Why Startups Don’t Need to Be Cutting Edge to Spark a Movement

In the startup world, “innovation” has become a race to the edge. Everyone is sprinting toward the next big thing: AI models no one understands, blockchains no one uses, hardware no one needs yet. Founders obsess over being first—first to launch, first to scale, first to hype.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth: the most enduring ideas aren’t always born from the frontier. Many of them come from the margins—from unexpected corners, built on tools we’ve long taken for granted.

Some of the most powerful products in history didn’t break technological ground—they bent the rules of imagination. They were built on what already existed, just used in ways no one had considered. I believe that’s where real innovation happens. Not in chasing complexity, but in embracing simplicity with a twist.

That’s the spirit behind jpeg.fun, a mobile app that turns everyday photos into speculative collectibles. It’s built not on bleeding-edge tech, but on the opposite: JPEGs, smartphones, and a simple blockchain layer. Nothing new. Just something new done with it.

The Philosophy of Withered Tech

The inspiration comes from Gunpei Yokoi, the legendary Nintendo engineer who coined the phrase “Lateral Thinking with Withered Technology.” His philosophy was simple: don’t chase the latest hardware. Use mature, stable, well-understood tech—and apply creativity instead of brute force.

In the late ’80s, while competitors pushed flashy color screens and more power-hungry consoles, Yokoi gave the world the Game Boy—a chunky little device with monochrome graphics and a decade-old LCD. It wasn’t cutting edge. It wasn’t even impressive. But it was fun, affordable, and portable. And it sold over 118 million units.

That’s not just clever engineering. That’s deep design thinking. And it’s a philosophy more founders need to revisit today.

Modern startups often confuse complexity with value. But history suggests that constraint breeds clarity—and that creativity thrives not at the frontier of technology, but at the edge of what’s familiar.

JPEGs and Speculation: A Strange but Honest Pair

JPEGs are the most common, least exciting image format on the planet. Born in 1992, they’re outdated, compressed, and everywhere. Your phone camera uses them. Your memes are saved in them. They are the digital dust of the internet.

But they’re also perfect. They’re readable by every device. They’re small. They’re fast. And they carry the weight of billions of moments, both meaningless and profound.

So what happens when you take a format everyone ignores—and add the ability to speculate on it?

That’s the core idea behind jpeg.fun: 1 photo = 1 token. Snap something. Mint it. Trade it. Suddenly, your dog yawning or your spilled coffee becomes a marketable moment.

It sounds absurd. But absurdity is often just early truth in disguise. And speculation, for all its baggage, is one of the most human things we do.

Speculation Is a Form of Play

We don’t speculate because we’re irrational. We speculate because we care. We want to believe something might become valuable—because we see meaning in it before others do.

This is as old as time. David Hume saw speculation as a consequence of imagination applied to probability. Keynes called markets a “beauty contest,” where success wasn’t about picking what you liked, but what others would soon like. The game, in other words, is social. It’s narrative. It’s deeply human.

And yet, in crypto, speculation is often reduced to its most toxic form—pump and dump cycles, shallow hype, vaporware. But that’s not the whole story.

Look at memecoins. Look at platforms like Pump.fun or Friend.tech. These aren't financial tools. They're narrative engines. They let users bet on a story—a community, a joke, a moment in time. They are the stock market of vibes. And that’s not a bug. It’s the product.

Jpeg.fun simply brings that same spirit to visual culture. It’s not about selling “art” or pretending your photo is worth thousands. It’s about asking: What if this random moment becomes a collective in-joke? A viral token? A snapshot of internet history?

It’s not speculation as exploitation. It’s speculation as play.

Web2 Gave Us Creation. Web3 Can Give Us Ownership.

Social media taught us how to create—but not how to own. You can go viral on TikTok and make nothing. You can post a photo that’s seen by millions and still feel disposable.

Web2 gave us the means to publish, but not the tools to hold value.

Web3 promised to change that. But somewhere along the way, it got lost in complexity. Between DAOs, DeFi, and wallets, the average person tuned out.

Jpeg.fun tries to meet them halfway. It doesn’t demand technical knowledge or ideological buy-in. It’s not trying to onboard the world into a new paradigm. It’s just saying: “Here’s a camera. Take a photo. Now see if the internet thinks it’s worth something.”

It’s fast, fun, and frictionless. But beneath that simplicity is a radical shift: you don’t just create anymore—you participate. You take a chance. You play a role in value creation.

And best of all, it’s built on tools we already have.

You Don’t Need to Be First—Just Right

The startup graveyard is filled with brilliant technology and terrible timing. Products that were technically impressive but emotionally hollow. Founders who raced toward the edge and forgot to bring anyone with them.

What people want—what they always want—is meaning. Connection. Fun. A little risk. A little ownership. Sometimes, you don’t need to invent something new to give them that. You just need to remix what they already love.

Jpeg.fun isn’t claiming to be revolutionary. It’s a modest app. Built on old formats. Using known tech. But it’s designed with a clear idea: Speculation can be artful. Ownership can be joyful. Simplicity can be profound.

The best products don’t overreach. They resonate.

Final Thought: The Discipline of Simplicity

I’ve built startups that failed because I thought innovation meant doing more. Adding features. Chasing trends. Being “cutting edge.”

What I’ve learned—through loss, reflection, and a few lucky wins—is that restraint is often the better teacher. Simplicity is a discipline. And old tools, used well, are more powerful than new ones used poorly.

Jpeg.fun is a bet. Not just on photos or crypto or trends—but on a different kind of startup philosophy. One rooted in creativity over complexity. Stories over specs. Play over performance.

Will it work? I hope so. We’re starting small. Listening hard. Iterating fast. And if it flops, I’ll learn. But if it flies, it’ll be because we didn’t try to reinvent the world.

We just looked at it from a slightly different angle.