Man, we live in strange times, don’t we? Times that feel almost obsessively nostalgic. It’s as if everything amazing in music, film, and art came to a halt in the '90s, and nothing as groundbreaking has come around since.

I grew up in the '90s, and yeah, it really was incredible. We had computers, sure, but no internet yet to distract us endlessly. You’d still go over to your friends' houses to play games. We’d shoot hoops, blasting grunge from a boombox with fresh batteries on the court. It was raw, it was imperfect, and it was awesome. But let’s be real—Stranger Things is not Back to the Future, and pixel art today feels like a sanitized echo of the raw creativity that was poured into Commodore or Atari designs back then.

And now we have Web3, this incredible platform that promises a new level of freedom for creators. So why does so much of what I see feel... safe? Predictable? Polished to the point of being soulless? Where’s the edge? Where’s the surprise?

Web3 should be the place where creators tear down the walls and build something entirely new, without asking for permission. We have the tools to make art, music, and stories that are collaborative, decentralized, and boundary-breaking. So why are we stuck recycling the same nostalgia instead of using it as fuel to ignite something fresh?

Let’s talk about that freedom—how do we, as creators, take back the grit and soul of those days and channel it into Web3? How do we make it the playground for risky, wild, and unforgettable art?