One of my favorite newsletters is by Slow Ventures friend, Ricky Van Veen. A few weeks ago, he wrote about how DeBeers essentially manufactured the $4bn diamond engagement ring industry as we know it — not by improving their product, but by selling us a story. The most valuable companies are those that successfully convince us we need to be part of something we never knew we wanted. This reveals the primacy of narrative over product.

Before the 1930s, diamond engagement rings weren't a thing. DeBeers sold the idea that love requires a specific ritual with specific props, turning a simple luxury into a romantic necessity. Their "A diamond is forever" campaign created a cultural expectation that persists nearly a century later.

And once you start looking, this pattern emerges everywhere. Another example Ricky highlighted was how the bookshelf became the supposed cornerstone of a complete living room. With buy-in from architects and interior designers alike, Edward Bernays convinced consumers that centrally displaying their books signaled supreme intellect. An elaborate, if not ironic, scheme to sell more books to people who technically should know better :) Fast forward to just last week — Anthropic dropped a new brand video for Claude, squashing doomsayers and positioning AI not as a human replacement but as a human accelerant. Only time will tell how effective it is, but "there's never been a better time to have a problem" is a pretty compelling framing IMO.

The best companies don't just sell products, they construct worlds. They develop the lore, language, symbols, rituals, and characters (including villains!) that make participation feel anything but transactional. The playbook is surprisingly consistent: identify latent cultural desires or anxieties, craft a narrative that positions owned offerings as the solution, embed the story so deeply it becomes cultural truth, and watch the market follow.

In many ways, creators do this instinctively. They invite people into their universes, demonstrate what matters and why, and build collective buy-in along the way. It's common for creators to develop inside jokes or code words, introduce recurring characters, and stir up community desire to participate.

Followers of Tinx have incorporated "divoon" into their everyday lexicon. Bryan Johnson’s disciples have a new appreciation for erections (I had to, I’m sorry). Codie Sanchez’s crew has the same level of reverence for a main street HVAC business as Silicon Valley investors have for the latest hot AI startup.

What makes creators perfect laboratories for this approach is their dynamic nature. They evolve their worlds in real-time: stretching, growing, testing the limits of their storylines. Their audiences develop genuine emotional connections to both the creator and fellow community members. They provide contextual richness and wide surface area; every piece of content adds dimension. Finally, their feedback loops are immediate, allowing creators to adjust their narratives based on real-time audience response.

What makes this so powerful is that brands can create demand and economic value where none existed before. Goodwill on a company's balance sheet literally represents the measurable worth of story and its perception. In certain instances, it's the largest "asset" when companies get acquired, proving that narratives have concrete financial value. Consider Trump Media's market cap relative to its fundamental business metrics (wild), or Tesla's valuation during years when they were barely shipping cars. These examples (and their founders) reflect the power of worldbuilding beyond current operations.

For creators specifically, this approach generates very real business advantages: higher lifetime value as audiences adopt worldviews rather than simply consume content, organic growth through evangelical community members, and premium pricing power for products relative to generic competitors.

But this approach isn't without risk. Unless built on an authentic foundation with genuine audience resonance, these carefully constructed universes can collapse faster than they were assembled. A single scandal or string of inauthentic missteps can topple the entire narrative structure. The creators who build lasting worlds are architects of belief systems that have to be nurtured and maintained.

While worldbuilding has always existed (DeBeers and Edward Bernays were pioneering this in the 1930s), it matters more now than ever. As technology rapidly commoditizes products and services, storytelling becomes the primary way to stay top-of-mind, build trust, and lock an audience into an ecosystem. It's not enough to capture attention anymore. Companies and creators today need to construct compelling universes that people actually want to inhabit (and stay in).

Ok now send me creators who do this well! :) :)

— Megan