. People will have jobs there. There will be famous must-visit spots online, just like in reality. There will be landscapes on the internet.

A flat page will be history. It will no longer be a web page — it will be a web space.

There will be new careers — 3D builders who earn a living from their creative work, just like YouTubers did for video. All the hard work gamers put into digital worlds will finally have economic meaning. The 170 million people who build in Minecraft today will build on the open internet tomorrow, where everyone can see, visit, and participate in what they’ve created.

Not through a headset. Not through a token. Through a browser.

Update: I did the interview. They asked us to demo the product live, which made sense — it’s a 3D thing, you need to see it running. The conversation was tailored to what we’re actually building, and most of it was follow-up questions, not scripted ones. It felt like a real conversation.

What surprised me was how naturally everything connected. Explaining Linco — my last startup, a spatial bookmarking tool — naturally explained why I’ve been thinking about 3D internet for years. Talking about our pivots gave me a chance to explain why those earlier versions never felt like life’s work, and why this one does. I got to lay out the vision I actually care about: making the internet three-dimensional, merging gaming and the internet into one industry, creating a ChatGPT moment for the metaverse.

The partners were genuinely friendly, curious, and engaged. The focus was clear: can you actually build, is there something real running in public, and is your dedication to this problem legit. If you’re a founder considering SPC, I’d highly encourage you to apply. The vibe is exactly what you’d hope for.

The best way to prepare for a high-stakes conversation is to have it before you have it.

Q. Please introduce yourself.

I’m David, and at the time of this interview, I was building Linco, a social bookmarking platform. You can share bookmarks on Linco and communicate about them with people who follow you. You can discover a lot of useful links through Linco.

Q. How did you start Linco?

The reason I started Linco—I’ve always wondered, “Where do those people get their information?” I’ve always been interested in information gaps, so naturally I became curious about the sources of information. Linco is trying to solve this information gap through the concept of social bookmarking.

Q. For those who’ve been following Disquiet for a while, most probably know you. Who was David before Disquiet?

I grew up going to church, so I thought a lot about death from a young age. Learning about Korea’s painful history of being dominated by China and Japan made me interested in overwhelming power and military strength—something that could stand against death.

That’s why I wanted to work at defense companies like Boeing or Lockheed Martin. When I was in middle school, hearing the civil defense sirens during drills while sitting in the classroom made me feel alive. What if a war broke out and the civilization or society I’ve lived in dies? And if I die? Would everything I’ve done until now become meaningless? These were the thoughts I had. So what’s truly important? I came to believe that you must protect yourself with overwhelming power. I think this forms the foundation of society, allowing our civilization to be preserved and developed, and within that, individuals including myself can live.

Q. What did you do to understand that overwhelming power?

So I went to study in America. To get into the defense companies I wanted, I tried to get into MIT. For two and a half years of high school, I lived an incredibly intense life. I was selected as a scholarship recipient two years in a row for a program that only takes four students. I’d study ahead during breaks after talking with teachers and skip ahead by taking exams early. I studied like crazy. I competed in academic competitions representing my school. I played sports diligently too.

But even though my school life seemed perfect, there was a subject I neglected. I didn’t do the break homework for that subject, and when the semester started, my score began at zero. This cracked my perfectionist tendencies, and I suddenly lost motivation and hit a slump. Homesickness came at the same time. I couldn’t overcome it and ended up dropping out. I feel like I died once and was reborn then. I realized that if I lived intensely and then faced my final moment, it could feel this empty. Influenced by my father who was a businessman, I decided to pursue entrepreneurship—a vague dream since childhood—and live without regrets.

Q. Did you return to Korea after that?

Yes, I came back to Korea and while wondering what to do, I went to Park Com Academy in Seocho. I had decided to learn programming to start a business. It was a famous academy in the 80s and 90s, though by the time I went it was nearly going out of business. But what’s unique is that you learn coding without computers (hand coding). Every time I went, the whiteboards on the walls were completely filled. I learned almost all the fundamentals of computer science there—data structures, algorithms, the classics. Park Com’s philosophy was “don’t code right away, organize with a pen and actually understand.” Even now when I’m stuck while developing, I immediately write in a notebook. Miraculously, it gets solved within minutes.

Q. What did you do after Park Com Academy?

After that, I started my first startup, a garbage collection service called “Albuja.” This was about 7-8 years ago. I started with two people I met at Park Com, and we worked on it for two and a half years. We all lived together in my rented room while building it. Very startup-like, you know? But we developed the product in a way completely opposite to Lean. We weren’t agile at all—obsessed over design, launched super late. The result? Oil prices crashed at the time, making the garbage collection business model run at a loss, and we had to shut down. The team disbanded after that.

Q. You went through a lot of trial and error. What challenges did you take on after that?

After that, I started a web agency by myself. A smart junior I met at the academy had just finished military service, so I brought him on as a team member. I even got him a room in Seoul. I started the web agency because all you need is a laptop. I made WordPress websites that clients could maintain themselves. I did this for about 3-4 years.

Looking back now, making WordPress websites wasn’t a great business. Because clients found even WordPress difficult. But the real problem came from people. At first, we could operate efficiently with a small team of 4-5 people. But as we tried to expand the business, the team culture became authoritarian, we hired a lot to look bigger, and we stretched ourselves to rent a 13-person room at WeWork’s first location. I regret those choices now. All the employees we hired back then were new graduates too. It made me feel more responsible.

From Park Com Academy to the web agency, and to Linco which I haven’t talked about yet—that’s 10 years of experience, and that’s how my 20s passed.

Q. What did you learn, and what mindset did you develop?

I resolved not to make the same mistakes. And I could keep talking about typical startup insights—not focusing on customers or the essence of the product, how team building is really important, not being agile, etc. Looking back, I was excessively optimistic. Not positive—”optimistic.” I believed I could do anything, that everything would just work out. I was severely lacking in strategic thinking and the prudence needed for important decisions. I had no sense of reality. I spent my resources too easily. Through these lessons, I tried to solve new problems, and that’s how I started Linco.

Q. Can you tell us more about Linco, what you’re currently building?

I want to talk about search—the way people access vast knowledge. There are two types of search. Searching when you know exactly what you’re looking for (search with predetermined answers), and searching when you don’t know exactly what you want. Linco is about the second type. We focus on serendipity—discovering knowledge that’s important to you but you didn’t know existed. I think this is one way to reduce the information gap I mentioned earlier.

I like visual things. Especially things you can see at a glance. Even when playing games, I position myself where I can see the scenery at once. And I believe everyone is smart. It’s not about individual intelligence differences—I think complex knowledge can be easily understood depending on what interface delivers it. Jesus taught through parables, and Einstein said if you can’t explain it to a child, you don’t understand it yourself. So I’ve always thought about how to deliver knowledge visually, in a way that’s easy to grasp at a glance. That’s why the internet often felt frustrating to me. It feels chaotic, like flailing around in space. I thought we needed a map-like interface to see the structure of the internet at a glance.

However, there’s a gap between the current Linco and what I ultimately want Linco to be. Before Linco, there was a project called Slingshot. It was like a solar system with the sun at the center. For example, if the sun is Instagram, the planets around it are Instagram profile pages. The planet with the most followers is closest to the sun, red planets are newly created profiles, and bigger planets have more profile page views. I also wanted to show people moving between pages as movement between planets. Slingshot was a project to visualize internet information like this. But when I talked about these ideas, people said it was too niche. So I decided to first build the current Linco, something more realistically achievable that people could actually use.

The far right shows an early version of Linco. Back then, I developed it with heavy emphasis on freedom, like a whiteboard. Making things bigger or smaller. It was a web version of a desktop!

Q. Hearing this behind-the-scenes story makes Linco feel even more compelling. What are Linco’s plans going forward?

Let me put it in relatable terms—I want to know where the information gap between me and Doeon comes from. When Doeon occasionally shares links, I always wonder, “Where did they get this?” Through Linco, I want to reduce the gap in the ability to obtain information, the gap in algorithms.

Jonghan: It would be great if more people on Linco would pay it forward. People who provide information.

Exactly. I’m so grateful that there are many such people on Disquiet. And to add, instead of creating new content, sharing useful links takes much less effort. Content providers can create content relatively easily, and it’s sufficiently helpful for those receiving it. So I hope many makers will share more.

Jonghan: This is how I understand Linco. First, it’s fun to see other people’s bookmarks. You can see what someone is thinking about, and you can also show what you’re interested in. I actually think of it as a networking tool. Like digital fashion.

Doeon: I want to use Linco as a means of information delivery. If I read a good article and my own thoughts have branched off somewhat... there’s already enough value in sharing. Writing it as a new article is another level of effort entirely. I think Linco can make it much easier to deliver information.

Over the next three months, Linco has this goal: to realize “Come for the tool, Stay for the network.” I’ve been asked a lot why anyone should upload bookmarks to Linco, and I want to answer that question by creating network effects. I’ve been building Linco for 30 months now, with development being almost 90% of my focus. Now, as I learned at Maker Town, I’m going to increase my operator role—community managing, onboarding—and seriously pursue GTM. At the same time, I want to enhance the tool’s functionality. I want to strengthen the ability to share bookmarks smoothly without wasting productivity.

The short-term goal is to increase Linco’s creators by 10x, and ultimately, Linco will become a new version of the internet.

This interview was originally published in Korean on Disquiet in 2023. Translated and adapted for English readers.

AI took sixty-plus years to reach its boiling point—the moment it became generally accepted by the masses. We called it the ChatGPT moment.

The metaverse is on the same trajectory. And I think we’re closer than most people realize.

But it won’t come from where everyone’s looking.

The Missing Merge

I’ve been building web applications and SaaS products for over a decade, with the last several years focused on the 3D internet. Long enough to watch every metaverse wave crash and burn.

Through the first VR cycle, the NFT hype, and a mountain of pitch decks, the same pattern keeps showing up: teams build a game that doesn’t act like the internet, or they build a website that doesn’t feel like a game.

Gaming companies build incredible worlds, but they’re walled gardens. You download an app, enter their universe, play by their rules. Rich, but isolated.

The internet is the opposite. Accessible by design—built on openness, connection, and utility. But the internet has never figured out how to be fun the way games are fun. And it’s never cracked spatial experiences.

Gaming has fun and 3D.

The internet has accessibility and utility.

Nobody has all four.

The metaverse doesn’t arrive as a VR headset, a token, or a marketplace. It arrives when the game sector and the internet sector truly converge.

The Four Pillars

Fun matters first. If it’s not fun, no one stays. This sounds obvious, but it’s the first thing sacrificed when technologists chase a new format.

3D spatial context isn’t a gimmick—it’s a user interface. We evolved in three dimensions. Navigation and recall improve when information sits in a place rather than a list. The value isn’t photorealism; it’s reducing cognitive load.

Accessibility is the internet’s superpower. Click a link and you’re there. No downloads. Accounts optional. Sessions start fast. If people can’t enter your world in one step, you’ve built a product, not a protocol.

Practical use cases make it stick. Chat, events, education, shopping, co-creation. The internet grew because it solved daily tasks, not because HTML was cool. The metaverse only works if being there feels better than scrolling a 2D grid.

Miss any one of these and you have a niche, not a platform.

The Graveyard of Almost

Think about every metaverse attempt of the past decade through this lens.

Meta’s Horizon had 3D and VR, but struggled on accessibility. You needed hardware, setup, patience. Region locks. Account requirements. It felt less like the world wide web and more like a corporate intranet.

Internal reports surfaced that employees didn’t know how to log in. If the team building the world doesn’t live in it, the product isn’t ready.

The Sandbox leaned into Web3 economies but missed the definition of its own name. It didn’t feel like a true sandbox. People called them ghost towns not just because no one was there, but because there was nothing to do.

In Minecraft, you have total freedom: block, dig, pile up. It’s Digital Lego. The Sandbox felt like a rigid level editor. You couldn’t truly reshape the terrain. People called them ghost towns not just because no one was there, but because there was nothing to do.

Minecraft is the gold standard for fun. 3D, spatial, true freedom. But it’s a walled garden behind an install wall. It’s not the internet.

You can’t tweet a link to a specific Minecraft block and have a friend standing next to you in ten seconds.

Each attempt grabbed one or two pieces. None understood you need the full combination—or you’ve built nothing.

The Loneliest Library

The Uncensored Library in Minecraft is one of the most powerful examples of the metaverse idea—and its fatal flaw.

It’s a digital cathedral to information. Inside, books censored by regimes around the world are preserved in 3D space. You can click on them and read banned articles. Free speech, preserved in a spatial archive.

Here’s the user journey I actually had:

I went to their website, heart rate up. This is exactly what spatial media is for. I found a big download button. It downloaded a 173 MB map file.

Not the game. A map file.

I said out loud, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

To use it, I needed to own Minecraft, install it, update it, and remember the arcane flow to import a custom map save. I’ve done that before. Most people—teachers, journalists, students—have not.

Let’s say you survive the setup. You load in. You enter this magnificent library. Sunlight streams through the glass. Marble everywhere. You walk forward, expecting the hum of a city...

And you’re completely alone.

No footsteps. No chat. No presence. Just you and a giant file.

It’s not a digital city if there are no people. The install wall turned a living museum into a static artifact. The lack of linking turned a civic square into a private gallery.

This is what’s at stake. Not just games. Not just entertainment. The ability to preserve and share human knowledge in spatial form—blocked by friction.

Why Now

Until recently, what I’m describing was a pipe dream. Today, it’s production-ready.

Remember RuneScape? Two decades ago, it was massive because it ran in the browser. Then hardware advanced. Native games leveraged GPUs that browsers couldn’t touch. Browser gaming died because it couldn’t keep up.

That gap has closed.

WebGPU gives browsers direct access to the GPU. Not the limited bridge that WebGL provided—actual low-level access to the graphics card. The browser can finally offload heavy rendering while the CPU handles game logic.

This matters for one specific reason: sandbox gameplay requires serious computation. Minecraft works because you can dig, pile, and reshape the world. That’s expensive. WebGPU’s compute shaders let us run massive voxel operations and physics directly on the GPU. We can finally build Digital Lego experiences that run in a browser tab.

WebAssembly handles the rest. C++ and Rust now run in the browser at near-native speed. Physics engines like Rapier work. Chrome led, Firefox followed, Safari recently added support.

The last decade’s bottleneck wasn’t bandwidth. It was compute and a fragmented ecosystem. Both problems are solved.

But here’s what matters: the browser is the starting point, not the destination. True convergence means meeting people wherever they are—console, mobile, PC, browser. The internet doesn’t care what device you’re on. Neither should the metaverse.

The install wall is now optional across all of them.

The Proof

Network effects can’t compound behind an install wall. We’ve been in a “Metaverse Winter,” just like AI was for sixty years. The tipping point comes when 3D worlds become links.

We don’t need more walled gardens. We need to expand the addressable audience from 300 million core gamers with high-end rigs to 5.5 billion internet users with a browser.

I didn’t want to write another think piece about what could be done. I wanted to build the proof.

SpaceZero is the browser-native world. No downloads. No install walls. You click a link and you’re inside a physics-enabled environment with other people. One click, real presence.

We’re in alpha. Early prototype, but live—and it proves the friction is gone.

Try the alpha: https://0.space

ZeroCap is the bridge. A companion app that turns your phone into a creation engine. Snap a photo, and it becomes a physics-ready 3D object you can drop directly into the browser world.

Get the app: https://apps.apple.com/us/app/zerocap/id6757377374

The install wall is optional. The browser is ready. The convergence is starting.

When games finally become internet, we won’t be debating whether the metaverse is real anymore.

We’ll just be living in it.

I’ve been building for the open web for over a decade. If you’re thinking about where it converges with games and spatial computing, I’d love to hear your take.