'I’m not building a new financial system. I built a casino.' This direct admission from Ken Chan, former founder of the Aevo derivative protocol, has sparked much discussion in Asian crypto communities this week.
It all started with a post published on X, which has now crossed language barriers, spreading through Chinese media to local communities and widely shared among Korean traders, gathering millions of views along the way.
From disappointment in Ayn Rand: a libertarian's journey with cryptocurrency
Chan's confession is not just criticism – but a deconstruction of one's thought model. He presents himself as an 'idealist libertarian', who donated to Gary Johnson's 2016 presidential campaign after being convinced by Ayn Rand's novels. The cypherpunk thinking of Bitcoin spoke directly to this worldview. 'The idea that you can cross the billion-dollar mark in your head is a powerful thought – and will always be that for me,' he writes.
Years of experience in the field, however, wore down this idealism. Chan describes how the Layer 1 wars – capital rushes to Aptos, Sui, Sei, ICP, and numerous others – did not bring any significant progress towards a new financial system. Instead, it 'literally burned everyone's money' in the quest to become the next Solana. He bluntly states: 'We don't need to build a casino on Mars.'
According to his LinkedIn profile, Chan left Aevo in May of this year. According to his personal homepage, he is now working on KENSAT, a personal satellite project. The satellite is scheduled to launch on Falcon 9 in June 2026. His confession was published six months after his departure. At the time of publication, the market value of the AEVO token is about $45 million – nearly 99% lower than its peak.
The casino metaphor's arrival amidst market fatigue
Chan's central metaphor – that crypto has become 'our generation's greatest, online operating, multiplayer casino 24/7' – encapsulates the phenomenon understandably instead of technical details.
The timing makes the message even more poignant. After the market turmoil of October and ongoing volatility, participants in the region are showing signs of exhaustion. Chinese media described the viral phenomenon as reflecting 'communal anxiety amidst a lack of liquidity and a deficit in narrative.'
Chinese-language reactions were divided. Some reacted strongly against it: 'The same eight years – some rise to the top, others drop out. Wasting time is your own problem.' Others went further than Chan, with one commentator writing: 'The entire crypto circle is stupid, no exceptions. After more than ten years, what blockchain product has an ordinary person actually used?'
Similar fatigue resonated in Korean comments. 'Besides stablecoins, there are no real use cases,' noted one trader. Another was more direct: 'No one is creating new value for society based on crypto – only scammers are collecting money from private investors.'
Generation's anxiety finds a voice across borders
Especially Chan's warning that the industry's 'toxic attitude could lead to the long-term collapse of social mobility for the younger generation' is striking. This concern deeply affects East Asian societies. Traditional means of wealth accumulation – real estate, stable jobs – are increasingly difficult to attain. Crypto was supposed to offer an alternative; however, according to Chan, it might exacerbate the problem.
Korean analyst KKD Whale pondered the matter in parallel without directly addressing Chan's post. 'The time when one core competency was enough is over,' he wrote, reminiscing about a talented colleague who did eight hours of work in one hour but never deepened his expertise. Skills became unnecessary; the individual moved on.
As Chan ponders what the industry has built, KKD Whale asks what individuals have accumulated for themselves. Both reflections lead to the same uncomfortable conclusion.
Chan concludes with a quote from CMS Holdings: 'Do you want to make money or be right?' His answer: 'This time, I choose to be right.'
Six months after leaving the project, and with AEVO's value being a fraction of what it once was, the question hangs in the air: Is this clarity brought by hindsight or an easy way out? With the spread of his confession, many others ponder the same question.
