Death to the MVPs: The Problem with Shipping Skeletons
The siren call of the Minimum Viable Product can almost feel righteous. Inside product circles it’s reduced to a mantra: strip, strip again, refine to rock‑bottom scope. And yet too many leaders forget that an MVP isn’t a sacrificial lamb. When it arrives stripped of meaning or magic, it fails not only the user, but the spirit of innovation itself.
So here’s the provocation. What if shipping something compelling from day one, something that matters, outpaces shipping something minimal that barely exists? What if the role of the product manager is to champion curiosity and creativity in initial scoping, rather than the cold arithmetic of feature subtraction?
First: think of an MVP not as a brutal minimalist skeleton but as the opening stanza of a story. A skeleton can’t speak, cannot compel connection. Not on its own. It needs voice, rhythm, architecture. A story must begin insightfully. Thus you choose scope that delivers core value in a way that feels whole. Yes, you still plan iterative enhancements, but you do so from a foundation that already has character.
What often happens instead is scope is lopped off until the remaining features are so elemental they might as well not exist. Designers can’t show flow. Engineers deliver APIs with no interface. Product managers say ‘we can always add later.’ But later never arrives because stakeholders lose faith or markets move on. Users don’t need just any feature. They need meaning, motion, something they want. And that something rarely lives in a spreadsheet of tasks removed until only the minimum remains.
By contrast, imagine a launch that's small but emotionally tangible. A first version that greets a user with something that feels real. A crafted interaction, a micro‑moment of delight that invites exploration. From there, the rollout of enhancements feels not like a scramble to patch a gap but the natural progression of a narrative. You plan update‑waves that build on the resonances of launch, deepening rather than fixing, enriching rather than repairing.
How do you choose where to start? It’s not about piling on scope. It’s about curating what matters. Choosing a vertical slice that lets the product breathe. That vertical slice must be cohesive. If you’re launching a social feature, don’t deliver only posting but also the feed structure to show it in context. If you’re launching payment, don’t just add a checkout screen. You must deliver cart, purchase, confirmation, perhaps the first simple email confirmation. Enough to close the loop emotionally and practically.
This design discipline feels paradoxical. Resisting the urge to ship ‘bare bones’ by deliberately choosing a ‘small but whole’ core. You trade even scope for coherence. You insist on seeing user experience, not just backend plumbing. And you embrace the idea that compelling in minimal form creates momentum, confidence, energy.
An iterative process then becomes what it should be. An intentional series of enhancements built on a foundation that already delivers value. As each release rolls out, you aren’t just distracting users from a gap. You are deepening commitments. First you ship posting, then tagging, then reactions, then feed sorting. Instead of shipping a skeletal post button and apologizing later, you ship post + feed + simple profiles, then follow, then filters. The key is robust sequencing anchored in user‑facing substance.
Yes, this means you may initially ship with fewer features than a ruthless MVP approach would propose. But what you do ship has resonance. It meets user needs, feels polished, invites engagement. And your enhancement roadmap becomes a rich narrative arc. Product v1.0 is not ‘Bugfix 0.1 but a living beginning, with a structured commitment to evolve.
And practical rigor matters. That commitment to coherence doesn’t mean unlimited scope. It means deeply questioning what users actually need versus what is nice to have: what subset of features, properly integrated, creates meaning. That vertical slice must be small enough to build swiftly, test early, and iterate. It must fit into your sprint cycles. But it is also big enough to matter. It’s craftsmanship over minimalism.
Worst case you ship something so minimal it is meaningless. Best case you ship something compact but compelling, with real emotional or functional clarity. The former leads to wasted effort, poor early retention, and stakeholder despair. The latter primes growth, feedback, enthusiasm, and gives the team, and your users, a reason to believe.
This view aligns with product craft as a creative act. You still seek feedback, you still iterate, but you don’t treat the MVP as an excuse for emaciated product experiences. You treat it as the spark: an invitation. You nurture curiosity within team and users alike. You structure updates as episodes in a continuing story, each meaningful on its own, cumulative in emotional and functional depth.
So what should a product manager do differently? First, reject the gospel that minimal scope is always best. Instead, shape your first scope to deliver meaningful user value in an integrated, polished slice. Second, map your enhancements into coherent ‘layers,’ each rooted in that same slice, not isolated feature islands. Third, communicate that roadmap as a narrative. This is where we begin; here’s how we evolve; here’s what the user will experience at each stage. Fourth, test early with real users. Feedback not on your list of cut features, but on the experience you declare complete.
This doesn’t mean scope creep is good. It means thoughtful scope selection is essential. You say no to everything except the core vertical slice, and you build it with attention. That slice may be small in breadth, but deep in coherence. And then you expand outward in disciplined waves. Each wave adds value, not just function.
The payoff is real: teams stay motivated because they see something meaningful in users’ hands. Stakeholders stay engaged because value is visible. Users stay because the product feels alive, not broken. You still build incrementally, but always with intent and presence.
In contrast, the minimalist MVP risks becoming invisible. It’s not lean; it's lean and starved; lean but lifeless. And lifeless products don’t capture markets. They don’t inspire users. They don’t grow.
In sum, you don’t deny iteration. You anchor it in substance. You don’t reject minimalism, you respect coherence. You aim not for the minimal viable anything, but the compelling viable start. That is a choice rooted in creative curiosity, user empathy, and tactical clarity. And it's actionable: pick a vertical slice that feels whole, ship it, and commit to a structured enhancement journey that deepens that slice over time.
For product managers, the takeaway is clear: craft a first release that matters, not just exists. Build your roadmap as chapters rather than patchwork. Test user meaning, not your ability to remove features. And above all, value coherence over absence. In doing so you build momentum, belief, and something real, and that is infinitely more powerful than a minimal that never breathes.
