Examples & guides
Hand-written deep dives on what breaks when you ship a vibe-coded launch page, plus recent public roasts from the community.
Guides
Security
The 7 security mistakes we see in almost every vibe-coded app
The exposed keys, missing RLS policies, and default-open configs that keep showing up in URL after URL. What we look for and how to fix each in an afternoon.
Checklist
Is my vibe-coded app secure? A 12-item checklist you can run in an hour
A one-hour audit for the launch you shipped last night. Twelve concrete checks, each answerable with a yes/no.
Copywriting
What the best Product Hunt launch tweets have in common
Read 40 launch posts across 2 months and the pattern is annoyingly consistent. A short breakdown of what to steal and what to skip.
Comparison
Lovable vs Bolt vs v0: the most common launch mistakes per tool
The default failure modes we see for each vibe-coding tool. What each one gets right, and what each one leaves for you to fix before launch.
Agencies
How to automate landing page audits for a whole client roster
A repeatable workflow for agencies: batch-audit 20+ client sites at once, turn the findings into a branded report, and keep every site monitored between engagements.
Recent roasts
Security’s squeaky clean, so the microphone goes to the copy: “Create the room. Share the QR. Sing together.” is clear, but then every feature arrives wearing a terms-and-conditions jacket, especially “Submitted QR payments activate provisionally.” The R7K2W mock room sells harder than the pass explainer. Solid product, but the landing page is one power ballad away from becoming a help doc.
Security is clean, so the mic survives the passive scan. The page is pleasantly coherent, but it sings the same chorus too many times: “No app required,” “sing solo,” “sing together,” plus duplicate navs and a “54 people online” flex that feels like a karaoke bar counting the bartender. Strong product idea, but the copy needs fewer backing vocalists.
Nearvi feels genuinely calm and useful, but the page keeps patting the same sentence on the head: QR-armbånd, scan, kontakt, familie, repeat until the bracelet files a support ticket. The design is soft and trustworthy, though the CTA buffet serves “Gå til shoppen,” “Find jeres armbånd,” “Prøv demoen,” and app downloads before I know what dinner costs. Sweet product, slightly over-parented landing page.
Opening with “Know who's on vacationbefore you promise a release date” is painfully on-brand: the calendar caught Ryan’s KubeCon trip, but the spacebar was out of office. The product story is refreshingly specific, then it brings receipts like “Q4 OOO (new)” and 1,216 words of manager trauma. Great demo, but the hero is one typo away from asking me to file PTO for your copywriter.
Security is squeaky clean, so the crime scene is that hero H1: “The euro account you own” got duplicated into a word-collage with “eurodollarSoonpoundSoonyenSoon” like the DOM sneezed. The product sounds refreshingly honest about beta, Monerium, and no deposit insurance, but the page keeps making users assemble the pitch from fridge magnets.
UsageLynx says “Track Coding Agent Usage Across Devices,” then the page opens by serving me React minified soup like I accidentally clicked View Source. There are no visible CTAs, no headings, and not even a favicon, so the product feels less launched than escaped from the build folder. Private dashboard? Buddy, the dashboard is currently a JavaScript yard sale.
Famille feels genuinely useful, but the hero immediately has triplets: “Cerca i servizi sul territorio,” “Scopri tutte le cose da sapere,” and “Chiedi all'assistente digitale” all repeat like a sleep-deprived parent refreshing WhatsApp. Credibility is solid, then the missing favicon shows up barefoot at the municipal office.
Jimpl is refreshingly useful, but the hero reads like it was assembled from SEO fridge magnets: “#1 Online EXIF data viewer,” “(UPDATED),” and a trust badge based on 128,065 mystery votes. The product flow is clear, but buttons like “Miami Beach,” “NYSE,” and “Flower” feel less like examples and more like a CAPTCHA having a lifestyle crisis.
Security looks clean, but the site still showed up to dinner with no favicon and a name tag that says “Afribabah | Afribabah.” The page keeps switching between French and English like “Rapprocher la maison” got lost on the way to “Start Shopping,” then backs it up with “100%+ Satisfaction” and “10K+ Revues d'experts,” which sounds less like trust and more like a spreadsheet sneezed.
Your 404 says “This page got roasted and disappeared,” which is cute, but the URL also appears to have eaten itself: /enhttps://www.roast-my-site.fr/en. The page has more navigation than content, two “EN” buttons, and a “Subscribe” CTA on a dead end, like asking users to join the newsletter at a crime scene.
Security is clean, so the crime scene is pure copy: “Ship softwareat the speed of thought” forgot the space while promising telepathy. The page says vibe coding so many times it starts feeling like a legally binding incense subscription, then flexes Cursor, Claude Code, Codex, Windsurf, and OpenClaw on loop like a NASCAR jacket for agents. Strong social proof, but the hero needs one sharper promise, not a swarm of buzzwords opening PRs.
“Ship softwareat the speed of thought” is bold, mostly because the spacebar didn’t ship. The page has real traction with 13,200 Discord members and 86,000 YouTube subs, but then buries it under a fog machine of “vibe coding,” “agentic,” BridgeSpace, BridgeSwarm, BridgeMCP, and a demo that reads like a terminal had a panic attack. “Stop typing.Start shipping” is less a CTA than a cry for kerning help.