After reflecting on the conclusion of The Boys season four, it became time to shift our focus back to its surprisingly good, and dare we say even better, spin-off series, Gen V.
Season two had a lot to build upon, especially considering the cliffhanger that season one left us with: Homelander ruining the fun and Billy Butcher pursuing the Supe-killing virus. While the series retained some elements that fans have come to love and appreciate more than its predecessor, season two showed signs of senioritis, suggesting that a series known for satirizing the management of other superhero franchises and their overflowing release schedules can’t monkey-see, monkey-do its way into mimicry.
Liked: Tribute to Chance Perdomo
When cast member Chance Pedromo passed away, many fans questioned how Gen V would address the character of Andre Anderson. Instead of recasting the role, the showrunners chose to honor Perdomo by incorporating his character’s off-screen sacrifice into the storyline, making it the driving force behind the ensemble. Although this approach could have been clumsy, it ultimately resulted in a stronger narrative.
Not only did it closely resemble Ryan Coogler’s approach to addressing the passing of Chadwick Boseman in Black Panther 2, but it also highlighted a glaring blind spot in the shared mythology of both The Boys and Gen V: despite the presence of superpowered beings and the rise of fascism, racism persists, and having superpowers does not exempt one from being viewed as disposable by those in power.
It’s a delicate line to walk, but the show succeeded by illustrating that the powers that be at Vought are no different from any other fascist regime. Andre served as a significant catalyst throughout the season, with characters donning his hoodie and reminding others of his light, becoming a poignant high point in an otherwise lackluster season.
Liked: Hamish Linklater’s scene-stealing performance as Cipher
Being the new headmaster at God U, especially amid the looming threat of Homelander, required a commanding presence to rival the menace of that insecure, overpowered man-baby. Casting Hamish Linklater as Cipher in Gen V was a sensational decision. In a meta sense, it made perfect sense to have Linklater in this role, especially considering his recent subdued yet charismatic portrayal of Batman in Batman: Caped Crusader, which cleverly folded into the character’s mythos. And fans of Midnight Mass know that he has the power to convince anyone of anything with his monologues, regardless of their length. He truly has a way with words.
In this season of Gen V, Linklater’s performance as Cipher acted as a stimulus to the show’s quality while cranking the dial to 11 on the scale of villains you definitely don’t want to mess with in The Boys universe. His unnerving portrayal combined elements of Kilgrave from Jessica Jones with a heavy-handed dash of quirky Gen V humor and quips, elevating every scene he was in and stealing moments of the spotlight. It’s unfortunate that the show took some of the momentum away from his character toward the finale. We’ll discuss that later.
Liked: Emma addressing her body dysmorphia
Emma had a tough break last season. Her powers to grow and shrink intrinsically tied into her body dysmorphia, and she basically ended up being the butt of the joke for everyone on campus. While she was off on her own side quest, the rest of the gang did their thing, converging every so often. That meant Emma got some much-needed character development to address the elephant in the room: her powers, their harmful triggers, and how to try to overcome them. In a show all about gross-out moments, it was nice to see this handled with a modicum of maturity and a deft hand, even as her antics this season were no less madcap than last. More of this, and less of that going-nowhere-fast love-triangle subplot, please.
Liked: The on-the-ground approach to The Boys‘ political anarchy
With the ever-expanding parody of our political landscape that The Boys represents, it’s refreshing to see its aftereffects and consequences from the ground level. This was one of the qualities that made season one of Gen V a welcome companion to The Boys. Gen V is not bound by source material, allowing it more freedom to explore themes without being confined to the mean-spirited plot developments typical of The Boys, which often boil down to someone being a sex pest and viewers having to watch how in exhaustive detail.
Gen V feels more thoughtful about its direction, pulling at your heartstrings and engaging your mind, rather than relying on a gross-out punchline that you have to brace yourself for because you know it’s coming. While The Boys often draws direct political parallels that sometimes feel like throwaway Saturday Night Live sketches, Gen V offers a more humorous perspective on the ramifications of Homelander’s overt fascism and its impact on the students at God U. The exploration of power dynamics between superpowered and non-superpowered students, along with the propaganda disseminated online and on campus, added an intriguing depth to what could otherwise have been a shallow direction for the season.
Liked: Jordan and Marie’s love story
We’re not made of stone! This budding relationship was hecking cute. Seeing them go from the kind of offhand, reluctant allies to close partners (and exes) was a pleasant bit of levity to witness in the show. Plus, seeing how their bond grew, even when they were literally pitted against each other in a school-approved superpowered fight with all the microaggressions (and aggression aggressions) lambasted at them for being who they are, was good shit. We love the tenderness that Jaz Sinclair, London Thor, and Derek Luh brought to these characters and eagerly await the fix-it fanfiction that’s no doubt being written as we speak.
Didn’t like: The unimpressive fights
It’s a pretty bad sign for a superhero show when you can comfortably look away to futz around on your phone whenever bouts of fisticuffs are on display and feel like you’re not missing much. For whatever reason, this season of Gen V lacked the sauce to make any of its fights feel like they were worth watching. Some dude gets shoved, hands are outstretched to, you guessed it, push more guys, and occasionally there will be copious amounts of blood.
It’s not that the show engendered desensitization to it all; it just looked a bit like a cheap afterthought in its presentation this season. It can sometimes feel like the show forgot that being the teen-forward CW version of The Boys doesn’t mean it has to look like it’s operating on a shoestring budget, cutting corners to make its action look worth the sliding-scale fee Prime Video is charging subscribers (with ads!).
Didn’t like: The uneven pacing
Being the second season of a show that spins off a series nearing its conclusion, unfortunately, means that Gen V‘s more methodical pacing from the previous season—characterized by gradually building mysteries—felt rushed this time around. While it’s understandable that The Boys can seem a bit rapid in its scene transitions as it approaches its climax, the quickened pace of Gen V diluted character development and weakened the overall viewing experience. Instead of focusing on its own storylines, it seemed to prioritize adding intrigue for The Boys, ultimately hurrying through its own narrative without fully resolving the plot points it introduced well.
At first, it made its characters feel pragmatic, almost to the point of voicing every possible contingency in their hastily made plans, as if they were battle-hardened, to avoid their plot against God U gong awry. But with each passing episode, it started to feel less like the shrewdness of the ensemble and more like the writers’ room laying everything bare on the table for things to either go south or just as planned, as a way not to try to explore them fully.
As a result, people wound up exactly where they’re supposed to be. Even when things went kaput, our heroes were allowed to just… leave and reconvene later to decide what to do. Any sense of stakes this season with the Gen V cast felt all but moot; instead, the main objective seemed to be helping The Boys carry the baton to its series finale, and that sucked.
Didn’t like: That whole Cipher switcheroo
As mentioned up top, Cipher is a cool concept for a character from top to bottom. Having the power to body-snatch anyone as if he were a protagonist in Quantic Dream’s The Nomad Soul is some scary stuff, and Linklater’s performance added to the weight of his imposing presence.
All respect to SpongeBob Broadway actor, Ariana Grande’s beau, and Wicked star Ethan Slater, but the reveal that he was actually Cipher the entire time completely took all the air out of the room. He’s an entirely different character when Slater shows up. Gone are the playful, catty quips, and all we’re left with is a kind of dorky guy trying to seem imposing, but he’s clearly not that guy. Generational aura loss, as the kids say.
Didn’t like: Clunky dialogue and humor skewing more toward The Boys’ worst bits
Let’s be honest for a moment: The Boys‘ brand of humor is one short walk away from being Deadpool‘s, and not in the good way. They’re the kind of juvenile jokes that, once you’re subjected to them, don’t improve with a revisit. And sure, while comedy is subjective, the dissonance of edgy high school humor sliding out of the mouths of grown ass adults always makes The Boys feel a bit off and unserious. Gen V, with its school setting, makes its crass jokes feel a bit more at home because its shock-humor antics require less suspension of disbelief from the audience.
But for whatever reason, the types of jokes this season started to lose their armor, garnering either a cheap pity chuckle at the desperate attempt to be funny or no pop at all from viewers. It also didn’t help that this season suffered from “people don’t talk like that,” with a majority of its ensemble’s would-be funny men making the long walk to their jokes not worth suffering through.
Didn’t Like: The late-stage MCU-ification of Gen V
As we’ve expunged exhaustively at this point, Gen V‘s second season felt like The Boys crew finally buckled from talking out of both sides of their mouths about Marvel and DC Comics’ incessant need to franchise-build—all while showing signs of the same lackluster result. This time around, Gen V felt less like a refreshing offshoot and more like an episodic trailer to get folks hyped for the tentpole extravaganza that is The Boys.
We saw a lot of cameos around where The Boys characters were tantamount to TV bumpers advertising another show airing after the one you’re currently watching, rather than actually enriching the plot. It will be really embarrassing if the show isn’t picked up for a third season after spending so much time trying to beef up hype for The Boys‘ series finale. But honestly, what would be the point, since the narrative railroad for Gen V feels like it has effectively run out of track to continue on after however the hell The Boys wraps up? Watch the space, we guess.
Gen V season two is now streaming on Prime Video. The fifth and final season of The Boys arrives in 2026.
Want more io9 news? Check out when to expect the latest Marvel, Star Wars, and Star Trek releases, what’s next for the DC Universe on film and TV, and everything you need to know about the future of Doctor Who.
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![Inside the London hacker house taking a stand against founder burnout | TechCrunch
Six twentysomethings in East London have built what they say is the anti-San Francisco hacker house. The goal is a “holistic improvement in life,” rather than “12 weeks, Demo Day is coming,” Rowan Aldean, 26, explained.
Intrigued, I spent an afternoon visiting the house, meeting its residents, and doing a vibe check. I arrived after Aldean escorted me through the clean sidewalks of a new East London development to where the six-story building stood facing the water.
The house is called the London Island Founder House — or “Lift House” — and Aldean and his wife, Zahraa, 22, an upcoming pharmaceutical research PhD candidate, have lived there since May, just a few months after it officially launched in March. Aldean sold his previous company last year for millions, he said, and now runs an “applied AI” startup that helps companies learn how to deploy agents.
Like all hacker houses, Lift House is part startup workspace, part co-living space. The house is named after both its lift — that is, its elevator — and its mission to uplift tech founders, Aldean said. It’s one of the very few co-living hacker houses to exist in London (compared to San Francisco, where dozens — if not hundreds — are scattered around the city at any given time).
Lift House is a bet that U.K. founders can build successful companies without mimicking the over-the-top hustle culture of Silicon Valley.
Founders have described stories of San Francisco hacker houses illegally running in warehouses, throwing full-on galas, or setting up in a tent or espousing punishing, 72-hour sprints typical of the “996” work culture.
“I don’t expect the performative and over-the-top events will be a thing here,” Aldean said, and pointed to one of London’s most successful AI companies, DeepMind. “They’ve won Nobel prizes and built frontier innovation without any song and dance.”
Instead, Lift House is part of a trend called “Londonmaxxing,” in which founders attempt to optimize everything the London tech scene offers. The London ecosystem feels less showy and less startup bro-y than San Francisco, but its founders share similar ambitions: success, wealth, and market domination. London AI startups have raised billion so far in 2026, out of .7 billion raised by all London startups, according to Dealroom. Six companies have raised more than 0 million: Wayve, Superintelligence, ElevenLabs, Recursive, Ineffable Intelligence, and Isomorphic Labs, the latter three of which were founded by DeepMind alumni. The excitement from AI has boosted the morale of the U.K. tech scene, inspiring a new generation of founders, like those in the Lift House, to take big swings.
LIFT TourImage Credits:TechCrunch
Journaling vs. demo day
The timeline for living on Lift House is flexible — some people have stayed for a month; others intend to stay for at least six months. They buy their own groceries, Aldean said, although they often cook together and share ingredients. Cleaning is split among the group. Everyone declined to share information about the rent they pay.
The residents of Lift House aim for a balanced approach toward ambition, each one of them tells me — an almost unheard-of idea by San Francisco startup standards.
On Sundays, the group will journal together, a practice introduced by David Amor, 28, who runs a brain coaching and training company, helping founders and business leaders understand more about their brain and how it can help optimize business performance. The idea of journaling is to help everyone track how much time they spent in nature that week, how well they ate, and how much they moved their bodies.
“I’m eating healthier, working out more, and sleeping more,” Luke, 27, who runs an AI-marketing company, said about living in the house. “I always make sure to have lunch now, which is something that is simple, but I wasn’t doing before I lived here.” (Luke asked that his last name be withheld.) Tuesdays evenings are for volleyball, where the founders play on the house team in a local league.
After dinner on other evenings, Wan Ying L, 25, who just left an AI startup and is working on a new idea, might play the piano in the living room. Sometimes the group plays Catan or visits art exhibitions together.
Presence Plumb, 25, is a tech strategist. She likes to host rooftop dinner parties, serving dishes that reflect the different nationalities in the house — from Iraqi to Spanish — while invited founders, researchers, investors, and operators chat about tech trends and investments.
“It’s a bit calmer, balanced, authentic in a way,” she said of people in the London ecosystem. “They don’t want too much of that only startup tech bro vibe. They want a bit of balance.”
Each founder follows their own schedules for a typical workday. Amor, for example, is up by 8 a.m. and gives himself exactly 30 seconds after waking up before jumping into his morning work. “I have a clear objective of ‘this is what I want to do in the first half of the day, when there’s no distractions.’” After his morning work routine, he takes a cold shower, “because it increases your dopamine by 250% and that gives me that motivation, that spark,” he said.
Wan playing the pianoImage Credits:TechCrunch
Luke, meanwhile, is up at around 8:30. His co-founder, Varun, 27 (who asked that his last name be withheld), typically travels to the Lift House to co-work, and the duo starts work at around 9 a.m. with a team call.
Aldean rarely wakes before 10 a.m. unless something big is happening, like a “crazy angel [investor] call,” he said. When asked what makes this house uniquely British rather than a wellness-focused Silicon Valley founder house, Aldean joked: “Well, we drink tea together like Brits, and in SF folks just drink filtered coffee.” More seriously, he spoke of how British founders face a different kind of pressure than those in the U.S. They must navigate a cultural aversion to risk, an inclination toward humility, and a shame associated with failure. Instead of forgoing sleep for hustle and grind, they deal with what they call the “tall poppy syndrome,” when the media builds one up only to ruthlessly tear them down should they become too successful, investors and founders say. It makes some founders in the ecosystem wary of displaying too many wins.
Still, Luke said London is a strong choice for an early-stage founder: There’s a good network, ample early capital opportunities, and an option for a life outside of tech. In many ways, it is much more like New York culturally for founders than in San Francisco.
“London is so diverse that if you look properly enough, you’ll always find something fun to get involved with,” Amor added, “whether that’s a founder-run club, wellness events, [or going] to jazz nights.”
Luke and Varun write marketing terms on the whiteboard. They stand for top of funnel (TOFU), middle of funnel (MOFU), and bottom of funnel (BOFU).Image Credits:TechCrunch
Luke and Varun largely avoided venture capital funding by taking advantage of the U.K. government’s SEIS/EIS, which is supposed to help attract more angel investments into local startups. “There’s people who will pay basically the same rate of tax if they give us the money versus if they pay income tax,” Luke explained as another reason he liked starting out in London.
Aldean also feels the London ecosystem is less cutthroat than the Valley. He recalls his days living in a hacker house in the Bay — everyone’s desk had to face the wall, and it was heads-down, product-building. He felt the ecosystem, at times, was too willing to gossip, which is apparently done quite differently in the U.K.
“There’s nothing like ‘oh my god did you hear that the CTO just, like, did this,’” Aldean said. “It’s like you’re always worried,” he said, that someone would spread negative stories, especially if it benefited them.
Aldean also thinks London startups, more than Silicon Valley ones, sell into slow-moving large corporations rather than to each other, meaning one could build without having to kiss up or posture to get their peers to like them.
To the selling point, Varun and Luke mentioned another difference between the U.S. and U.K. ecosystem. “It’s a relatively fleeting market,” Varun said of the U.S. “You get quick wins. Here, it’s hard to close a customer, but if they close, they stay with you longer.”
Coming to America
Eventually, though, the road for many U.K. startups goes straight to the U.S.
In the U.K., founders have access to affordable top talent from universities like Oxbridge and a time zone that makes it easier to work with the rest of Europe, the Middle East, Asia, and parts of North America. In the U.S., however, they have access to the world’s largest economy and, most importantly, a lot of investors willing to write large checks, from pre-seed to growth stages.
“It’s almost like a factory line in a way,” Varun said. “You start here, and then you expand there or vice versa.”
American investors are also playing a role in luring British talent away from the country. I told the Lift House residents about one startup founder who said a top investor wouldn’t even back the company unless she relocated to the U.S. She ended up doing so, though decided to keep her family based in the U.K. to raise her children.
“We had an investor in Miami who said the same thing,” Luke said of an investor trying to get him and Varun to move to the U.S. “It’s quite a common practice.” He and Varun have already begun their U.S. expansion, and despite loving London, the duo hasn’t ruled out moving to the U.S. to be closer to their customers.
David, who has a brain coaching startup, is the one who introduced journaling into the household. Image Credits:TechCrunch
That’s the tension bubbling beneath not just the U.K.’s tech ecosystem but most of Europe’s. “I work with a lot of people trying to support the European ecosystem more,” Plumb said.
Yet, founders “talk about London; everyone is bullish on the country until they get the opportunity to leave,” Aldean added.
The Lift House lease has about a year left, and there is sentiment in the house to keep it going for as long as they can. After all, there aren’t too many in London, though the city sees many short-term gatherings, like the Solana Hacker House meet-up series. Some of the more public co-living hacker houses are part of a global chain, like the San Francisco-based network The Residency, which expanded into London last year, and BaseJump, which is announcing a London version of its hacker house program soon.
In 2024, two founders tried the opposite version of the Lift House called “The London Founder House,” which Sifted covered under the headline “The people here don’t want work-life balance.” That home is noted as London’s first-ever hacker house, and though it wound down last year, it left an influence through its concept, events, and connected players around the ecosystem. To even be considered for the London Founder House, one had to have raised at least half a million dollars.
For Lift House, prospective residents need to show a hobby outside their companies and an interest in fitness. It’s the same pitch many in the Londonmaxxing ecosystem are using to keep people from leaving: That here one can have it all.
“The culture is to build something that lasts,” Aldean said, “not necessarily burn out chasing a flash.”
When you purchase through links in our articles, we may earn a small commission. This doesn’t affect our editorial independence.#London #hacker #house #stand #founder #burnout #TechCrunchLondon,UK](https://techcrunch.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/07/LIFT-tour-2.jpg?w=680 "Inside the London hacker house taking a stand against founder burnout | TechCrunch
Six twentysomethings in East London have built what they say is the anti-San Francisco hacker house. The goal is a “holistic improvement in life,” rather than “12 weeks, Demo Day is coming,” Rowan Aldean, 26, explained.
Intrigued, I spent an afternoon visiting the house, meeting its residents, and doing a vibe check. I arrived after Aldean escorted me through the clean sidewalks of a new East London development to where the six-story building stood facing the water.
The house is called the London Island Founder House — or “Lift House” — and Aldean and his wife, Zahraa, 22, an upcoming pharmaceutical research PhD candidate, have lived there since May, just a few months after it officially launched in March. Aldean sold his previous company last year for millions, he said, and now runs an “applied AI” startup that helps companies learn how to deploy agents.
Like all hacker houses, Lift House is part startup workspace, part co-living space. The house is named after both its lift — that is, its elevator — and its mission to uplift tech founders, Aldean said. It’s one of the very few co-living hacker houses to exist in London (compared to San Francisco, where dozens — if not hundreds — are scattered around the city at any given time).
Lift House is a bet that U.K. founders can build successful companies without mimicking the over-the-top hustle culture of Silicon Valley.
Founders have described stories of San Francisco hacker houses illegally running in warehouses, throwing full-on galas, or setting up in a tent or espousing punishing, 72-hour sprints typical of the “996” work culture.
“I don’t expect the performative and over-the-top events will be a thing here,” Aldean said, and pointed to one of London’s most successful AI companies, DeepMind. “They’ve won Nobel prizes and built frontier innovation without any song and dance.”
Instead, Lift House is part of a trend called “Londonmaxxing,” in which founders attempt to optimize everything the London tech scene offers. The London ecosystem feels less showy and less startup bro-y than San Francisco, but its founders share similar ambitions: success, wealth, and market domination. London AI startups have raised billion so far in 2026, out of .7 billion raised by all London startups, according to Dealroom. Six companies have raised more than 0 million: Wayve, Superintelligence, ElevenLabs, Recursive, Ineffable Intelligence, and Isomorphic Labs, the latter three of which were founded by DeepMind alumni. The excitement from AI has boosted the morale of the U.K. tech scene, inspiring a new generation of founders, like those in the Lift House, to take big swings.
LIFT TourImage Credits:TechCrunch
Journaling vs. demo day
The timeline for living on Lift House is flexible — some people have stayed for a month; others intend to stay for at least six months. They buy their own groceries, Aldean said, although they often cook together and share ingredients. Cleaning is split among the group. Everyone declined to share information about the rent they pay.
The residents of Lift House aim for a balanced approach toward ambition, each one of them tells me — an almost unheard-of idea by San Francisco startup standards.
On Sundays, the group will journal together, a practice introduced by David Amor, 28, who runs a brain coaching and training company, helping founders and business leaders understand more about their brain and how it can help optimize business performance. The idea of journaling is to help everyone track how much time they spent in nature that week, how well they ate, and how much they moved their bodies.
“I’m eating healthier, working out more, and sleeping more,” Luke, 27, who runs an AI-marketing company, said about living in the house. “I always make sure to have lunch now, which is something that is simple, but I wasn’t doing before I lived here.” (Luke asked that his last name be withheld.) Tuesdays evenings are for volleyball, where the founders play on the house team in a local league.
After dinner on other evenings, Wan Ying L, 25, who just left an AI startup and is working on a new idea, might play the piano in the living room. Sometimes the group plays Catan or visits art exhibitions together.
Presence Plumb, 25, is a tech strategist. She likes to host rooftop dinner parties, serving dishes that reflect the different nationalities in the house — from Iraqi to Spanish — while invited founders, researchers, investors, and operators chat about tech trends and investments.
“It’s a bit calmer, balanced, authentic in a way,” she said of people in the London ecosystem. “They don’t want too much of that only startup tech bro vibe. They want a bit of balance.”
Each founder follows their own schedules for a typical workday. Amor, for example, is up by 8 a.m. and gives himself exactly 30 seconds after waking up before jumping into his morning work. “I have a clear objective of ‘this is what I want to do in the first half of the day, when there’s no distractions.’” After his morning work routine, he takes a cold shower, “because it increases your dopamine by 250% and that gives me that motivation, that spark,” he said.
Wan playing the pianoImage Credits:TechCrunch
Luke, meanwhile, is up at around 8:30. His co-founder, Varun, 27 (who asked that his last name be withheld), typically travels to the Lift House to co-work, and the duo starts work at around 9 a.m. with a team call.
Aldean rarely wakes before 10 a.m. unless something big is happening, like a “crazy angel [investor] call,” he said. When asked what makes this house uniquely British rather than a wellness-focused Silicon Valley founder house, Aldean joked: “Well, we drink tea together like Brits, and in SF folks just drink filtered coffee.” More seriously, he spoke of how British founders face a different kind of pressure than those in the U.S. They must navigate a cultural aversion to risk, an inclination toward humility, and a shame associated with failure. Instead of forgoing sleep for hustle and grind, they deal with what they call the “tall poppy syndrome,” when the media builds one up only to ruthlessly tear them down should they become too successful, investors and founders say. It makes some founders in the ecosystem wary of displaying too many wins.
Still, Luke said London is a strong choice for an early-stage founder: There’s a good network, ample early capital opportunities, and an option for a life outside of tech. In many ways, it is much more like New York culturally for founders than in San Francisco.
“London is so diverse that if you look properly enough, you’ll always find something fun to get involved with,” Amor added, “whether that’s a founder-run club, wellness events, [or going] to jazz nights.”
Luke and Varun write marketing terms on the whiteboard. They stand for top of funnel (TOFU), middle of funnel (MOFU), and bottom of funnel (BOFU).Image Credits:TechCrunch
Luke and Varun largely avoided venture capital funding by taking advantage of the U.K. government’s SEIS/EIS, which is supposed to help attract more angel investments into local startups. “There’s people who will pay basically the same rate of tax if they give us the money versus if they pay income tax,” Luke explained as another reason he liked starting out in London.
Aldean also feels the London ecosystem is less cutthroat than the Valley. He recalls his days living in a hacker house in the Bay — everyone’s desk had to face the wall, and it was heads-down, product-building. He felt the ecosystem, at times, was too willing to gossip, which is apparently done quite differently in the U.K.
“There’s nothing like ‘oh my god did you hear that the CTO just, like, did this,’” Aldean said. “It’s like you’re always worried,” he said, that someone would spread negative stories, especially if it benefited them.
Aldean also thinks London startups, more than Silicon Valley ones, sell into slow-moving large corporations rather than to each other, meaning one could build without having to kiss up or posture to get their peers to like them.
To the selling point, Varun and Luke mentioned another difference between the U.S. and U.K. ecosystem. “It’s a relatively fleeting market,” Varun said of the U.S. “You get quick wins. Here, it’s hard to close a customer, but if they close, they stay with you longer.”
Coming to America
Eventually, though, the road for many U.K. startups goes straight to the U.S.
In the U.K., founders have access to affordable top talent from universities like Oxbridge and a time zone that makes it easier to work with the rest of Europe, the Middle East, Asia, and parts of North America. In the U.S., however, they have access to the world’s largest economy and, most importantly, a lot of investors willing to write large checks, from pre-seed to growth stages.
“It’s almost like a factory line in a way,” Varun said. “You start here, and then you expand there or vice versa.”
American investors are also playing a role in luring British talent away from the country. I told the Lift House residents about one startup founder who said a top investor wouldn’t even back the company unless she relocated to the U.S. She ended up doing so, though decided to keep her family based in the U.K. to raise her children.
“We had an investor in Miami who said the same thing,” Luke said of an investor trying to get him and Varun to move to the U.S. “It’s quite a common practice.” He and Varun have already begun their U.S. expansion, and despite loving London, the duo hasn’t ruled out moving to the U.S. to be closer to their customers.
David, who has a brain coaching startup, is the one who introduced journaling into the household. Image Credits:TechCrunch
That’s the tension bubbling beneath not just the U.K.’s tech ecosystem but most of Europe’s. “I work with a lot of people trying to support the European ecosystem more,” Plumb said.
Yet, founders “talk about London; everyone is bullish on the country until they get the opportunity to leave,” Aldean added.
The Lift House lease has about a year left, and there is sentiment in the house to keep it going for as long as they can. After all, there aren’t too many in London, though the city sees many short-term gatherings, like the Solana Hacker House meet-up series. Some of the more public co-living hacker houses are part of a global chain, like the San Francisco-based network The Residency, which expanded into London last year, and BaseJump, which is announcing a London version of its hacker house program soon.
In 2024, two founders tried the opposite version of the Lift House called “The London Founder House,” which Sifted covered under the headline “The people here don’t want work-life balance.” That home is noted as London’s first-ever hacker house, and though it wound down last year, it left an influence through its concept, events, and connected players around the ecosystem. To even be considered for the London Founder House, one had to have raised at least half a million dollars.
For Lift House, prospective residents need to show a hobby outside their companies and an interest in fitness. It’s the same pitch many in the Londonmaxxing ecosystem are using to keep people from leaving: That here one can have it all.
“The culture is to build something that lasts,” Aldean said, “not necessarily burn out chasing a flash.”
When you purchase through links in our articles, we may earn a small commission. This doesn’t affect our editorial independence.#London #hacker #house #stand #founder #burnout #TechCrunchLondon,UK")
![Inside the London hacker house taking a stand against founder burnout | TechCrunch
Six twentysomethings in East London have built what they say is the anti-San Francisco hacker house. The goal is a “holistic improvement in life,” rather than “12 weeks, Demo Day is coming,” Rowan Aldean, 26, explained.
Intrigued, I spent an afternoon visiting the house, meeting its residents, and doing a vibe check. I arrived after Aldean escorted me through the clean sidewalks of a new East London development to where the six-story building stood facing the water.
The house is called the London Island Founder House — or “Lift House” — and Aldean and his wife, Zahraa, 22, an upcoming pharmaceutical research PhD candidate, have lived there since May, just a few months after it officially launched in March. Aldean sold his previous company last year for millions, he said, and now runs an “applied AI” startup that helps companies learn how to deploy agents.
Like all hacker houses, Lift House is part startup workspace, part co-living space. The house is named after both its lift — that is, its elevator — and its mission to uplift tech founders, Aldean said. It’s one of the very few co-living hacker houses to exist in London (compared to San Francisco, where dozens — if not hundreds — are scattered around the city at any given time).
Lift House is a bet that U.K. founders can build successful companies without mimicking the over-the-top hustle culture of Silicon Valley.
Founders have described stories of San Francisco hacker houses illegally running in warehouses, throwing full-on galas, or setting up in a tent or espousing punishing, 72-hour sprints typical of the “996” work culture.
“I don’t expect the performative and over-the-top events will be a thing here,” Aldean said, and pointed to one of London’s most successful AI companies, DeepMind. “They’ve won Nobel prizes and built frontier innovation without any song and dance.”
Instead, Lift House is part of a trend called “Londonmaxxing,” in which founders attempt to optimize everything the London tech scene offers. The London ecosystem feels less showy and less startup bro-y than San Francisco, but its founders share similar ambitions: success, wealth, and market domination. London AI startups have raised billion so far in 2026, out of .7 billion raised by all London startups, according to Dealroom. Six companies have raised more than 0 million: Wayve, Superintelligence, ElevenLabs, Recursive, Ineffable Intelligence, and Isomorphic Labs, the latter three of which were founded by DeepMind alumni. The excitement from AI has boosted the morale of the U.K. tech scene, inspiring a new generation of founders, like those in the Lift House, to take big swings.
LIFT TourImage Credits:TechCrunch
Journaling vs. demo day
The timeline for living on Lift House is flexible — some people have stayed for a month; others intend to stay for at least six months. They buy their own groceries, Aldean said, although they often cook together and share ingredients. Cleaning is split among the group. Everyone declined to share information about the rent they pay.
The residents of Lift House aim for a balanced approach toward ambition, each one of them tells me — an almost unheard-of idea by San Francisco startup standards.
On Sundays, the group will journal together, a practice introduced by David Amor, 28, who runs a brain coaching and training company, helping founders and business leaders understand more about their brain and how it can help optimize business performance. The idea of journaling is to help everyone track how much time they spent in nature that week, how well they ate, and how much they moved their bodies.
“I’m eating healthier, working out more, and sleeping more,” Luke, 27, who runs an AI-marketing company, said about living in the house. “I always make sure to have lunch now, which is something that is simple, but I wasn’t doing before I lived here.” (Luke asked that his last name be withheld.) Tuesdays evenings are for volleyball, where the founders play on the house team in a local league.
After dinner on other evenings, Wan Ying L, 25, who just left an AI startup and is working on a new idea, might play the piano in the living room. Sometimes the group plays Catan or visits art exhibitions together.
Presence Plumb, 25, is a tech strategist. She likes to host rooftop dinner parties, serving dishes that reflect the different nationalities in the house — from Iraqi to Spanish — while invited founders, researchers, investors, and operators chat about tech trends and investments.
“It’s a bit calmer, balanced, authentic in a way,” she said of people in the London ecosystem. “They don’t want too much of that only startup tech bro vibe. They want a bit of balance.”
Each founder follows their own schedules for a typical workday. Amor, for example, is up by 8 a.m. and gives himself exactly 30 seconds after waking up before jumping into his morning work. “I have a clear objective of ‘this is what I want to do in the first half of the day, when there’s no distractions.’” After his morning work routine, he takes a cold shower, “because it increases your dopamine by 250% and that gives me that motivation, that spark,” he said.
Wan playing the pianoImage Credits:TechCrunch
Luke, meanwhile, is up at around 8:30. His co-founder, Varun, 27 (who asked that his last name be withheld), typically travels to the Lift House to co-work, and the duo starts work at around 9 a.m. with a team call.
Aldean rarely wakes before 10 a.m. unless something big is happening, like a “crazy angel [investor] call,” he said. When asked what makes this house uniquely British rather than a wellness-focused Silicon Valley founder house, Aldean joked: “Well, we drink tea together like Brits, and in SF folks just drink filtered coffee.” More seriously, he spoke of how British founders face a different kind of pressure than those in the U.S. They must navigate a cultural aversion to risk, an inclination toward humility, and a shame associated with failure. Instead of forgoing sleep for hustle and grind, they deal with what they call the “tall poppy syndrome,” when the media builds one up only to ruthlessly tear them down should they become too successful, investors and founders say. It makes some founders in the ecosystem wary of displaying too many wins.
Still, Luke said London is a strong choice for an early-stage founder: There’s a good network, ample early capital opportunities, and an option for a life outside of tech. In many ways, it is much more like New York culturally for founders than in San Francisco.
“London is so diverse that if you look properly enough, you’ll always find something fun to get involved with,” Amor added, “whether that’s a founder-run club, wellness events, [or going] to jazz nights.”
Luke and Varun write marketing terms on the whiteboard. They stand for top of funnel (TOFU), middle of funnel (MOFU), and bottom of funnel (BOFU).Image Credits:TechCrunch
Luke and Varun largely avoided venture capital funding by taking advantage of the U.K. government’s SEIS/EIS, which is supposed to help attract more angel investments into local startups. “There’s people who will pay basically the same rate of tax if they give us the money versus if they pay income tax,” Luke explained as another reason he liked starting out in London.
Aldean also feels the London ecosystem is less cutthroat than the Valley. He recalls his days living in a hacker house in the Bay — everyone’s desk had to face the wall, and it was heads-down, product-building. He felt the ecosystem, at times, was too willing to gossip, which is apparently done quite differently in the U.K.
“There’s nothing like ‘oh my god did you hear that the CTO just, like, did this,’” Aldean said. “It’s like you’re always worried,” he said, that someone would spread negative stories, especially if it benefited them.
Aldean also thinks London startups, more than Silicon Valley ones, sell into slow-moving large corporations rather than to each other, meaning one could build without having to kiss up or posture to get their peers to like them.
To the selling point, Varun and Luke mentioned another difference between the U.S. and U.K. ecosystem. “It’s a relatively fleeting market,” Varun said of the U.S. “You get quick wins. Here, it’s hard to close a customer, but if they close, they stay with you longer.”
Coming to America
Eventually, though, the road for many U.K. startups goes straight to the U.S.
In the U.K., founders have access to affordable top talent from universities like Oxbridge and a time zone that makes it easier to work with the rest of Europe, the Middle East, Asia, and parts of North America. In the U.S., however, they have access to the world’s largest economy and, most importantly, a lot of investors willing to write large checks, from pre-seed to growth stages.
“It’s almost like a factory line in a way,” Varun said. “You start here, and then you expand there or vice versa.”
American investors are also playing a role in luring British talent away from the country. I told the Lift House residents about one startup founder who said a top investor wouldn’t even back the company unless she relocated to the U.S. She ended up doing so, though decided to keep her family based in the U.K. to raise her children.
“We had an investor in Miami who said the same thing,” Luke said of an investor trying to get him and Varun to move to the U.S. “It’s quite a common practice.” He and Varun have already begun their U.S. expansion, and despite loving London, the duo hasn’t ruled out moving to the U.S. to be closer to their customers.
David, who has a brain coaching startup, is the one who introduced journaling into the household. Image Credits:TechCrunch
That’s the tension bubbling beneath not just the U.K.’s tech ecosystem but most of Europe’s. “I work with a lot of people trying to support the European ecosystem more,” Plumb said.
Yet, founders “talk about London; everyone is bullish on the country until they get the opportunity to leave,” Aldean added.
The Lift House lease has about a year left, and there is sentiment in the house to keep it going for as long as they can. After all, there aren’t too many in London, though the city sees many short-term gatherings, like the Solana Hacker House meet-up series. Some of the more public co-living hacker houses are part of a global chain, like the San Francisco-based network The Residency, which expanded into London last year, and BaseJump, which is announcing a London version of its hacker house program soon.
In 2024, two founders tried the opposite version of the Lift House called “The London Founder House,” which Sifted covered under the headline “The people here don’t want work-life balance.” That home is noted as London’s first-ever hacker house, and though it wound down last year, it left an influence through its concept, events, and connected players around the ecosystem. To even be considered for the London Founder House, one had to have raised at least half a million dollars.
For Lift House, prospective residents need to show a hobby outside their companies and an interest in fitness. It’s the same pitch many in the Londonmaxxing ecosystem are using to keep people from leaving: That here one can have it all.
“The culture is to build something that lasts,” Aldean said, “not necessarily burn out chasing a flash.”
When you purchase through links in our articles, we may earn a small commission. This doesn’t affect our editorial independence.#London #hacker #house #stand #founder #burnout #TechCrunchLondon,UK](https://i3.wp.com/techcrunch.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/07/LIFT-tour-2.jpg?w=680&ssl=1 "Inside the London hacker house taking a stand against founder burnout | TechCrunch
Six twentysomethings in East London have built what they say is the anti-San Francisco hacker house. The goal is a “holistic improvement in life,” rather than “12 weeks, Demo Day is coming,” Rowan Aldean, 26, explained.
Intrigued, I spent an afternoon visiting the house, meeting its residents, and doing a vibe check. I arrived after Aldean escorted me through the clean sidewalks of a new East London development to where the six-story building stood facing the water.
The house is called the London Island Founder House — or “Lift House” — and Aldean and his wife, Zahraa, 22, an upcoming pharmaceutical research PhD candidate, have lived there since May, just a few months after it officially launched in March. Aldean sold his previous company last year for millions, he said, and now runs an “applied AI” startup that helps companies learn how to deploy agents.
Like all hacker houses, Lift House is part startup workspace, part co-living space. The house is named after both its lift — that is, its elevator — and its mission to uplift tech founders, Aldean said. It’s one of the very few co-living hacker houses to exist in London (compared to San Francisco, where dozens — if not hundreds — are scattered around the city at any given time).
Lift House is a bet that U.K. founders can build successful companies without mimicking the over-the-top hustle culture of Silicon Valley.
Founders have described stories of San Francisco hacker houses illegally running in warehouses, throwing full-on galas, or setting up in a tent or espousing punishing, 72-hour sprints typical of the “996” work culture.
“I don’t expect the performative and over-the-top events will be a thing here,” Aldean said, and pointed to one of London’s most successful AI companies, DeepMind. “They’ve won Nobel prizes and built frontier innovation without any song and dance.”
Instead, Lift House is part of a trend called “Londonmaxxing,” in which founders attempt to optimize everything the London tech scene offers. The London ecosystem feels less showy and less startup bro-y than San Francisco, but its founders share similar ambitions: success, wealth, and market domination. London AI startups have raised billion so far in 2026, out of .7 billion raised by all London startups, according to Dealroom. Six companies have raised more than 0 million: Wayve, Superintelligence, ElevenLabs, Recursive, Ineffable Intelligence, and Isomorphic Labs, the latter three of which were founded by DeepMind alumni. The excitement from AI has boosted the morale of the U.K. tech scene, inspiring a new generation of founders, like those in the Lift House, to take big swings.
LIFT TourImage Credits:TechCrunch
Journaling vs. demo day
The timeline for living on Lift House is flexible — some people have stayed for a month; others intend to stay for at least six months. They buy their own groceries, Aldean said, although they often cook together and share ingredients. Cleaning is split among the group. Everyone declined to share information about the rent they pay.
The residents of Lift House aim for a balanced approach toward ambition, each one of them tells me — an almost unheard-of idea by San Francisco startup standards.
On Sundays, the group will journal together, a practice introduced by David Amor, 28, who runs a brain coaching and training company, helping founders and business leaders understand more about their brain and how it can help optimize business performance. The idea of journaling is to help everyone track how much time they spent in nature that week, how well they ate, and how much they moved their bodies.
“I’m eating healthier, working out more, and sleeping more,” Luke, 27, who runs an AI-marketing company, said about living in the house. “I always make sure to have lunch now, which is something that is simple, but I wasn’t doing before I lived here.” (Luke asked that his last name be withheld.) Tuesdays evenings are for volleyball, where the founders play on the house team in a local league.
After dinner on other evenings, Wan Ying L, 25, who just left an AI startup and is working on a new idea, might play the piano in the living room. Sometimes the group plays Catan or visits art exhibitions together.
Presence Plumb, 25, is a tech strategist. She likes to host rooftop dinner parties, serving dishes that reflect the different nationalities in the house — from Iraqi to Spanish — while invited founders, researchers, investors, and operators chat about tech trends and investments.
“It’s a bit calmer, balanced, authentic in a way,” she said of people in the London ecosystem. “They don’t want too much of that only startup tech bro vibe. They want a bit of balance.”
Each founder follows their own schedules for a typical workday. Amor, for example, is up by 8 a.m. and gives himself exactly 30 seconds after waking up before jumping into his morning work. “I have a clear objective of ‘this is what I want to do in the first half of the day, when there’s no distractions.’” After his morning work routine, he takes a cold shower, “because it increases your dopamine by 250% and that gives me that motivation, that spark,” he said.
Wan playing the pianoImage Credits:TechCrunch
Luke, meanwhile, is up at around 8:30. His co-founder, Varun, 27 (who asked that his last name be withheld), typically travels to the Lift House to co-work, and the duo starts work at around 9 a.m. with a team call.
Aldean rarely wakes before 10 a.m. unless something big is happening, like a “crazy angel [investor] call,” he said. When asked what makes this house uniquely British rather than a wellness-focused Silicon Valley founder house, Aldean joked: “Well, we drink tea together like Brits, and in SF folks just drink filtered coffee.” More seriously, he spoke of how British founders face a different kind of pressure than those in the U.S. They must navigate a cultural aversion to risk, an inclination toward humility, and a shame associated with failure. Instead of forgoing sleep for hustle and grind, they deal with what they call the “tall poppy syndrome,” when the media builds one up only to ruthlessly tear them down should they become too successful, investors and founders say. It makes some founders in the ecosystem wary of displaying too many wins.
Still, Luke said London is a strong choice for an early-stage founder: There’s a good network, ample early capital opportunities, and an option for a life outside of tech. In many ways, it is much more like New York culturally for founders than in San Francisco.
“London is so diverse that if you look properly enough, you’ll always find something fun to get involved with,” Amor added, “whether that’s a founder-run club, wellness events, [or going] to jazz nights.”
Luke and Varun write marketing terms on the whiteboard. They stand for top of funnel (TOFU), middle of funnel (MOFU), and bottom of funnel (BOFU).Image Credits:TechCrunch
Luke and Varun largely avoided venture capital funding by taking advantage of the U.K. government’s SEIS/EIS, which is supposed to help attract more angel investments into local startups. “There’s people who will pay basically the same rate of tax if they give us the money versus if they pay income tax,” Luke explained as another reason he liked starting out in London.
Aldean also feels the London ecosystem is less cutthroat than the Valley. He recalls his days living in a hacker house in the Bay — everyone’s desk had to face the wall, and it was heads-down, product-building. He felt the ecosystem, at times, was too willing to gossip, which is apparently done quite differently in the U.K.
“There’s nothing like ‘oh my god did you hear that the CTO just, like, did this,’” Aldean said. “It’s like you’re always worried,” he said, that someone would spread negative stories, especially if it benefited them.
Aldean also thinks London startups, more than Silicon Valley ones, sell into slow-moving large corporations rather than to each other, meaning one could build without having to kiss up or posture to get their peers to like them.
To the selling point, Varun and Luke mentioned another difference between the U.S. and U.K. ecosystem. “It’s a relatively fleeting market,” Varun said of the U.S. “You get quick wins. Here, it’s hard to close a customer, but if they close, they stay with you longer.”
Coming to America
Eventually, though, the road for many U.K. startups goes straight to the U.S.
In the U.K., founders have access to affordable top talent from universities like Oxbridge and a time zone that makes it easier to work with the rest of Europe, the Middle East, Asia, and parts of North America. In the U.S., however, they have access to the world’s largest economy and, most importantly, a lot of investors willing to write large checks, from pre-seed to growth stages.
“It’s almost like a factory line in a way,” Varun said. “You start here, and then you expand there or vice versa.”
American investors are also playing a role in luring British talent away from the country. I told the Lift House residents about one startup founder who said a top investor wouldn’t even back the company unless she relocated to the U.S. She ended up doing so, though decided to keep her family based in the U.K. to raise her children.
“We had an investor in Miami who said the same thing,” Luke said of an investor trying to get him and Varun to move to the U.S. “It’s quite a common practice.” He and Varun have already begun their U.S. expansion, and despite loving London, the duo hasn’t ruled out moving to the U.S. to be closer to their customers.
David, who has a brain coaching startup, is the one who introduced journaling into the household. Image Credits:TechCrunch
That’s the tension bubbling beneath not just the U.K.’s tech ecosystem but most of Europe’s. “I work with a lot of people trying to support the European ecosystem more,” Plumb said.
Yet, founders “talk about London; everyone is bullish on the country until they get the opportunity to leave,” Aldean added.
The Lift House lease has about a year left, and there is sentiment in the house to keep it going for as long as they can. After all, there aren’t too many in London, though the city sees many short-term gatherings, like the Solana Hacker House meet-up series. Some of the more public co-living hacker houses are part of a global chain, like the San Francisco-based network The Residency, which expanded into London last year, and BaseJump, which is announcing a London version of its hacker house program soon.
In 2024, two founders tried the opposite version of the Lift House called “The London Founder House,” which Sifted covered under the headline “The people here don’t want work-life balance.” That home is noted as London’s first-ever hacker house, and though it wound down last year, it left an influence through its concept, events, and connected players around the ecosystem. To even be considered for the London Founder House, one had to have raised at least half a million dollars.
For Lift House, prospective residents need to show a hobby outside their companies and an interest in fitness. It’s the same pitch many in the Londonmaxxing ecosystem are using to keep people from leaving: That here one can have it all.
“The culture is to build something that lasts,” Aldean said, “not necessarily burn out chasing a flash.”
When you purchase through links in our articles, we may earn a small commission. This doesn’t affect our editorial independence.#London #hacker #house #stand #founder #burnout #TechCrunchLondon,UK")
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