VibeCoding Is the New Dropshipping

Vibe Coding Is the New Dropshipping

We need to talk about vibecoding; the latest get-rich-quick scheme infecting the internet.

It’s not about building tools. It’s about wrapping ChatGPT in a shiny UI, slapping a “launch” tweet on it, and hoping someone forgets to cancel their free trial. It’s the new hustle: no depth, just vibes.

But this isn’t a one-off trend. It’s the natural evolution of a mindset that’s been here for years — do less, sell early, and scale the illusion.

Sound familiar?

It should. Because vibecoding is just dropshipping with code.

The Get-Rich Gimmick Playbook

This isn’t new.

The internet’s been home to the “do less, earn more” blueprint for years. Dropshipping was just the loudest version — source a product from Alibaba, throw together a Shopify storefront, run some TikTok ads, and pray the customer doesn’t dig too deep.

Then came the clones:

• YouTube automation (hire a cheap voiceover, stock B-roll, rake in ad money)
• Print-on-demand schemes (AI designs + fake urgency = fast sales)
• Course flipping (buy a $49 course, repackage it as your own)
• Plug-and-play “agencies” (white-label services with a Canva logo and a cold email script)

All of it built on one principle: deliver the minimum, dress it up, and hope scale covers the cracks.

And now, that same mentality has moved into software.

Same energy. Just cleaner branding.

Vibecoding 101: How to Build Nothing and Sell It Anyway

Not every vibecode gimmick looks the same, but they all operate on the same core formula: give the illusion of value, hide the limitations, and monetize the moment you have their attention.

Some of them are browser-based tools — you land on a sleek site, get two or three free uses, then immediately hit a credit wall.

Want more? Buy tokens. Monthly plan. Lifetime access.

Whatever excuse they can come up with to keep you locked into a transaction loop for a tool that probably took two prompts and a template to build.

Others show up as mobile apps, pretending to offer hyper-personalized solutions.

You download it, the onboarding walks you through your pain points like it understands you, then the second you’re about to use the core feature, boom. Paywall. Trial activation. Auto-renew.

They’re betting on friction fatigue: that you’ll just give in and forget to cancel.

Then there’s the desktop software layer — apps you install that promise niche utility (productivity boosts, coding tools, writing assistants) but turn out to be glorified interfaces for a single AI call. No integration. No depth.

Just a branded ChatGPT prompt behind an “Export to PDF” button.

What they all share is a commitment to surface-level polish and a complete disinterest in actual function.

They don’t need to work well. They just need to feel like they might — right up until you pay.

These aren’t tools.

They’re dressed-up demos — with just enough AI frosting to pass as software.

It’s Dropshipping with Code

The resemblance isn’t coincidental — it’s identical.

Where dropshippers used cheap gadgets from Alibaba, Vibecoders are using GPT wrappers and open-source templates.

Where dropshippers built fake Shopify stores with fake urgency, vibecoders build fake SaaS dashboards with fake personalization.

Where dropshippers used stolen ad scripts and UGC (user-generated content), vibecoders rely on AI-generated promo videos, stock avatars, and voiceovers that say nothing but sound like something.

Both rely on minimal effort, maximum illusion.

Both are structured around speed over substance.

And both collapse the moment you look beneath the surface.

These aren’t businesses. They’re vending machines for low-grade digital bait.

And the fact that people are starting to see it, for what it is, doesn’t mean it’s slowing down. It means the playbook is just getting more polished.

The dropshippers figured out how to package crap with clean branding.

Vibecoders are just running the same grift in a different arena.

The Real Problem: MVP Culture Is Rotting the Internet

Look — people gotta eat.

You want to build fast, ship fast, and test the market? Fine. Respect the hustle.

But what we’re seeing now isn’t lean product development.

It’s an entire generation of digital creators churning out deliberately incomplete ideas, disguising laziness as agility, and hoping nobody notices until the Stripe notifications clear.

And at the center of it all is this one poisoned acronym: MVP — Minimum Viable Product.

What started as a tool for iterating quickly has turned into a philosophy of barely trying.

Make the bare minimum. Wrap it in noise. Launch. Repeat.

And if it doesn’t work? Who cares. Move on to the next idea tomorrow.

This mindset, when scaled across platforms, industries, and ecosystems, has consequences.

It trains users to expect less. It floods marketplaces with broken tools. It rewards whoever can shout the loudest, not build the best.

Even the giants are doing it.

As we covered in From Innovation to Imitation: Apple and Google’s Desperation Is Starting to Show, Apple is launching AI-ready phones with no AI in sight.

Google’s flooding its products with Gemini — an LLM that, at launch, confidently got basic facts wrong and summarized troll articles like gospel.

So what kind of example does that set for the rest of the ecosystem?

We’re not building for people anymore. We’re building for the screenshot.

For the launch tweet. For the demo video with lo-fi beats and fake testimonials.

On the surface, it all looks productive.

Underneath? It’s a wasteland of half-baked, abandoned, gimmicky trash.

And the worst part? It still works.

Because for every person who sees through it, there’s someone else ready to buy the hype — or worse, copy it.

Build something barely functional, wrap it well, slap the revenue in your Twitter bio, and move on to the next one.

Not because it’s meaningful. But because it sells.

We’re rewarding polish over progress.We’re normalizing mediocrity.

And little by little, good products start to feel like overkill.

So yeah — vibecoding might be the latest trend.

But it’s not the disease.

It’s just another symptom of an internet that’s forgotten how to build something real.