The future is low-tech: lessons from the early 2000s ft. Jésabel DC | Config 2026

Hi everybody. How's it going?

Awesome. Welcome to the future's low tech lessons from the early 2000s.

Show of hands. Who here got to experience technology in the early 2000s?

Hell yeah. And who here experienced this instead?

Well, fast forward to today and technology is getting more and more impressive, which could be exciting.

Except the user experience keeps getting worse. And the reason is because

worse. And the reason is because technology got really, really good at doing one specific thing, keeping us trapped inside.

Well, in the early 2000s, the internet was a place that you visited. You'd have

to walk up to the family computer, wait for it to boot up, check on your Neopets, and then you'd close it, and go back to your life.

But technology wasn't better in the early 2000s because designers were more ethical or more thoughtful. It was

better because they hadn't yet been handed the business model that rewarded trapping the user. But by the end of the decade, ads became the main way that tech companies made money. So, they

began optimizing for time spent on the platform. And when the business model

platform. And when the business model changed, the design changed with it. And

we went from designing experiences for our users to designing engagement mechanisms that use their own nervous systems against them. So where does that

leave us today? With a huge cultural divide. On one end, we're seeing people

divide. On one end, we're seeing people lose touch with reality by spending more time inside of systems that simulate connection and experience. And then on the other hand, we're seeing people so overwhelmed by technology that chucking

their phones into a lake is starting to seem like the only way out. But what I propose is an in between low tech. It

means using the technology that we need with the ability to step back into our lives.

But that shift requires us as designers to build technology around our users needs, not just what generates the most profit. Of course, profitability will

profit. Of course, profitability will always be a goal, but it cannot be the only goal that we're optimizing for because your user shouldn't be seen as a resource. They should be seen as a

resource. They should be seen as a relationship.

For many years, the dominant model has been extraction. Build something so

been extraction. Build something so compelling that your users cannot leave, harvest their attention, and then monetize the time that they spent trapped inside of your products.

The user gives, the product takes. But a

relationship implies reciprocity. create

real value for your user and in turn they give you their trust. And this is no longer just an ethical consideration.

We're entering a period where tech companies will face increasing pressure to justify the effects of their product.

As regulation, public awareness, and user expectations evolve, designing for your users needs will become a competitive advantage. And the companies

competitive advantage. And the companies that succeed in the next generation of technology will be the ones that recognize the shift and start paying attention to it now.

But before we dive into the lessons, I want to tell you why I got into this.

So, hi, I'm Jezebel DC. I am a tech anthropologist and a low tech futurist.

Much like how traditional anthropologists study the relationship between humans and their physical environment, I study the relationship between humans and their tech environments. And after over 4,000 hours

environments. And after over 4,000 hours of fieldwork studying how people navigate their digital lives, from entrepreneurs to CEOs to celebrities, I kept seeing the same thing. People are

convinced that they're bad at technology.

They blame themselves for their lack of focus, for their inability to put their phones down, and for feeling overwhelmed by the very tools that were supposed to make their lives easier.

But that wasn't the case in the early 2000s. Interfaces were easier to

2000s. Interfaces were easier to navigate, and companies put a real effort into educating their users, mostly because personal computing was still so new that they had to help their

users feel capable in order for adoption to happen. So I started asking myself

to happen. So I started asking myself this question.

What would it look like if technology were designed for your nervous system instead of against it? If interfaces

oriented you instead of disorienting you? And if technology returned you to

you? And if technology returned you to your life instead of trying to replace it. So instead of theorizing about this,

it. So instead of theorizing about this, my co-founder and I are doing just that with a lifestyle lab. The Lifestyle Lab is a product ecosystem that incorporates a video game, education programs, and

consulting experiences. So, if we can

consulting experiences. So, if we can design a game that helps people step away from their screens, programs that actually translate into real life, and consulting that turns user well-being

into actual product decisions, then we have more than a philosophy. We

have proof that the future of technology can be both profitable and human friendly. which is why I'm here to show

friendly. which is why I'm here to show you how the early 2000s can teach us about building the technology that this future needs. All right, ready to start?

future needs. All right, ready to start?

I had to do it.

Welcome back to the early 2000s, a slower, weirder, more human era of technology. These four lessons will

technology. These four lessons will teach us about clarity, orientation, real life connection, and serving your user.

For each lesson, we're going to examine an artifact, uncover the lesson it teaches us, and explore modern day applications.

Lesson one, the artifact. Lego instructions. Lego

the artifact. Lego instructions. Lego

instructions have zero words, just fullcolor step-by-step illustrations designed to be clear enough that a child with no reading ability can follow them without needing help from their parents.

LEGO has an entire team dedicated to building the model dozens of times in different ways to find the clearest possible sequence. And when the step

possible sequence. And when the step becomes too complicated to communicate clearly, they don't add more explanation. They simplify the build.

explanation. They simplify the build.

In other words, the instructions aren't just there to teach the user. They're a

diagnostic tool for designers to see where the experience requires more clarity.

And over the years, LEGO started embedding even more clarifying elements like numbered bags, piece callouts, and logical stopping points to make the process even easier to follow.

So, what's the lesson? If it requires an explanation, it needs a redesign.

In modern tech, we often do the opposite. If it requires an explanation,

opposite. If it requires an explanation, we pile on tool tips, onboarding flows, and help centers with hundreds of articles.

These products assume that their users will have the time and patience to figure things out, and their drop off rates suffer because of it. If your

product requires an explanation before it can be used, you're asking your user to do the work that the design should have done itself. Because the strongest products teach through the experience by

embedding guidance directly into the product.

Thank you.

Here's how companies are applying that.

The no-name brand is a grocery brand that embedded clarity right into the visual identity of their product by making its package radically clear. They

don't have farm fresh, not from concentrate organic apple juice.

They have apple beverage.

Most brands layer on marketing language that the customer has to process before making a decision. But the no-name brand reduces confusion by just saying it exactly like it is. And Super Mario Bros. does this by embedding

Bros. does this by embedding instructions directly into the first level of gameplay from their original world one to their most modern games. It

introduces a mechanic, lets you try it, raises the stakes, and then builds up on it. So before the end of the first

it. So before the end of the first level, players have learned all of the mechanics without reading a single line of instruction.

And at the lifestyle lab, we embed clarity by using physical space logic for our interfaces. This is a co-living tool that roommates can use to organize shared living. But instead of a

shared living. But instead of a traditional software interface, we designed it to look like a physical environment because a it's much more fun to interact with. But B, humans have

evolved to understand physical spaces.

So rather than having to look through a menu, chores can be found on the bulletin board, notes are left in the glass jar, and meetings happen on the bean bag chair.

All right, lesson two, the artifact, loading bars. On a

technical level, loading bars existed because things back then genuinely took time to load. But psychologically,

loading bars served another purpose.

Orientation.

Orientation tells the nervous system, you're not lost. You're not stuck.

Something is happening. And loading bars were just one of many orientation cues that were used in the early 2000s.

Seeing an obvious hover animation signaled that the button was in fact clickable. And hearing the camera

clickable. And hearing the camera shutter confirmed that the photo had been taken. Every single one of these

been taken. Every single one of these cues answered one of four questions.

Where am I? What's happening? Can I

interact with this? And did my action work? And when those questions are

work? And when those questions are finally answered, your nervous system can actually settle into the experience.

So what's the lesson? Disorientation

creates dependency. Orientation creates

trust.

When the infinite scroll, push notifications, and algorithmic feeds got introduced, our need for orientation increased. But instead, many platforms

increased. But instead, many platforms used that need against us, turning cues into dark patterns that create urgency, pressure, and distraction. But because

the more disoriented users become, the harder it is for them to resist harmful loops. Which is why as designers, it is

loops. Which is why as designers, it is our responsibility to create environments that support human behavior, not exploited. And it's not enough to just design something that is not exploitative. We have to actively

not exploitative. We have to actively design experiences that help regulate our users nervous systems to counteract the rest of their reality.

Otherwise, we risk losing them not because our product is bad, but because their nervous systems are already maxed out before they even arrive.

Here's how companies are applying that.

Shazam orients its users by making every state of the product super obvious.

Their users might be at a party mid-con conversation and want to catch the song before it ends. So, Shazam orients them fast, gives them the answer, and then gets out of the way like this. It's one

giant button, a listening state, a searching state, and then a very obvious confirmation state.

IKEA orients its users by turning the whole store into a giant map. The arrows

are huge, the room labels are obvious, and paths are drawn right on the floor.

And this is smart because how else will they offset the overwhelm of navigating a massive warehouse on a very stressful, very packed Saturday afternoon?

And at the lifestyle lab, we orient our users on our website by designing in very obvious hover states like these.

And whenever we design a presentation like this one, instead of having a standard sequential slide navigation, we design a menu style navigation that allows you to preview the entire

experience beforehand so that you know where you are within it at all times.

And we also use the cursor to reduce the disorientation that happens when sections change. It guides your eye

sections change. It guides your eye through the transition so you know where to look next.

And lastly, we indicate lesson completion by designing in a very clear moment of closure like this.

All right, lesson three, the artifact Pokemon. In the early 2000s, there was a rise of products that extended digital experiences into the real world. Like Pokemon, who took

real world. Like Pokemon, who took something that began on a Game Boy and extended it into an entire ecosystem of trading cards, toys, handbooks, and tournaments. By creating reasons for

tournaments. By creating reasons for people to connect in the real world, the brand became woven into their everyday lives. It didn't just build a product

lives. It didn't just build a product that people could play. It built a world that it could that they could participate in.

So, what's the lesson?

Technology should activate reality, not replace it.

Most products today replace real world behavior. Yeah,

behavior. Yeah, most products today replace real world behaviors with digital approximations of them. We consume community instead of

them. We consume community instead of participating in it. We watch

experiences instead of having them. And

we signal identity instead of developing it. But technology should be the bridge

it. But technology should be the bridge that help people engage more deeply with reality by encouraging action beyond the screen.

Here's how companies are applying that.

Strava does this for runners and cyclists. Their app doesn't just track

cyclists. Their app doesn't just track movement, but it turns the physical world into a social interface and encourages their users to move through their city. And people even began

their city. And people even began creating Strava art by completing routes that trace giant drawings across the map. These are the weird human things

map. These are the weird human things that start happening when technology gives people a chance to interact with reality.

Tinder's also an interesting example.

Most dating apps trap users into an exhausting loop of swiping, matching, messaging disappearing and reappearing. But Tinder responded to the

reappearing. But Tinder responded to the swipe fatigue by announcing in March that even amid a broader push to announcing uh AI powered matching features. They also announced in-person

features. They also announced in-person events which tells us something that even Tinder is realizing that better digital matching is not enough. The real

product problem is the handoff between possibility and reality. Because an app can create the feeling of connection, but an event can create the actual conditions for real connection to

happen.

And here's how we're activating reality in the lifestyle lab. In the video game, players move to an intentional community where they form relationships, navigate daily life, and participate in the culture of the town. But the game

doesn't just simulate better ways of living. It translates them into real

living. It translates them into real life. One of the mechanics of the game

life. One of the mechanics of the game is co-l livingiving, where players move in with roommates. Hold on, let me take you there.

Okay, we're here.

Um, players learn to share a space, coordinate chores, communicate needs, and build systems that allow the household to function smoothly. But

learning doesn't just stay in the game.

Players unlock the real world version of that system that they can use with their actual roommates. So, as their avatar

actual roommates. So, as their avatar levels up in the game, so do they in real life.

Lesson four, the artifact. Animal Crossing.

the artifact. Animal Crossing.

Yeah.

Animal Crossing was built to mirror the cadence of real life. It used the console's internal clock. So, if it was morning in your life, it was morning in the game. And if it was winter outside,

the game. And if it was winter outside, it was winter in your town. Stores

closed and characters went to sleep, which meant that at times there was just less to do. And those limits created natural stopping points that let the players go. And Nintendo could design

players go. And Nintendo could design that way because the business model wasn't based on monetizing engagement.

They had already been paid when you bought the game. So instead of designing for retention, they were free to design for anticipation.

So what's the lesson? If it requires attention, engagement starts driving the product.

Most tech products today are built with an anxious attachment style. constantly

afraid that you'll leave, using fear tactics and manipulation to keep you trapped. But healthy technology is built

trapped. But healthy technology is built with a secure attachment style, confident that your users will come back because of the value that you create.

The challenge is that even when designers want to build healthier experiences, the business model is often pulling in the opposite direction. But

when the success of your business is tied to the success of your user, the design can start moving in the same direction. Here's how companies are

direction. Here's how companies are applying that. Pinterest recently

applying that. Pinterest recently launched the slogan, uh, sorry, Pinterest recently launched a campaign around the slogan, "The best thing you can find online is a reason to go

offline." That's a pretty radical

offline." That's a pretty radical statement for a tech company to make, especially one whose business model is based on ad revenue. How can they remain commercially successful by telling their

users to go offline? Well, Pinterest's

answer to that is to shorten the distance between inspiration and action.

Because left unchecked, inspiration can become a form of entertainment in itself. An endless collection of recipes

itself. An endless collection of recipes never cooked and projects never started.

But a backyard mood board isn't valuable because it was collected. It's valuable

because someone bought the twinkle lights, set the table, and invited their friends over. But Pinterest doesn't have

friends over. But Pinterest doesn't have to keep their users online forever in order to remain commercially successful.

If they can help someone find the right idea faster, buy what they need with less friction, and spend more time actually living the idea than searching

for it, then both sides win.

Time Left organizes curated dinners between strangers, but instead of selling one-off tickets, they move toward a subscription model. And this is not just a pricing model. This is what aligns their business success with their

users success. because TimeLife does

users success. because TimeLife does make more money with recurring subscriptions, but people also build better connections when they keep showing up. So again, both sides win.

showing up. So again, both sides win.

And they've taken this one step further by diversifying their revenue through brand partnerships built around social connection. This is important because it

connection. This is important because it means that the business can grow by creating more opportunities for people to connect in real life, not just by charging the user more.

And at the Lifestyle Lab, our challenge was how do we keep the game accessible for the people that it was built for without building a business model that depends on keeping them trapped inside?

Because our goal is to help players practice skills that they can use outside the game. So designing a business spent around the time spent in the game would be working against our goal. So instead of asking how do we

goal. So instead of asking how do we monetize the user, we asked who else benefits when our users learn these skills?

Well, schools benefit when students are better prepared for the future.

Workplaces benefit when teams are more organized. And communities benefit when

organized. And communities benefit when their members are have more practical tools for living, communicating, and supporting each other. So instead of making our user carry the cost, we built

our model around the institutions that benefit from our users growth. That way

our revenue doesn't have to come from extracting our user. It comes from the value created when the user becomes more capable. Because that's the thing, our

capable. Because that's the thing, our business model decides what our product is free to become. And if the success of our business is dependent on our users

becoming more capable, then serving our user becomes how our company survives.

In the last four lessons, we learned to embed clarity, to provide orientation,

to activate reality, and to serve our users.

As designers, we are responsible for creating the conditions of our shared reality. Every product in this room

reality. Every product in this room shapes how people spend their time, move through the world, and connect to each other and themselves. So, if we want to build a reality where our users are

cared for, we have to integrate these principles into how we build.

Because the companies that succeed in the next generation of technology won't be the ones that fight to steal the most attention. They'll be the ones that earn

attention. They'll be the ones that earn the return. Thank you.

the return. Thank you.