Why the next big blockchain might not be about tech at all, but about tribe and meme magic.
*Special thanks to @Zagabond, @brianjhhong, @Steve_4P, @JayLovesPotato, @100y_eth for their valuable feedback on this piece.
Imagine a blockchain where the killer feature isnât a breakthrough consensus algorithm or eye-popping tps â itâs the vibe. On this chain, people show up not for lower gas fees, but for the inside jokes, the shared identity, and the memes. Sounds absurd, right? Yet, time and again in crypto, weâve seen culture trump technology.
Think about it: $DOGE (and a dozen others), a literal joke, birthed as a meme, somehow rocketed into a multi-billion dollar asset without any tech innovation. Bitcoinâs earliest days were fueled less by its code and more by a cyberpunk creed. Ethereumâs most die-hard users often say they âcame for the tech, stayed for the community.â Hackathons like ETHGlobal and global Devcon events were cultural touchstones, forging bonds among developers beyond the code. Crypto has evolved into a stage where participation is the product â an immersive social game of finance, ideology, and culture.
Welcome to the era of Culture Chains: blockchains defined not by what they do, but by who they are for.
Culture Chains are the new vertical SaaS for fandoms.
In plain English, a culture chain is a blockchain with an ethos â a network tailored to a specific community, subculture, or movement. Unlike generic âone-size-fits-allâ L1s or hyper-focused appchains that run a single dapp, culture chains occupy a spicy middle ground. Theyâre purpose-built playgrounds for people who share a common vibe or goal, offering a home for multiple applications that all resonate with a particular tribe.
By this definition, one might argue that every blockchain has culture. Ethereum has a cypherpunk-meets-institutional ethos, prioritizing decentralization, programmability, and neutrality. Solana, by contrast, embodies speed, chaos, and financial speculation, shaped largely by its high throughput, low cost architecture.
Yet, these cultural identities emerged as byproducts of design choices rather than deliberate intent. General-purpose blockchains inevitably develop their own unique cultures, but Culture Chains are different in that they are purpose-built to serve cultural economies from the protocol level. The distinction lies in intentionality.
Picture a blockchain where every dapp on it caters to anime art collectors, or hardcore degens, or RPG gamers, or fans of a particular NFT universe. All the users speak the same slang, ape into the same trends, laugh at the same memes. Itâs like a digital city-state with its own culture, running on a blockchain. While a typical general-purpose chain is like a giant cosmopolitan metropolis (great diversity but often chaotic), a culture chain is more like a theme park or a renaissance fair â highly curated for a specific crowd. By focusing on a niche, it can optimize everything (technology, governance, tokenomics) to serve that communityâs values and needs.
Theyâre blockchains designed to monetize, scale, and protect it. That design can take many forms:
In essence, culture chains are an evolution of the âvertical blockchainâ idea: instead of boiling the ocean, they own a niche. They aim to be the go-to chain for X, where X is a community or use-case thatâs culturally cohesive. The hypothesis is that by doing so, they can nurture stronger network effects among like-minded users and devs than a generic chain ever could. Their power comes from focus.
In crypto, tribes > tech. Bet on the chain with the most believers per block, not just the most tps.
Does culture really matter more than code? Many hardcore technologists roll their eyes at this notion. After all, blockchain infrastructure is serious business â math, cryptography, engineering, game theory. But while code is law, in crypto culture is king. The social layer decides which laws (code) get adopted in the first place. A brilliant protocol with no believers is DOA; a scrappy meme with an army of zealots can move mountains.
Crypto networks are ultimately social networks with a bank attached. Human psychology drives adoption: FOMO, tribalism, identity, belief. You canât fork that with a Github repo. Consider how Bitcoin forked into Bitcoin Cash â the tech diverged slightly, but the culture diverged massively (big blockers vs. small blockers), and that social schism determined the winner. Ethereumâs community famously forked out Ethereum Classic; same code lineage, different culture, hugely different outcomes.
Memes and narratives have atomic-level power in this industry. Remember the DeFi summer when yield farming took off? It wasnât just the smart contracts; it was the memetic rallying cry of degens shouting farm and dump and aping together that created a movement. Or the NFT boom: why did JPEGs on Ethereum explode in value? Not because ERC-721 is magical tech (itâs fairly simple), but because a culture of digital art collectors and flexers coalesced around CryptoPunks, Bored Apes, and the rest. The tech enabled provable ownership, sure, but the social prestige and community belonging drove the hype.
A chainâs long-term success often boils down to community moats. This is the contrarian truth: the strongest moat in crypto isnât hash power or tps, itâs belief. Value isnât just in the code, itâs in the culture that forms around it.
Itâs the unquantifiable mojo that makes a person tattoo the logo on their arm or hodl through a 90% drawdown. It turns early adopters into evangelists. It makes a product feel inevitable.
Culture chains double down on this insight, betting that a passionate niche can outperform a generic mass.
General-purpose chains pray for users. Culture Chains start with it baked in.
Yet, the important question remains: how feasible is this shift? A new category of blockchains can only succeed if it is both technologically viable and economically scalable.
Unlike past blockchain narratives that attempted to reshape entire industries from the ground up, Culture Chains take a more pragmatic approach. They do not require entirely new infrastructure but instead refine and optimize existing blockchain frameworks to serve cultural economies.
Thanks to new tech stacks (ironically, tech enabling culture), spinning up your own blockchain is easier than ever. Frameworks like the OP Stack, Arbitrum Orbit and Cosmos SDK, plus modular blockchains, DA layers, and rollup-as-a-service offerings, mean you no longer need a PhD in distributed systems to launch a new chain.
This makes Culture Chains technically viable today, not in some hypothetical future.
Critics often raise the TAM issue: that by focusing on niche audiences, these chains cap their growth. But that logic doesnât hold when you zoom in: BTSâs fandom is estimated at 90M people, dwarfing Solanaâs all-time high MAU of 31M.
And importantly, fandoms donât just exist. They spend, organize, and mobilize. Theyâre not passive consumers, theyâre cultural infrastructure waiting to be activated.
Forget TAM. Start measuring TAC(Total Addressable Culture).
Culture Chains arenât vapor. Theyâre shipping, with users who actually care.
Several early players are already building with this ethos.
Story
What if the next great fantasy universe or comic franchise didnât come from a single studio, but from a community on-chain? @StoryProtocol is betting on exactly that. Itâs a new L1 project aiming to be the decentralized IP backbone for the internet â basically, an open platform where creators can collaboratively build and remix stories, with the blockchain tracking contributions and ownership.
The tech here is interesting (provenance tracking for creative works), but the big idea is cultural. Itâs trying to cultivate a tribe of storytellers who collectively craft worlds â a fandom turned DAO.
If it succeeds, the next Harry Potter-like phenomenon could be crowd-created, with memes and fan lore intertwined, all secured on a blockchain. Story illustrates the shift toward cultural innovation: it treats a blockchain like a canvas for memes, myths, and collaborative creativity
Animecoin
Anime fandom is massive and borderless â a billion of people passionately connected by their love of Japanese animation. Now imagine giving that entire global tribe a token to rally around. Enter @animecoin, a.k.a. $ANIME. Recently launched as a âculture coin,â Animecoin is designed to unite anime lovers on the blockchain. The idea is straightforward: leverage an existing vibrant subculture into a crypto ecosystem. For a more detailed analysis, refer to the reports âAnime Needs Web3â and âThe Future of $ANIME is Yoursâ.
Animecoin could be used to fund fan-driven projects, buy and trade anime-themed digital goods, or vote on supporting up-and-coming creators. But more than any specific utility, $ANIME serves as a cultural banner â a shared economic identity for anime geeks.
Itâs early days, but if even a fraction of global otakus embrace it, thatâs millions of new crypto users who care more about Crunchyroll than cryptography. Animecoin exemplifies the âculture chainâ thesis: itâs crypto built around an identity people love, rather than asking people to care about crypto for its own sake.
Abstract
@AbstractChain takes a more crypto-native route. Instead of layering onto an existing fandom, itâs creating a new kind of cultural economy from scratch. Itâs a new network on top of Ethereum that doesnât sell itself on being the fastest or most secure (though it uses fancy tech like ZK-rollups under the hood). Instead, Abstractâs pitch is about making crypto fun and easy so normal people actually want to use it. Backed by the team behind the beloved Pudgy Penguins NFT collection, Abstract is tailored for games, collectibles, social apps â blockchain applications where community and user experience matter most. For a more detailed analysis, refer to the reports âAbstract: A Blueprint For Disneyland In Cryptoâ and âThe Masterminds Behind Abstract: Igniting the Crypto Consumer Revolutionâ.
Abstract is basically saying: if you build the cultural playground, the geeks and normies will come. Itâs an experiment in baking community values (accessibility, fun, creative freedom) right into the blockchain infrastructure.
What unites these examples is a strategy of owning a vertical. Instead of being everything for everyone, these chains want to be everything for someone. By concentrating on a tribe, they hope to ignite powerful network effects: users stick around because their friends are there and the whole environment is tailor-made for them; developers deploy there because thatâs where their target users congregate.
Itâs positive feedback: a flywheel of culture > users > apps > more culture.
When fandoms turn financial, the culture can crack.
That said, the biggest flaw in this thesis lies in one uncomfortable question: can fans truly become investors? The act of consuming culture and the act of investing are fundamentally different. Unless someone happens to be deeply engaged in both crypto and a specific fan culture from the start, itâs hard to assume these two very different audiences will naturally converge. Perhaps the idea that fandoms can evolve into investor communities is, at best, an optimistic oversimplification.
The second risk is just as critical, and familiar. When speculative demand overwhelms organic engagement, the underlying economy collapses. Weâve seen this story unfold time and again in numerous p2e games. The same danger looms here. If financial incentives begin to outweigh cultural participation, speculation could quietly erode fan economies from the inside out.
Finally, fragmentation and liquidity silos. If every niche spins out its own chain, we risk recreating the same isolation problem we tried to solve with interoperability. To succeed, Culture Chains will need composable infrastructure and bridge liquidity to the broader crypto economy.
If you wouldnât wear the hoodie, donât bet the chain
So, why am I still bullish on culture chains despite those cautionary tales? Because when they do hit, they hit big. In a landscape where technological alpha gets arbitraged away quickly (todayâs flashy scalability trick is tomorrowâs baseline feature), social alpha â the unique energy of a community remains one of the last unfair advantages. As an investor or builder, leveraging culture is a power move.
For VCs and funders: evaluating a culture chain means expanding your due diligence beyond TPS and GitHub commits. Ask: Does this community have a soul? Is there a core of true believers who will stick around in the trenches? It sounds squishy, but these are leading indicators of whether a project can grow organically. A chain with mediocre tech but an army of memelords might outgrow a chain with brilliant tech and no vibe. The investment thesis here is like backing a social network â youâre looking at engagement, identity, network effects, not just software throughput.
For crypto-native builders and founders: culture chains offer a chance to build with maximal user alignment. Youâre not launching into the void hoping to attract random users; you have a preset audience hungry for what youâre building. Itâs like being a chef in a region that loves your kind of food. But it also means you canât hide â the feedback loop will be instant and vocal. Build in the open with your community, let them own the narrative with you. And remember, prioritize not just tech, but also urban planning (community governance, social features, fun events, lore). The social UX is as important as the UI/UX.
For the degens, the creators, the everyday participants: culture chains are the ultimate sandbox. Theyâre places where your obsession is the norm, not the niche. If youâre deep into an ecosystem and feel held back by the general-purpose chains, you now have an avenue to collectively roll your own playground. Of course, with great power comes great responsibility â itâs on the community to keep the vibe alive. In a culture chain, you are the content and the value. That can be incredibly rewarding (think early Ethereum folks who literally helped shape a world) or exhausting if mismanaged. Choose your tribes wisely.
In the 2010~early 2020s, crypto was all about âmoar TPSâ and one-upping each other with technical roadmaps. Those days are gone. Weâve reached a point where many chains are âgood enoughâ on pure tech. The next frontier of competition is vibe density per block. The chains that will stand out in the late 2020s wonât necessarily be the ones processing a million TPS in theory; theyâll be the ones hosting a million inside jokes, a million passionate interactions, a million-strong collective that feels like home.
So if youâre hunting for the next big crypto trend, donât just ask âWhat does the code do?â Ask âWhat does the community believe?â Look for the in-jokes, the rituals, the vibe. Thatâs where youâll find culture chains being born â and with them, perhaps the next generation of blockchains.
(Halfway through writing this article, I realized that defining Culture Chains isnât as straightforward as I initially thought. The cleanest definition I have right now is simply blockchains purpose-built for specific cultural industries and their fandoms. Maybe Iâll refine it further as I develop my thesis).
Why the next big blockchain might not be about tech at all, but about tribe and meme magic.
*Special thanks to @Zagabond, @brianjhhong, @Steve_4P, @JayLovesPotato, @100y_eth for their valuable feedback on this piece.
Imagine a blockchain where the killer feature isnât a breakthrough consensus algorithm or eye-popping tps â itâs the vibe. On this chain, people show up not for lower gas fees, but for the inside jokes, the shared identity, and the memes. Sounds absurd, right? Yet, time and again in crypto, weâve seen culture trump technology.
Think about it: $DOGE (and a dozen others), a literal joke, birthed as a meme, somehow rocketed into a multi-billion dollar asset without any tech innovation. Bitcoinâs earliest days were fueled less by its code and more by a cyberpunk creed. Ethereumâs most die-hard users often say they âcame for the tech, stayed for the community.â Hackathons like ETHGlobal and global Devcon events were cultural touchstones, forging bonds among developers beyond the code. Crypto has evolved into a stage where participation is the product â an immersive social game of finance, ideology, and culture.
Welcome to the era of Culture Chains: blockchains defined not by what they do, but by who they are for.
Culture Chains are the new vertical SaaS for fandoms.
In plain English, a culture chain is a blockchain with an ethos â a network tailored to a specific community, subculture, or movement. Unlike generic âone-size-fits-allâ L1s or hyper-focused appchains that run a single dapp, culture chains occupy a spicy middle ground. Theyâre purpose-built playgrounds for people who share a common vibe or goal, offering a home for multiple applications that all resonate with a particular tribe.
By this definition, one might argue that every blockchain has culture. Ethereum has a cypherpunk-meets-institutional ethos, prioritizing decentralization, programmability, and neutrality. Solana, by contrast, embodies speed, chaos, and financial speculation, shaped largely by its high throughput, low cost architecture.
Yet, these cultural identities emerged as byproducts of design choices rather than deliberate intent. General-purpose blockchains inevitably develop their own unique cultures, but Culture Chains are different in that they are purpose-built to serve cultural economies from the protocol level. The distinction lies in intentionality.
Picture a blockchain where every dapp on it caters to anime art collectors, or hardcore degens, or RPG gamers, or fans of a particular NFT universe. All the users speak the same slang, ape into the same trends, laugh at the same memes. Itâs like a digital city-state with its own culture, running on a blockchain. While a typical general-purpose chain is like a giant cosmopolitan metropolis (great diversity but often chaotic), a culture chain is more like a theme park or a renaissance fair â highly curated for a specific crowd. By focusing on a niche, it can optimize everything (technology, governance, tokenomics) to serve that communityâs values and needs.
Theyâre blockchains designed to monetize, scale, and protect it. That design can take many forms:
In essence, culture chains are an evolution of the âvertical blockchainâ idea: instead of boiling the ocean, they own a niche. They aim to be the go-to chain for X, where X is a community or use-case thatâs culturally cohesive. The hypothesis is that by doing so, they can nurture stronger network effects among like-minded users and devs than a generic chain ever could. Their power comes from focus.
In crypto, tribes > tech. Bet on the chain with the most believers per block, not just the most tps.
Does culture really matter more than code? Many hardcore technologists roll their eyes at this notion. After all, blockchain infrastructure is serious business â math, cryptography, engineering, game theory. But while code is law, in crypto culture is king. The social layer decides which laws (code) get adopted in the first place. A brilliant protocol with no believers is DOA; a scrappy meme with an army of zealots can move mountains.
Crypto networks are ultimately social networks with a bank attached. Human psychology drives adoption: FOMO, tribalism, identity, belief. You canât fork that with a Github repo. Consider how Bitcoin forked into Bitcoin Cash â the tech diverged slightly, but the culture diverged massively (big blockers vs. small blockers), and that social schism determined the winner. Ethereumâs community famously forked out Ethereum Classic; same code lineage, different culture, hugely different outcomes.
Memes and narratives have atomic-level power in this industry. Remember the DeFi summer when yield farming took off? It wasnât just the smart contracts; it was the memetic rallying cry of degens shouting farm and dump and aping together that created a movement. Or the NFT boom: why did JPEGs on Ethereum explode in value? Not because ERC-721 is magical tech (itâs fairly simple), but because a culture of digital art collectors and flexers coalesced around CryptoPunks, Bored Apes, and the rest. The tech enabled provable ownership, sure, but the social prestige and community belonging drove the hype.
A chainâs long-term success often boils down to community moats. This is the contrarian truth: the strongest moat in crypto isnât hash power or tps, itâs belief. Value isnât just in the code, itâs in the culture that forms around it.
Itâs the unquantifiable mojo that makes a person tattoo the logo on their arm or hodl through a 90% drawdown. It turns early adopters into evangelists. It makes a product feel inevitable.
Culture chains double down on this insight, betting that a passionate niche can outperform a generic mass.
General-purpose chains pray for users. Culture Chains start with it baked in.
Yet, the important question remains: how feasible is this shift? A new category of blockchains can only succeed if it is both technologically viable and economically scalable.
Unlike past blockchain narratives that attempted to reshape entire industries from the ground up, Culture Chains take a more pragmatic approach. They do not require entirely new infrastructure but instead refine and optimize existing blockchain frameworks to serve cultural economies.
Thanks to new tech stacks (ironically, tech enabling culture), spinning up your own blockchain is easier than ever. Frameworks like the OP Stack, Arbitrum Orbit and Cosmos SDK, plus modular blockchains, DA layers, and rollup-as-a-service offerings, mean you no longer need a PhD in distributed systems to launch a new chain.
This makes Culture Chains technically viable today, not in some hypothetical future.
Critics often raise the TAM issue: that by focusing on niche audiences, these chains cap their growth. But that logic doesnât hold when you zoom in: BTSâs fandom is estimated at 90M people, dwarfing Solanaâs all-time high MAU of 31M.
And importantly, fandoms donât just exist. They spend, organize, and mobilize. Theyâre not passive consumers, theyâre cultural infrastructure waiting to be activated.
Forget TAM. Start measuring TAC(Total Addressable Culture).
Culture Chains arenât vapor. Theyâre shipping, with users who actually care.
Several early players are already building with this ethos.
Story
What if the next great fantasy universe or comic franchise didnât come from a single studio, but from a community on-chain? @StoryProtocol is betting on exactly that. Itâs a new L1 project aiming to be the decentralized IP backbone for the internet â basically, an open platform where creators can collaboratively build and remix stories, with the blockchain tracking contributions and ownership.
The tech here is interesting (provenance tracking for creative works), but the big idea is cultural. Itâs trying to cultivate a tribe of storytellers who collectively craft worlds â a fandom turned DAO.
If it succeeds, the next Harry Potter-like phenomenon could be crowd-created, with memes and fan lore intertwined, all secured on a blockchain. Story illustrates the shift toward cultural innovation: it treats a blockchain like a canvas for memes, myths, and collaborative creativity
Animecoin
Anime fandom is massive and borderless â a billion of people passionately connected by their love of Japanese animation. Now imagine giving that entire global tribe a token to rally around. Enter @animecoin, a.k.a. $ANIME. Recently launched as a âculture coin,â Animecoin is designed to unite anime lovers on the blockchain. The idea is straightforward: leverage an existing vibrant subculture into a crypto ecosystem. For a more detailed analysis, refer to the reports âAnime Needs Web3â and âThe Future of $ANIME is Yoursâ.
Animecoin could be used to fund fan-driven projects, buy and trade anime-themed digital goods, or vote on supporting up-and-coming creators. But more than any specific utility, $ANIME serves as a cultural banner â a shared economic identity for anime geeks.
Itâs early days, but if even a fraction of global otakus embrace it, thatâs millions of new crypto users who care more about Crunchyroll than cryptography. Animecoin exemplifies the âculture chainâ thesis: itâs crypto built around an identity people love, rather than asking people to care about crypto for its own sake.
Abstract
@AbstractChain takes a more crypto-native route. Instead of layering onto an existing fandom, itâs creating a new kind of cultural economy from scratch. Itâs a new network on top of Ethereum that doesnât sell itself on being the fastest or most secure (though it uses fancy tech like ZK-rollups under the hood). Instead, Abstractâs pitch is about making crypto fun and easy so normal people actually want to use it. Backed by the team behind the beloved Pudgy Penguins NFT collection, Abstract is tailored for games, collectibles, social apps â blockchain applications where community and user experience matter most. For a more detailed analysis, refer to the reports âAbstract: A Blueprint For Disneyland In Cryptoâ and âThe Masterminds Behind Abstract: Igniting the Crypto Consumer Revolutionâ.
Abstract is basically saying: if you build the cultural playground, the geeks and normies will come. Itâs an experiment in baking community values (accessibility, fun, creative freedom) right into the blockchain infrastructure.
What unites these examples is a strategy of owning a vertical. Instead of being everything for everyone, these chains want to be everything for someone. By concentrating on a tribe, they hope to ignite powerful network effects: users stick around because their friends are there and the whole environment is tailor-made for them; developers deploy there because thatâs where their target users congregate.
Itâs positive feedback: a flywheel of culture > users > apps > more culture.
When fandoms turn financial, the culture can crack.
That said, the biggest flaw in this thesis lies in one uncomfortable question: can fans truly become investors? The act of consuming culture and the act of investing are fundamentally different. Unless someone happens to be deeply engaged in both crypto and a specific fan culture from the start, itâs hard to assume these two very different audiences will naturally converge. Perhaps the idea that fandoms can evolve into investor communities is, at best, an optimistic oversimplification.
The second risk is just as critical, and familiar. When speculative demand overwhelms organic engagement, the underlying economy collapses. Weâve seen this story unfold time and again in numerous p2e games. The same danger looms here. If financial incentives begin to outweigh cultural participation, speculation could quietly erode fan economies from the inside out.
Finally, fragmentation and liquidity silos. If every niche spins out its own chain, we risk recreating the same isolation problem we tried to solve with interoperability. To succeed, Culture Chains will need composable infrastructure and bridge liquidity to the broader crypto economy.
If you wouldnât wear the hoodie, donât bet the chain
So, why am I still bullish on culture chains despite those cautionary tales? Because when they do hit, they hit big. In a landscape where technological alpha gets arbitraged away quickly (todayâs flashy scalability trick is tomorrowâs baseline feature), social alpha â the unique energy of a community remains one of the last unfair advantages. As an investor or builder, leveraging culture is a power move.
For VCs and funders: evaluating a culture chain means expanding your due diligence beyond TPS and GitHub commits. Ask: Does this community have a soul? Is there a core of true believers who will stick around in the trenches? It sounds squishy, but these are leading indicators of whether a project can grow organically. A chain with mediocre tech but an army of memelords might outgrow a chain with brilliant tech and no vibe. The investment thesis here is like backing a social network â youâre looking at engagement, identity, network effects, not just software throughput.
For crypto-native builders and founders: culture chains offer a chance to build with maximal user alignment. Youâre not launching into the void hoping to attract random users; you have a preset audience hungry for what youâre building. Itâs like being a chef in a region that loves your kind of food. But it also means you canât hide â the feedback loop will be instant and vocal. Build in the open with your community, let them own the narrative with you. And remember, prioritize not just tech, but also urban planning (community governance, social features, fun events, lore). The social UX is as important as the UI/UX.
For the degens, the creators, the everyday participants: culture chains are the ultimate sandbox. Theyâre places where your obsession is the norm, not the niche. If youâre deep into an ecosystem and feel held back by the general-purpose chains, you now have an avenue to collectively roll your own playground. Of course, with great power comes great responsibility â itâs on the community to keep the vibe alive. In a culture chain, you are the content and the value. That can be incredibly rewarding (think early Ethereum folks who literally helped shape a world) or exhausting if mismanaged. Choose your tribes wisely.
In the 2010~early 2020s, crypto was all about âmoar TPSâ and one-upping each other with technical roadmaps. Those days are gone. Weâve reached a point where many chains are âgood enoughâ on pure tech. The next frontier of competition is vibe density per block. The chains that will stand out in the late 2020s wonât necessarily be the ones processing a million TPS in theory; theyâll be the ones hosting a million inside jokes, a million passionate interactions, a million-strong collective that feels like home.
So if youâre hunting for the next big crypto trend, donât just ask âWhat does the code do?â Ask âWhat does the community believe?â Look for the in-jokes, the rituals, the vibe. Thatâs where youâll find culture chains being born â and with them, perhaps the next generation of blockchains.
(Halfway through writing this article, I realized that defining Culture Chains isnât as straightforward as I initially thought. The cleanest definition I have right now is simply blockchains purpose-built for specific cultural industries and their fandoms. Maybe Iâll refine it further as I develop my thesis).