It started with a call nobody could schedule.

I'm Primož. I hang around the Uneed Discord, a community of indie makers — the kind of place where forty people read everything and almost nobody has ever heard anyone else's voice.

One week someone there offered a quick workshop about his AI setup. He ran a poll for the date, a dozen people voted, Wednesday evening won, it happened, and it was great — he even recorded it for the ones who couldn't make it.

And still, the people who had missed it said the thing people always say: “I want to attend the next one!”

So we tried to make it regular. I suggested Friday or Saturday evenings, no agenda, just talk. It fell apart in a handful of messages:

Everyone wanted the call. Nobody wanted to be the one who picks a time, announces it, and then sits alone in a video room for ten minutes wondering if anyone is coming. That empty room is why most community calls never happen twice.

I typed: “that's why I wanted to build something for us… we all set our timezone and available time so it can match us.” I made up a domain name mid-sentence, checked it, and someone had already taken it. Fair enough. Forty-five minutes later I'd bought this one and told them it would be live soon.

A hangout only happens if enough people sit down.

You set a table: a topic, how many people it needs, and either a few possible times or just a window — then everyone marks the hours they can make in their own timezone and we find the one that works for the most people. Until that many have grabbed a seat, nothing is booked and nobody is on the hook. The moment it fills, the lights go on — the room opens right here and everyone gets a calendar invite at once, in their own timezone. If it doesn't fill, it's called off kindly and the host can try again with one click.

Nobody shows up alone. That's the whole product.

In a small Discord for makers, I suggested we get on a call some weekend evening. People liked the idea. Then came the part every group knows: weekends were hard, everyone was in a different timezone, and the survey for a day and an hour died before it was made.

That is the whole reason for the one rule here: set a table, let everyone mark the hours they can make in their own time, and turn the lights on once your people are in. The longer story is on the blog →

Your people. The friends who moved to another country, the cousins you only see at weddings, the Discord you keep saying you'll call with, the team that works from five cities. Everyone has a group chat full of "we should really get on a call" — and the call never happens, because nobody picks a time and nobody wants to be the one waiting in an empty room.

So you create a hangout, send the link, and it's on once your people are in. Make it a weekly habit: whoever can come, comes, and whoever can't doesn't have to feel bad about it. See how people use it →