I didn't expect to fall in love with a company.
Not with a person. Not with some unicorn pipe dream. But with a way of building.
It started as an itch—the kind you can't name but can't ignore. A question that wouldn't shut up. Then one day, it clicked. And when it did, I called it WCH Studios.
On the surface, we're an AI Product Lab. We build and launch companies.
But really? We're a rebellion disguised as a studio.
Here's what's broken: Too many products. Too little soul. Too much funding. Too little friction. Too many slides. Too few stories.
Most companies ship technically solid tools wrapped in generic marketing, then wonder why nobody cares. But caring isn't logical. It's emotional. And that's the new moat—emotion at the core of engineering.
We believe the future belongs to tiny, fast, obsessed teams. Design that makes you feel something. Stories that spread before you launch. Products that adapt to humans—not the other way around.
The most important variable? Curiosity, not credentials.
So we're building AI tools that feel magical. Experimental projects that break your brain. Micro-startups that solve weird, specific, sometimes "stupid" problems.
But we're also asking the big questions. What does the future of commerce interfaces look like? How should dating actually work? The kind of experiments that might seem too ambitious until they're suddenly obvious.
Yeah, some might look pointless at first. That's kind of the point.
The greatest inventions started as inside jokes, broken hacks, or accidents no one took seriously—until they changed everything. So we're giving ourselves permission to throw things at the wall. Most won't stick. Some will. Every one teaches us something.
We don't care about Harvard. We care about high agency.
We won't ask for resumes. We'll ask: What's your energy like? What have you tried building? What's itching at you right now?
WCH isn't a program. It's a magnet for people who live with one foot in the future and the other on the gas.
We're building a private community—not for elitism, but to protect the energy. No equity grabs. No $5K application fee. Just curiosity, clarity, and a simple filter: Why are you here?
So yeah, I fell in love. Not with a business plan. Not with a niche. But with the act of making things that feel alive—and doing it with other weird, brilliant humans who are allergic to mediocrity.
This is the work I've always wanted to do. And I finally get to do it. Full force.
If this feels like something you've been waiting to find—let's build.