“You are a failure!” “You should get a job and a girlfriend!” “You are addicted to these games. Go get some fresh air!”
And so on.
That what I have been told basically from puberty onwards. Well, up until I started my company. I had tried the streaming thing, I had a following, made a bunch of cash but I felt like if I was a drone. I had to perform for an audience. The audience was controlling me, remotely, via the interactions we had.
I was stressed, I wanted out, playing for fun is one thing but playing to have your audience have fun watching you it’s a job. I had lost interest and the numbers showed that clearly as well.
A friend of mine had a drones channel, acrobatic stuff. He never showed his face. Not because of his persistent acne but because the drones did all the work, he just had to pilot them and he was having a blast doing it.
I was jealous so I started getting into drones as well. I could code and I was more familiar with my gaming controller so I developed a custom interface. With that I could pilot my drone like if I was playing a game. From there I wanted to control multiple drones, and make them do choreographies. I added some LEDs to them and I started to do some shows for people. It was fun but not crazy fun.
These drones could pull some weight, especially if I made more drones move together, tether them to the payload and then control them via the software I had developed.
For fun and giggles I had tried to move my car from my driveway to the garden. I recorded the whole thing, uploaded it and. Damn. It went viral. My small fleet of drones had lifted my car, made it waltz in the air and then parked it perfectly next to me. I also starred in the video, I was on a sunbed with my laptop and when the car landed next to me, one of the drones entered one of the car windows and brought me a can of beer that was inside the car.
It was silly but people liked it.
I didn’t realise what I had developed. I could transport stuff, pretty cheaply to very hard to reach destinations.
Having to deliver a Cybertruck to this billionnaire’s private island was one of my first contracts. Of course I asked if I could stream the whole thing and we agreed on not showing anything that could harm my client’s privacy.
So, that I did.
Few months later, I delivered my dad his dream car. A 1968 Ford Torino GT. Attached to the key, acting as a keychain, a Ledger Nano. In it, I put their retirement fund. They’ll never have to worry about money and they can finally enjoy themself a little bit.
On top of that, I hugged my parents and I thank them for their patience. Not for having believed in me, because they didn’t, but probably that was what I needed to achieve what I had achieved.
— “You are a failure!” “You should get a job and a girlfriend!” “You are addicted to these games. Go get some fresh air!”
And so on.
That’s what I had been told, basically from puberty onwards. Well, up until I started my first company. I had tried the streaming thing; I had a following and made a bunch of cash, but I felt like a drone. I had to perform for an audience that was remotely controlling me through our interactions.
I was stressed and wanted out. Playing for fun is one thing, but playing so your audience can have fun watching you is a job. My interest waned, and the declining numbers clearly showed it.
A friend of mine ran a channel for drone acrobatics. He never showed his face—not because of his persistent acne but because the drones did all the work; he just had to pilot them, and he was having a blast doing it.
Jealous, I started getting into drones as well. With my coding skills and familiarity with my gaming controller, I developed a custom interface. This allowed me to pilot my drone as if I were playing a game. I wanted to control multiple drones and make them perform choreographies. After adding some LEDs to them, I started doing shows for people. It was fun, though not mind-blowingly so.
These drones could pull some weight, especially if I had multiple drones moving together, tethered to the payload, and controlled via the software I had developed.
Just for fun, I tried moving my car from the driveway to the garden. I recorded the entire process, uploaded it, and—damn—it went viral. My small fleet of drones had lifted my car, made it waltz in the air, and then parked it perfectly next to me. In the video, I starred, lounging on a sunbed with my laptop as one of the drones entered a car window and brought me a can of beer from inside the car.
It was silly, but people loved it.
I hadn't realized what I had developed. I could transport stuff, quite cheaply, to very hard-to-reach destinations. Of course, not for long distances but I was solving a problem apparently.
Having to deliver a Cybertruck to a billionaire’s private island was one of my first contracts. Of course, I asked if I could stream the whole thing, and we agreed on not showing anything that could harm my client's privacy.
So, I did. Went viral beyond my most optimistic predictions and that’s how I had to scale up my team all around the world essentially. I had some VCs reaching out but I never took a cent. Bootstrapped, solo founder, giving equity to the team as it should be. Innovating and trying to keep everyone happy.
A few months later, I delivered my dad his dream car, a 1968 Ford Torino GT. Attached to the key, acting as a keychain, was a Ledger Nano. In it, a retirement fund. My parents will never have to worry about money again and can finally enjoy themselves a bit.
On top of that, I hugged them both and thanked them for their patience—not for having believed in me, because they didn’t. But probably because their scepticism and criticism was what I needed to achieve what I had achieved. I knew they were coming from a good place. I was just having fun, I only had to figure out a way to get paid for have fun.