When Hacktoberfest Became README-fest - I did this

The October of Open Source 🎃

October is a magical month for developers. While most people think it as just a normal month transition from summer to winter, we developers have our own tradition, Hacktoberfest. It’s that time of year when GitHub notifications blow up, Discord servers buzz with collaboration, and developers from every corner of the internet collectively shout,

“Hey, let’s contribute to open source!”

Hacktoberfest, started by DigitalOcean in 2014, was a simple yet brilliant idea: encourage developers to contribute to open source, reward them with limited-edition swag, and spread the joy of collaboration. It lowered the barrier for beginners so suddenly, even your first small PR (Pull Request) felt like a ticket to the world of real-world software.

It wasn’t just about code; it was about community. People made friends, joined projects, fixed typos, improved docs, and sometimes even built features that millions now use. For many developers, Hacktoberfest was their gateway drug into open source.

But like all things on the internet, what starts wholesome… eventually mutates into chaos.

Open Source: The Internet’s Most Beautiful Mess

To anyone outside the dev world, “open source” sounds like a technical term. But for us, it’s much more than that. it’s a philosophy. It’s about sharing knowledge, collaboration without boundaries, and believing that software gets better when everyone can help shape it.

I still remember my first real open source contribution. It was at Formbricks as a part of combined initiative that was oss.gg I stepped into the world by just making a small change adding a Last Used indicator to the login page.

But as we know every coin has two faces open source is no exception to that, the noble idea of coming together and helping build good software for people collided with internet culture’s favorite game: the numbers game (it ruins everything).

The Problem: When “Open Source” Turned Into “Open Spam”

Let’s be honest — the moment a reward system exists, people will find a shortcut to just abuse it and get the reward no matter the outcome.

As Hacktoberfest grew, so did YouTube tutorials titled “How to Win Hacktoberfest FAST!” New devs, excited to participate (and maybe get a free t-shirt), started following “guides” that basically said:

“Just find any repo, fix a typo, and submit four PRs.”

And thus began the era of the README Pull Request Apocalypse.

Repos everywhere were getting flooded with contributions like:

• “Fixed a small grammar mistake.”
• “Added full stop at the end.”
• “Updated README title from H1 to H2.”
• “Added emojis for ✨aesthetic✨.”

Some poeple (yes people not devs) just be like I will add my name to the readme for what reason god knows but they will do.

Open source maintainers were drowning in meaningless PRs. Some people were even creating repos just to spam each other with fake PRs. Github like introduced a feature to like limit new users from contribution which can be turned off every major framework or library has that turned on, It became a game changed from who can get do meaningful help to who could get four green squares the fastest.

Now, don’t get me wrong — I don’t blame anyone. For many, it wasn’t malice; it was desperation to belong. Beginners wanted to see their name in the contributors list. They wanted proof they were “part of open source.”

But in chasing that feeling, Hacktoberfest started losing what made it beautiful — genuine collaboration.

My Pun-In-Code Response: Enter ReadmeHub

I could’ve written a tweet thread complaining about it. Or made a meme. But instead, I thought — why not turn the whole situation into a joke that actually works as an app?

That’s how ReadmeHub was born — a parody platform for “open source contributors” who just can’t resist updating README files.

It’s like GitHub’s unserious cousin — built purely for fun and satire. You log in, type your username, and you’re now a “contributor.”

The app has a variety of repositories to contribute to:

• cool-project – “The coolest project you’ll ever see (probably not)”
• todo-app-9000 – “Yet another todo app that will definitely change your life”
• useless-project – “A project so useless, it’s actually useful”

You can contribute to them in following ways:

• Fixing Typos
• Adding Emojis (AI thinks it makes a repo look professional)
• Adding Quotes randomly
• Vibe edit the readme using AI ofcourse

Every “contribution” you make earns you badges like:

• 🏆 Fixed 10 Typos – Grammar police salute you!
• 🚀 Added 500 Emojis – Houston, we have a contribution!
• ☕ Coffee-Fueled Coder – 2 a.m. commits, fueled by caffeine and chaos.
• 🐦 Early Bird – You were here before it was cool.

And the best part? You can generate a shareable image — a fake contribution card to flex on your developer friends.

Because sometimes, instead of fighting absurdity… it’s more fun to join in and make it funnier.

👉 Try it here: https://readmehub.divyanshulohani.xyz/

The Hidden Message Beneath the Joke 💭

ReadmeHub isn’t just a meme project (okay, maybe 90% meme, 10% message). But it also says something about developer culture today.

The world of programming is increasingly gamified — GitHub streaks, LeetCode badges, AI-assisted commits, contribution graphs. Sometimes, we forget that code is supposed to solve problems, not just earn points.

ReadmeHub pokes fun at that obsession with metrics. It’s satire for anyone who has ever stared at their GitHub profile thinking,

“I need more green squares.”

or

"I need to have that perfect looking github graph"

It’s a reminder that your value as a developer isn’t measured in PR counts or stars. It’s measured by curiosity, learning, and the problems you solve — even if they’re small.

Ironically, by making a fake-contribution app, I ended up having deeper conversations with developers about real open-source contribution. Sometimes humor opens doors that serious rants can’t.

The Irony of It All

The funniest (and maybe saddest) realization? A parody app about fake contributions probably got more engagement than many genuine open-source repos do in a month.

But that’s also what makes developer culture fascinating — we love building weird things, just because we can.

Every viral project starts with a mix of humor and curiosity. Whether it’s a useless API that returns random cat facts, or a website that tells you “how many coffees you’ve coded today,” — it’s all part of the same creative chaos that fuels open source.

ReadmeHub fits right into that lineage — silly, smart, and just self-aware enough to make people smile.

Conclusion: What Hacktoberfest Still Means

At its core, Hacktoberfest is still a beautiful idea. It gets thousands of people writing code, exploring projects, and learning skills they’ll carry for life maybe we will see some more open source projects.

But maybe we all need a reminder: Contributions are more than commits — they’re collaboration, communication, and creativity combined. If you’re contributing to open source this October, do it for the right reasons: to learn, to share, to help.

And if you’re just here for the badges, emojis, and “README updates”… don’t worry — we’ve got you covered. Visit ReadmeHub and go wild. After all, sometimes the best way to make a point is to turn it into a punchline.

Now go and fix some typos while I find a repo that can run on my pc.