Vibe coding solved a surprisingly large part of the “can I build this?” problem.
That is a good thing.
A solo builder can go from an idea to a working product faster than ever. The UI can look polished. The app can be responsive. The landing page can be clear enough. Payments can work. The thing can actually ship.
And then something strange happens.
You open ten newly built AI products and start getting the feeling that you have already seen all of them.
Same promises.
Same proof.
Same hero logic.
Same language about being faster, smarter, effortless, AI-powered and built for modern teams.
The obvious conclusion is usually:
“Vibe coding makes everything look the same.”
I don’t think that’s quite right.
Vibe coding isn’t the problem. Sameness is.
Tools tend to make execution easier.
They do not automatically decide:
- what should lead
- what is actually specific to this product
- which familiar patterns are useful
- which familiar patterns are hiding the idea
- what proof really supports the claim
- what deserves to be remembered
That part is judgment.
And as execution becomes cheaper, I think judgment becomes a bigger bottleneck.
Familiarity isn’t failure
A lot of attempts to “stand out” start in the wrong place.
Change the typography.
Add stranger colors.
Break the layout.
Make the copy more provocative.
Remove familiar navigation.
But familiar patterns are often useful.
A visitor already knowing how a pricing page works is not a positioning failure.
A centered hero is not automatically a problem.
Cards are not automatically a problem.
The interesting question is:
After all the familiar structure has done its job, can I still tell what belongs specifically to this product?
That is a different problem.
The good part is often already there
One pattern I keep noticing is that the most distinctive sentence on a product page is often not the headline.
It is somewhere much lower.
The hero says:
“AI-powered operations for modern teams.”
Three sections later the product finally says something like:
“Replay the handoff that changed the escalation.”
That second sentence has a workflow in it.
It implies an audience.
It suggests a specific problem.
It gives you something you could actually prove.
The product did not need a more creative idea.
It already had one.
It needed to move the good part forward.
I’ve been calling the hidden cost the “boredom tax”
Not as a financial metric.
Just as a useful way to name the problem.
A product pays the boredom tax when every generic promise, interchangeable proof point and buried good idea makes it a little easier to ignore.
You can pay it with a perfectly functional product.
You can pay it with a beautiful landing page.
You can even pay it with a very clear page.
Because “ready to ship” and “hard to forget” are not the same question.
A small test
When I look at an AI product now, I ask five things:
- Could this headline belong to a competitor?
- Can I tell exactly who this is for?
- Is there a specific workflow or idea that belongs to the product?
- Does the proof support that specific claim, or just create general trust?
- What would I remember tomorrow?
If the answers are vague, redesigning the page is probably not the first move.
The first move may simply be deciding what should lead.
Build → judge → change → ship
I think this is becoming a more useful loop for AI-assisted builders:
BUILD → JUDGE → CHANGE → SHIP
The tools help with the build.
The interesting part begins when the build works.
That is why I made a small experiment called MEHMARK.
It separates launch readiness from distinctiveness and looks for the parts of a public AI product page that feel owned, interchangeable, specific, buried or worth preserving.
You can scan your own product, a competitor, or any public AI product you are curious about.
Scans are private by default.
I’m less interested in whether a product is “vibe-coded” than in what happens after the coding is done.
Because the scarce thing may no longer be the ability to build.
It may be knowing what is worth keeping.
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