Sanremo, February 23, 2026
Glitchborne returned to Casa Sanremo Invest the way certain legends return: without knocking, with the 3D glasses already on and the slime acting as a VIP badge. The lobby is full of voices, handshakes, 30-second pitches, and looks that say “okay, but let me try it.”
He doesn’t “present” Metagate. He makes it happen.
The moment the first headset goes into passthrough, the room gains a second layer. Not “content” slapped on like a digital poster, but a living interface: 3D objects that sit on the real world as if they’ve paid rent. And the best part is nobody asks for instructions. Hands move on their own: pinch, rotate, scale. The user doesn’t ask “what do I do?”, they start exploring. When that happens, Glitchborne feels it in the slime: it vibrates like bass in a club, because the technology disappears and interaction remains.
Storm laughs inside his head, pirate hat tilted.
“See? You don’t need to convince them. You need to let them touch the glitch. One minute of demo is worth more than a thousand decks.”
Echo, on the other side, cleans the edges of chaos with surgical calm.
“Yes, and not to make them fall into VR but to make them interact. Here we’re building a language, not a trick.”
Two days (February 22–23) of hands-on demos and nonstop conversations: real questions, real objections, real use cases. Glitchborne loves that kind of pressure: it’s rapid validation, the only court you can’t buy. And above all there’s that other word that in Sanremo almost sounds strange, but here has weight: sustainability. Less material. More reuse. More digital that doesn’t end up in a drawer. “Back-to-real,” someone might say. He translates it into Yacht Club dialect: less plastic, more banana-powered experience.
Then comes the Web3 part, the one that usually makes half the room raise an eyebrow. Except here there’s no theory—there’s action.
Glitchborne drops anchor: NFT POAP.
Not as just an “NFT collectible,” but as proof of presence that becomes a key: a memory of the event, a bridge between physical and digital identity, a base for rewards and future access. The redemption moment is a mental click: when people realize Web3 only makes sense if it unlocks measurable utility, the room changes temperature. Even the slime stabilizes, as if to say: okay, we’re not playing at being mysterious here.
And while everyone is still in the “wow, I redeemed it” mood, Glitchborne opens the serious chapter disguised as magic: the Digital Product Passport. Supply chain, traceability, audit trail: words that on a dashboard feel like punishment, but in Mixed Reality become a navigable 3D map above the object. Origin, certifications, lots: not a table, but an explorable story. The kind of thing that makes people say “ah, so that’s what it is.” Reduced cognitive friction. Translated: fewer yawns, more understanding.
Storm whispers, razor-sharp:
“If you can see the supply chain like a dungeon, you can also hide secrets in it.”
Echo pulls him back in line:
“Or you can make them transparent. Trust isn’t preached—it’s shown.”
In the middle, the interview with Moneyviz: stage, lights, limited time. Gabriele Del Mese asks pointed questions. Glitchborne likes that game: answering without smoke, because in Sanremo attention is hard currency. And there Mixed Reality wins only if it’s designed well: enter, hook, explain, leave a trace.
Then the jury of the Music-Tech Competition. Glitchborne watches the projects the way you watch a future in beta: lots of prototypes, few things that can really become product. And he knows it: you don’t make the leap with hype, you make it with pipeline, onboarding, retention. In two hours of event you learn more than in two months of meetings.
And here comes the hammer on the forge: OpenGate XR.
No-code, but not “cheap.” No-code as a secret weapon to cut time and costs without losing curation. Because if every experience requires a heavy pipeline, it becomes a “one-and-done” event. But if you can replicate it, improve it, modularize it… then you actually start building. And Glitchborne, under the melted T-shirt, smiles: this is the part where you stop doing demos and start doing industry.
When the doors of Casa Sanremo Invest start to empty out, what remains are the things that matter: feedback, contacts, ideas that didn’t go dark the moment the headset came off.
Glitchborne looks at the real floor. Then the digital layer.
“WAGMI,” he murmurs, but not as a slogan. As a diagnosis.
And just when it seems finished, his 3D glasses catch a detail: a micro-glitch near the awards area. A misaligned shadow, a fragment of code that shouldn’t be there. The slime curls like a radar.
Storm licks his teeth.
“Alpha leak. The awarded projects aren’t the only thing that’s going to come out.”
Echo speaks softly, but it carries weight.
“The collaborations born here are seeds. And seeds, if you plant them well, change the landscape.”
Glitchborne adjusts his glasses, takes a step, and reality… makes room.