Creating through excess: why I chose maximalism?
June 11, 2026
By Seoha Kim • May 2026
When people need directions or clarity to reach a destination, they use navigation tools as needed. There’s no pressure to open them daily. No guilt if you don’t. No reminder asking why you skipped yesterday. You open the tool when you need information, get what you need, and move on.
In that sense, the information itself is the reward.
At the same time, many habit-forming products rely heavily on reward systems built around consistency, such as streaks, daily goals, and consecutive usage. These systems clearly have advantages. But I kept wondering what happens when someone misses a day. More importantly, what exactly are we asking people to come back for?
That question became the starting point of my research.
During an in-depth interview, one participant paused and asked something that quietly changed the direction of the study:
“Is consistency part of the process, or is it the goal?”
At first, it sounded simple. But the more I thought about it, the more it unsettled me.
Products designed to support learning, health, or personal growth exist to help people improve over time. But when consistency becomes the primary measure of success, the original purpose can fade into the background. Showing up starts to matter more than learning, improving, or feeling better.
People do not open the product to make progress. They open it to avoid losing status.
Across interviews, missing a scheduled day triggered similar emotional responses such as guilt, stress,
and avoidance.
Several participants described not opening the product after a miss because reminders amplified the feeling of failure. One turned off notifications entirely. Another never returned. What stood out was that the missed day itself was not the main problem. The system’s response to the miss was.
Even when messaging was encouraging, the mechanics told a different story. Once consistency was broken, past effort felt erased. Progress suddenly felt fragile, as if it only counted when it was uninterrupted.
Restarting did not feel neutral. For many, returning felt like an obligation rather than support. Over time, the product accumulated emotional weight, making re-entry harder the longer someone stayed away.
One participant shared a contrasting experience from a digital product she used years ago. After a long break, she returned.
The product did not highlight how long she had been gone or what she had lost. It simply showed that days she had been active in the past, not consecutively, just historically. She said she liked that she could come back whenever she wanted.
That small design choice encoded something important. Presence mattered more than perfection.
This approach is common in instrumental tools and dashboards. They record actively without moralizing absence. There is no failure state. You return when you need them.
Looking across the research, a pattern emerged.
Consistency works best when it is treated as a process, something that naturally emerges from meaningful use. It becomes harmful when it is treated as an outcome, a goal in itself.
When consistency is the outcome, breaks feel like failure and returning feels emotionally costly. When consistency is part of the process, gaps are expected, effort accumulates over time, and re-entry feels safe.
This does not mean rewards or streaks are inherently bad. But it does suggest we should be more deliberate about what our systems define as success and what they quietly punish.
If consistency becomes the goal, what gets lost along the way?
About Seoha Kim
Seoha Kim is a UX/Product Designer focused on creating products that improve everyday life. She combines design with human psychology research to build more thoughtful and user-centred experiences.