Hey folks,
I need to share something that's been keeping me awake at night—not from worry, but from excitement about what we're witnessing. There's a $43 billion digital legacy market growing at 15.6% annually, and almost nobody talks about it at dinner parties or business meetings. It's the death tech industry, and it represents the biggest shift in how humanity handles legacy since we invented writing.
Why doesn't anyone discuss this billion-dollar market opportunity? Simple: death is the ultimate conversation killer. Investors would rather fund the fiftieth food delivery app than face mortality. But here's the thing—the numbers don't care about our discomfort. This market exists because real people have real digital lives that need real digital death planning.
Consider this: you probably have over 90 online accounts. Your digital assets are likely worth more than $5,000. Yet only 27% of people have any plan for what happens to their digital existence when they die. That gap between need and action? That's where the market lives.
We're experiencing a perfect storm of demographic shifts. Millennials are reaching peak earning years while being the first generation to live entire adult lives online. There's a $68 trillion wealth transfer happening, and it's increasingly digital. Meanwhile, legal frameworks are finally catching up, with states recognizing digital wills and Europe mandating digital inheritance rights.
But here's what frustrates me about this market opportunity: most solutions are treating it like a technical problem when it's fundamentally a human one. They're building calculators when people need poetry. They're creating spreadsheets when families need stories.
That's why we built DeathNote differently. We recognized that this isn't just about asset transfer or account management—it's about preserving the human connections that make life meaningful. The market opportunity is massive because the emotional need is universal.
What excites me isn't the dollar amounts, though they validate what we already knew: people desperately need better ways to plan for digital death. What excites me is that we're part of creating an entirely new category of human care—one that honors both our technological reality and our deep need for meaningful connection across time.
This market growth represents millions of people recognizing that their digital lives matter, that their online relationships deserve care, and that love can and should transcend physical presence. That's not just a business opportunity—it's a human awakening.