You’ve probably sat through one. The room goes dark. A founder in a Patagonia vest stands at center stage. The slides are flawless—animations, gradients, a mission statement that sounds like it was written by an AI that read too much Tony Robbins. The pitch is a masterpiece of nothing.
Then you check your email and find the actual product is a to-do list app. With a slightly different shade of blue.
Hypeplan is a GitHub project that does one thing: turn any plan into a terminal keynote speech. It’s a script. It generates slides in your terminal. It’s absurdly overproduced for what it is—and that’s exactly the point.
“The most honest pitch deck is the one that admits it’s a joke.”
I found Hypeplan while doomscrolling at 2 AM. The author, Martin Rue, left a note: “Just to be clear: this is not a serious project and I will, unfortunately, be rejecting all VC offers so please don’t waste both of our time with your ‘series A’ and nice boardrooms.” It’s the funniest thing I’ve read all year, not because it’s a joke, but because it’s the truth dressed as one.
We’ve all been there—the startup that raised millions on a pitch that was 90% hand-wavy buzzwords and 10% actual tech. Hypeplan mimics that. It takes your mundane plan—”we want to build a calendar app”—and turns it into a terminal-based manifesto with dramatic transitions, bold statements, and simulated gravitas.
“Hypeplan doesn’t mock startups. It mocks the people who invest in them.”
The twist is recursive. The tool is a satire, but the very act of building it—and sharing it on GitHub—is itself a pitch. It’s a pitch to laugh at pitches. The medium is the critique. Martin isn’t selling anything. He’s holding up a mirror, and the room smells like cheap champagne.
This is where the deep truth lands: the startup ecosystem rewards performance over substance. Hypeplan is the emperor’s new clothes, coded in Rust (or whatever), and deployed to a website with zero followers. It’s the most honest startup I’ve ever seen.
“The best pitch is one that never pretends to be a pitch.”
If you’ve ever felt the pressure to inflate a simple idea into a “visionary keynote,” this tool is catharsis. It’s permission to stop pretending. The emperor has no clothes, and the only honest thing left to do is run a script that says so, right there in the terminal, in blinking neon green.
I ran it. It generated a keynote for “improving my email inbox.” The slides had titles like “The Inbox Revolution” and “Phase 3: Global Rollout.” I laughed until I cried. Because I’ve built that slide deck for real. I’ve stood in that room. I’ve been the emperor.
Hypeplan doesn’t solve anything. It exposes everything.
FAQ
Q: Is Hypeplan actually useful for anything?
A: No. It's a satirical tool. Its utility is in exposing the absurdity of turning simple ideas into overproduced pitches. That exposure is the value.
Q: Should I use Hypeplan for my real pitch deck?
A: Only if you're pitching to a venture capitalist who genuinely enjoys irony—and that irony includes you wasting their time. Otherwise, no.
Q: Isn't this just another tech joke that will be forgotten tomorrow?
A: Yes, but that's exactly why it matters. Hypeplan is a timestamp of a culture that rewards style over substance. Tomorrow's joke will be forgotten; today's truth won't.