I’ve been a part of the IMVU community for 17–18 years. I remember when this platform was small enough that you could call support and speak to someone who actually knew who you were. There was a sense of connection, of loyalty, and genuine support for the creators who were helping build your company from the ground up.
But those days feel long gone.
While I understand your company has grown and adapted over time, I cannot help but feel that the direction you’ve taken has left behind those of us who made IMVU what it is today. This platform is no longer about creators or community—it’s about control and profits.
I now come to IMVU solely to work, not to enjoy. That’s a shame, because I used to love being here. I no longer feel safe or appreciated as a long-time creator. You cater heavily to mobile users and younger audiences, and while change is expected, you’ve forgotten the very people who laid the foundation for your success. We are not just names in a system—we are designers, developers, and supporters who have contributed years of our creativity and energy to your platform.
We invest our money, our credits, and our time. You earn the profits immediately when we submit and sell our products. Yet, we—the creators—see only pennies per item sold. For example, pricing an item at 300 credits returns just a fraction of a cent. Meanwhile, your share is significant.
That’s not partnership—that’s exploitation.
Even worse, you now claim ownership of creator content from accounts that have been deactivated or closed. People leave for many reasons, yet you continue to profit from their work without proper credit or compensation. If that’s not a violation of trust, I don’t know what is.
Your Terms of Service are filled with confusing clauses, constantly shifting rules, and conditions that favor the company while disadvantaging your creators. “Make more to get more” is the slogan—but for me, and for many others, we’ve made more… only to receive less.
And the Pro Creator status? That used to be a badge of honor. Now, it’s a wall filled with unreasonable demands: forum activity, peer reviews, photo verifications—none of which benefit the creator. Instead, they invade privacy, waste time, and offer nothing in return unless we’re willing to jump through hoops just to receive what we've already earned.
You say you listen, but all we get are copy-paste replies, broken links, and tickets that go unanswered. If you won’t support us directly, then don’t pretend the forums are a replacement. Many of us are tired of being ignored. And if you don’t want to hear the truth, then maybe you shouldn’t invite feedback—because I, and others like me, will keep speaking until you listen.
I say all this not out of disrespect, but because I care. I care about the platform I gave years of my life to. I care about the value of my work, and the work of fellow creators who are now leaving IMVU behind. And I care enough to speak up—even if it feels like no one at your company is listening.
I urge you to reflect on how you treat the people who built your catalog. Start honoring your promises. Start showing respect. And most of all—start valuing your creators before you lose them all.
I’ve been a part of the IMVU community for 17–18 years. I remember when this platform was small enough that you could call support and speak to someone who actually knew who you were. There was a sense of connection, of loyalty, and genuine support for the creators who were helping build your company from the ground up.
But those days feel long gone.
While I understand your company has grown and adapted over time, I cannot help but feel that the direction you’ve taken has left behind those of us who made IMVU what it is today. This platform is no longer about creators or community—it’s about control and profits.
I now come to IMVU solely to work, not to enjoy. That’s a shame, because I used to love being here. I no longer feel safe or appreciated as a long-time creator. You cater heavily to mobile users and younger audiences, and while change is expected, you’ve forgotten the very people who laid the foundation for your success. We are not just names in a system—we are designers, developers, and supporters who have contributed years of our creativity and energy to your platform.
We invest our money, our credits, and our time. You earn the profits immediately when we submit and sell our products. Yet, we—the creators—see only pennies per item sold. For example, pricing an item at 300 credits returns just a fraction of a cent. Meanwhile, your share is significant.
That’s not partnership—that’s exploitation.
Even worse, you now claim ownership of creator content from accounts that have been deactivated or closed. People leave for many reasons, yet you continue to profit from their work without proper credit or compensation. If that’s not a violation of trust, I don’t know what is.
Your Terms of Service are filled with confusing clauses, constantly shifting rules, and conditions that favor the company while disadvantaging your creators. “Make more to get more” is the slogan—but for me, and for many others, we’ve made more… only to receive less.
And the Pro Creator status? That used to be a badge of honor. Now, it’s a wall filled with unreasonable demands: forum activity, peer reviews, photo verifications—none of which benefit the creator. Instead, they invade privacy, waste time, and offer nothing in return unless we’re willing to jump through hoops just to receive what we've already earned.
You say you listen, but all we get are copy-paste replies, broken links, and tickets that go unanswered. If you won’t support us directly, then don’t pretend the forums are a replacement. Many of us are tired of being ignored. And if you don’t want to hear the truth, then maybe you shouldn’t invite feedback—because I, and others like me, will keep speaking until you listen.
I say all this not out of disrespect, but because I care. I care about the platform I gave years of my life to. I care about the value of my work, and the work of fellow creators who are now leaving IMVU behind. And I care enough to speak up—even if it feels like no one at your company is listening.
I urge you to reflect on how you treat the people who built your catalog. Start honoring your promises. Start showing respect. And most of all—start valuing your creators before you lose them all.
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