I can barely code. Last week I put a working piece of software live on WordPress.org → the directory behind roughly 40% of the web → by describing what I wanted, out loud, to a machine.
No computer science degree. No dev team. No six-figure build. I talked, it typed, I made the calls → and now there’s a thing with my name on it, sitting in the same directory as plugins installed by millions of people.
It’s called Aizle Dots, and it’s free. You’re probably looking at it right now → a field of coloured dots drifting behind this page, and they part around your cursor like a held breath, then settle back the moment you stop. Go on, give the mouse a wiggle. I’ll wait. It does nothing useful and somehow makes the whole page feel alive → which is exactly the point.
I wanted the good toys. I wasn’t willing to pay for them.
The expensive, locked-down content platforms have always had the lovely motion → the particles, the flourishes, the little bits of life that make a site feel designed instead of assembled. WordPress runs nearly half the web and mostly just sits there, very still.
Every option to fix that was heavy, ugly, or behind a subscription. I wanted that quiet motion without the bloat, the monthly fee, or the page-builder tax. So I decided to build the thing I actually wanted. The catch → I’m not a developer. I’m the person who decides how things should feel, not the person who makes the computer do them. Turns out that’s no longer the blocker it used to be.
I built it by talking.
The whole thing got made the way you’d brief a very fast, very literal junior who never sleeps. I described what I wanted → dots that drift, shapes that part around the cursor, a field that fades out when no one’s looking and wakes up the second someone is → and the AI wrote the code. I read it, broke it, corrected the feel, pushed back, asked for more. Again, and again, and again.
That’s the part people get wrong about “vibe coding.” It isn’t magic and it isn’t the machine taking over. It’s a conversation → the AI does the typing, you do the deciding. Which, if you’ve ever run a creative team, feels eerily familiar.
Then it had to get past the bouncers.
This is the bit that makes it real instead of a toy. WordPress.org has a human review team, and they do not wave you through.
My plugin started life under a different name → which, it turned out, brushed up against someone else’s trademark. So: rename it, re-slug it, prove I am who I say I am, tear out every internal reference to the old name, resubmit. Twice. There’s a version of this story where a “vibe-coded” toy falls apart the second a real gatekeeper prods it. This isn’t that version. It went through the same gauntlet as everyone else and came out approved → you can install it on your own site right now. Tune the colours to your brand, dial the energy up or down, and it stays polite → it gets out of the way on mobile and for anyone who’s asked for reduced motion. Eye candy with manners.
The AI wrote the code. It didn’t make a single good decision.
Worth being clear, because the panic of the moment is “AI replaces the creatives.” It didn’t write a word of taste.
It did not decide the dots should part around your cursor like a held breath. Or that the field should fade to almost nothing and only wake where you stir it. Or which six colours, or how slow the drift, or the dozen tiny calls between “tacky” and “tasteful” that are the entire difference between something fun to play with and something you switch off in five seconds. I did. The machine was the hands. The taste was mine. That gap → between making a thing work and making a thing good → is the whole job now, and it isn’t going anywhere.
And then I gave it away.
Free. Open-source. GPL. The whole source is on GitHub → fork it, pull it apart, bolt it onto something else, ship it across a hundred client sites, never send me so much as a thank-you. Genuinely.
Not charity. I just reckon the fastest way to earn trust is to be useful before anyone’s asked you to be. Give the good thing away and let it do the talking.
Why I’m telling you this.
Because it’s not really a story about a plugin.
It’s what happens when one senior person who knows how things should feel gets hold of tools that do the heavy lifting → you get finished, shipped, real things, at a speed and cost that used to need a whole floor of people. That’s the bet my company, Aizle, is built on: small, senior, fast. The thing gets made while the big shops are still scoping the proposal.
I didn’t write that as a pitch. I wrote it, then went and built the proof, and gave it away for nothing. Felt more convincing that way.
Install Aizle Dots → wordpress.org/plugins/aizle-dots, then go wiggle your mouse around. Take the source → GitHub. And if you want this kind of thinking pointed at your business, I’m at [email protected].