Frontier isn’t just a name. It’s a statement. A call to a new kind of player, a new kind of energy. Yes, it carries themes of exploration and unknowns—but that’s the point. We’re not just handing players a rulebook; we’re inviting them into a living, evolving game world. One where their choices matter. Where they can belong before they even believe in crypto.

The concern about “Frontier” sounding too rugged or high-stakes is valid—if we let the word sit alone, unexplained. But that’s where UI, onboarding flows and in-game prompts do their job. Let the Creative and UX teams frame it right: intro text, guided tutorials, smart copy.

This isn’t a naming problem—it’s a presentation opportunity.

Compare it to names like Basic, Gateway or Academy. They might be “safe,” but they’re also flat. Forgettable. Passive.

If we want to spark curiosity, build momentum, and create something players talk about, we need a name that has flavor. That evokes a feeling.

Frontier is memorable. It’s metaphor-rich. And most importantly, it scales. It’s not just about the starting line—it can grow with the format, with the players, with the game itself.

This isn’t just onboarding.

It’s an invitation to something bigger.
Let’s call it what it is.
Let’s call it Frontier.

And hey — at the end of the day, any of these suggested names are a win for the community. The fact that we’re even having this conversation is massive. It means we’re listening, evolving and pushing for better.

That’s the real W.