Same layout. Same rounded cards. Same pastel colors. Same bottom navigation bar. Same “stories” row at the top. Same endless scroll. Same push notifications nudging you to come back.
Different logos. Same experience.
It’s not just you imagining it. Apps really are becoming more alike, and it’s happening quietly.
In the early days of smartphones, apps felt wild. Some were confusing. Some were ugly. Some were brilliant. But almost all of them tried something different.
Now, experimentation feels risky.
Startups today don’t want users to “learn” an interface. They want instant familiarity. Investors want predictable engagement. Designers want patterns that already work.
So everyone copies the same winning formula.
Why invent a new navigation style when users already know how Instagram works? Why design something bold when metrics reward what’s familiar?
Creativity loses to conversion rates.
Design systems like Material Design and Human Interface Guidelines were meant to help developers build better apps faster. And they succeeded.
But they also flattened personality.
When everyone uses the same components, same spacing rules, same interaction patterns, apps stop feeling handcrafted. They start feeling assembled.
Think of it like furniture from a catalogue. Functional. Clean. Polished. But you can walk into ten houses and feel like you’ve already seen them all.
Consistency became conformity.
Most apps today aren’t built around people. They’re built around algorithms.
The feed exists because it keeps you scrolling. The notifications exist because they bring you back. The streaks, badges, and reminders exist because retention numbers demand them.
If a feature increases “time spent,” it survives. If it doesn’t, it disappears.
That’s why apps across completely different industries end up looking the same. They’re all optimized for the same invisible goal: attention.
When attention is the metric, interfaces converge.
There’s another uncomfortable truth: users reward sameness.
When an app feels familiar, people trust it more. They tap faster. They complain less. They don’t feel stupid figuring things out.
A unique interface might be better, but it also creates friction.
And friction is the enemy in a world where users abandon apps in seconds.
So companies choose safety over originality. Again and again.
This sameness has a cost.
Apps stop feeling memorable. Brand identity weakens. Emotional connection fades. Everything becomes a utility, not an experience.
You don’t love apps anymore. You tolerate them.
And when something goes wrong, a price hike, a bug, a policy change, you leave without hesitation. Because there’s nothing special keeping you there.
When everything looks the same, loyalty dies quietly.
The system rewards this behavior.
Designers are trained on the same tools. Developers reuse the same frameworks. Product managers chase the same metrics. Investors fund what looks familiar.
Breaking away from sameness requires patience, risk, and long-term thinking, things modern tech rarely encourages.
Ironically, true innovation now feels… inefficient.
Still, cracks are forming.
Some smaller apps are choosing clarity over addiction. Some are slowing things down. Some are removing feeds entirely. Some are embracing personality again, even if it means growing slower.
These apps won’t dominate overnight. But they feel different when you use them. And that difference stands out more than ever.
Because in a sea of sameness, even a small spark of originality feels refreshing.
And maybe that’s the real takeaway.
We didn’t lose creativity in apps.
We just optimized it out.
