I showed up with a backpack, a hoodie, and way too much coffee. The sign said “Vibe Coding Hackathon,” and there was neon tape on the floor. Music low. Laptops high. You know what? I felt ready. Before rolling in, I’d skimmed another dev’s blow-by-blow of last year’s Vibe Coding Hackathon, so I half-knew to expect neon tape and bottomless coffee. If you’re curious about schedules, rules, or prize tracks, the details live on the official Vibe Coding Hackathon site.
First look: good buzz, long line
Check-in moved slow. My sticker sheet was cute, though. The staff smiled, handed me a badge, and pointed to a big room with long tables. There was a quiet room too, which saved me later.
Snacks? Yep. Pretzels, bananas, and tiny candy bars. I grabbed a seat near a power strip. That part mattered, because folks hoarded outlets like gold.
My team: four people, one goofy idea
We met at the “find a team” board. I’m Kayla, front end by habit. Sam does back end. Priya is data. Luis sketches in Figma like it’s air.
Our plan sounded simple: build “MoodLoop.” It’s a web app that makes a playlist from your vibe. I know, cheesy. Still, it was fun.
- Front end: React with Vite
- Back end: Node + Express
- Data bits: Python for mood tags
- Design: Figma → quick style kit
I wired the UI. Big color blocks. Clean buttons. Priya made a tiny mood model. Nothing wild. Just words like “calm,” “hype,” and “focus.” Sam wired the Spotify API. Luis picked a color for each mood so the page felt alive.
Real bits, not fluff
We hit real bumps, the kind you only get when you ship fast.
- CORS blocked our calls. The browser yelled at me. I added a simple CORS middleware in Express and moved API calls server-side. Fixed.
- We tested endpoints with Postman. Seeing a 200 land at 2:14 a.m. felt like a hug.
- Git got messy. A merge ate my layout. I pulled, stashed, and cherry-picked like a tiny hero. Lesson learned: smaller commits.
- We used Vercel for the front end and Render for the back end. The first build failed on a missing env key. I face-palmed. Then I set SPOTIFY_CLIENT_ID the right way and it booted. I’ve messed with online IDEs before, and this deep dive into Replit’s rivals confirmed that deploying to the cloud beats debugging a local env at 3 a.m.
- A mentor from Twilio swung by. We added a “text me my playlist” feature in 20 minutes. Rate limits tapped us once. We slowed our calls and it held.
I also borrowed a LED strip from the hardware table. Hooked it to a small Node script on a Raspberry Pi. Colors matched the mood on screen. It wasn’t pretty code. It was fun. People smiled. That matters.
The feel of the room
By midnight, the music stopped. Chairs squeaked. The AC got too cold. I put my hoodie hood up and typed with stiff hands. It felt like trying to code with mittens.
At 3 a.m., a volunteer brought tacos. Warm, soft, a bit spicy. I swear that taco fixed my brain for a full hour. Then the Wi-Fi hiccuped. Everyone groaned. Hotspots came out like magic tricks.
Judges walked by in the morning. They asked real things: “Why this mood model?” “What if a user hates the song?” I showed the skip button and the feedback loop. Priya explained the tags. Luis talked color choices. Sam showed logs. It felt tight.
What worked well
- Clear theme and short talks. No ramble.
- Good mentors. They gave solid, simple tips.
- The quiet room saved our focus.
- Strong GitHub help desk. One person fixed a broken SSH key on the spot.
- Prize tracks made sense. We aimed for “music + well-being.”
What bugged me
- Check-in took 35 minutes. That’s a long time to stare at a printer.
- Food ran low for veg folks by midnight. More trays would help.
- Power strips were scarce. Some tables had none.
- Music by the stage stayed loud until 10 p.m. The back corner was fine, but still.
- Wi-Fi dipped twice at weird hours. Short, but stressful.
Our final build (and a tiny brag)
We shipped. The app loaded fast, picked a mood from a short text, hit Spotify, and made a playlist. The LED changed with the page. You could text yourself the link. Clean. No magic. Just real.
We took second in “music tech.” I cheered like a kid. Then I slept for twelve hours.
Would I join again?
Yes. With a hoodie, a power strip, and a snack I like. The event had heart. The staff cared. The theme sparked ideas. It wasn’t perfect, but the energy? It kept me going.
Quick tips if you go
- Bring a small power strip and a long cable.
- Set up a repo template before you arrive.
- Write a tiny README first. It saves hours later.
- Plan a demo flow before you code.
- Keep your scope small. You can add flair later.
After demo day, many teams scatter to grab food, drinks, or just some conversation IRL. If you ever find yourself hacking in southern Oregon and need ideas on where to unwind once the laptops close, a local directory like Backpage Roseburg can point you toward community nightlife listings, casual meet-ups, and other low-key ways to recharge before the next sprint.
I once sifted through a bunch of no-code site builders—including Boltnew and its competitors—so I knew exactly what I wanted in a landing-page tool.
Need a slick landing page for your demo on the fly? ZyWeb lets you drag-and-drop one together in minutes. For a bit of context, ZyWeb’s Wikipedia entry charts how the platform first carved out its niche back in the early 2000s.
During one of those delirious 4 a.m. moments when the whole table was debating posture, chair ergonomics, and—don’t ask me why—the aesthetics of lower-back stretches, someone joked that “good form” matters everywhere. If late-night, slightly risqué banter like that cracks you up, you’ll probably appreciate the playful deep dive into anatomy found here: Le Bon Cul — it’s a lighthearted, tongue-in-cheek read that delivers a quick laugh and a welcome mental reset when your brain is fried from debugging.
Final take
Vibe Coding Hackathon felt like a good mixtape. A few skips, lots of hits, and one track you replay in your head. I went home tired, proud, and weirdly calm. And isn’t that the point—build a thing, share a smile, ship the demo, and learn what you’ll do better next time?