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12

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May 27, 2026

Last updated on

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August 27, 2026

Mariana Mignone

Hangover-resistant super ability

UI/UX Designer

UX Design

UX Design

AI

AI

What AI can and can’t replace in Design Systems

Published on

·

August 27, 2026

Last updated on

·

August 27, 2026

Time to read

·

12

Mariana Mignone

UI/UX Designer

Just this month, I built a full design system in about 20 hours.

What used to take weeks, sometimes months, is now dramatically faster. So… what actually changed? And more importantly: what didn’t?

Design systems take time. On complex platforms, they can take hundreds of hours.

We were working with a large and complex product where inconsistencies had started to pile up. Different modules had evolved in isolation, teams were making independent decisions, and there were no shared guidelines. The answer was clear: we needed a design system.

AI tools were just starting to emerge back then. They were mostly useful for simple tasks as they tended to hallucinate when things got complex. Developers had started using them earlier than designers, MCP didn't exist yet, and Figma plugins were the best automation we had.

But the context has changed. Fast.

The Manual Era

We did what most teams did. We stopped, and we built it. Manually.

Picture two designers, a mountain of inconsistencies, and no map. We had to cross-reference information manually, digging through the code, detecting what could be merged, agreeing on naming conventions, deciding how to name components. Hours and hours of discussion until we finally landed on a solution.

In the end, we got there. A cleaner system, faster workflows, and for the first time, both teams speaking the same visual language. Hard-won, but it worked.

But now every month a new AI model seems to be released. Design is finally catching up with what developers faced about two years ago. New tools arose, and with that, the scope of our work as designers completely changed.

The Human Factor

For an internal project, I used our Kaizen site as a reference, combined with documentation from industry leaders as a guideline.

I started in v0, which is essentially a chat interface where you can generate UI components through prompts. I fed it the colors, typographies, and a reference image, and from there it was a back-and-forth: the AI generated, I reacted, adjusted, and pushed until the output matched what I had in my head. And just like that, I started prompting my way through a Design System.

Once a component was ready, I used the html.to.design plugin to bring it into Figma (yes, plugins are still alive!). Think of it as a bridge: the plugin exports designs directly from the browser into a Figma file.

Inside Figma, the intervention was more hands-on. First, I checked that everything was visually consistent with what was defined in v0: colors, typography, styles. Then I used Figma's built-in AI to rename all the component layers using BEM convention (something that would have taken a significant amount of time to do so manually).

BEM, which stands for Block Element Modifier, is a widely adopted naming convention in CSS. It structures layer names hierarchically and predictably, for example: button__label--disabled.

Using it keeps the code clean, readable, and consistent, especially when you're working alongside a developer who needs to understand what came out the other side.

Beyond naming, I also made sure the layer structure would generate the right properties when building component sets in Figma, so that all the variants would be correctly exposed and usable. My team also pointed out that adding descriptions to components and variants was key as context for any agent using them through an MCP.

The last step was connecting everything to Windsurf via MCP. With a frame selected in Dev Mode, Windsurf could read the Figma file and use the components to build more complex screens.

We worked closely with a developer throughout this phase. Not just for the technical knowledge, but because having someone who reads code fluently meant catching things we wouldn't have spotted otherwise. The design role here was direction and supervision: making sure the AI used the components correctly and didn't invent solutions where context was missing.

Every step of the process had a human decision behind it.

AI-assisted UI design workflow showing v0 component generation, html.to.design export to Figma, BEM layer organization, and Windsurf MCP development handoff.

An Unexpected Discovery

At one point, before we had any of the naming conventions figured out, I selected a frame and asked Windsurf to build a form using the components inside it, styled to match a specific card. The developer next to me was skeptical until he saw the result, and then he was just as surprised as I was.

What we realized is that the MCP wasn't reading layer names to understand context. It was reading everything inside the frame, even the loose text sitting alongside the components. Good naming is still worth doing. But the MCP doesn't need it to understand what it's looking at.

UI component library preview with cards, testimonials, service blocks, statistics, and a contact form for a modern software development website.

Learning to Talk to an AI

The more specific and contained your prompt, the better the outcome. We started with the most atomic component: the button, and worked outward from there. Each approved component became context for the next one, so the system gradually picked up the visual language we were building.

At some point I got ambitious and asked for five cards in a single prompt: blog card, service card, testimonial card, stats card, feature card… structures, states and all. The AI delivered.

Visually, everything looked fine. Then the developer looked at the code and pointed out that all five cards were independent components instead of variants of one. For a design system, that breaks everything.

One correction prompt fixed it. But it was a good reminder: the AI does exactly what you ask, not what you mean. And fixing it after the fact can cost more than getting it right from the start.

Some Things Learned Along the Way

  • Precision is key. Natural language is fine when you're asking for a cooking recipe, but when referring to a component, if you say things like "create" instead of "add", you'll probably end up with a whole new set of components instead of additional variants of an existing one.
  • The "Frame" is the context: MCPs can read everything inside the frame you select. This is a game-changer. It means the "naming conventions" debate might be shifting. If the AI understands the context visually and structurally, will we still spend hours discussing nomenclature in 2027?
  • No matter what happens, you can always roll back in less than 5 minutes and start over.
  • Work closely with a developer: they can help you understand MCPs and clear up any code-related doubts. Once you start to grasp their logic, you'll learn very quickly how to prompt in ways that AI actually understands.
  • There's nothing to lose by asking the AI to follow a specific naming convention for the code. It keeps everything clean and readable, and it takes no extra effort.
  • The AI covers roughly 80% of the work (generation, variations, exploration...), but the remaining 20% is where quality lives, and that part is not delegable. The AI executes. The judgment is still yours. And if you skip the review, you're not saving time: you'll spend it later.
  • Context matters more than tooling. What you don't define, the AI will invent. Small components may be resolved well, but large interfaces require more definition from the start. A well-defined system scales. An undefined one generates inconsistencies faster than you can fix them.
  • Figma is no longer the mandatory starting point. It's useful as a visual reference, a QA space, or a consolidation layer. But the AI doesn't need it. We still do.
  • There's no single right workflow yet. What you do depends on the project. We're in a transition moment where the tools change faster than the standards. The best thing you can do right now is experiment.

What AI Still Can’t Replace

Through all of this, a few things became very clear. These are the parts that didn’t change:

  • Knowing when something looks off. The AI generates, but it doesn't notice when the result doesn't feel right. That eye is yours.
  • Direction and supervision. The AI used the components we gave it, but without someone supervising it, it invents solutions where there is no context to work from.
  • The definition of done is still a human call, whether it's a conversation with a PO, a stakeholder, or just the designer's criteria. There's no prompt for that.
  • The context: knowing why certain decisions matter, what a component should communicate, what the user will actually feel. Business knowledge, stakeholder dynamics, unwritten rules, empathy for the end user. These take years to build and live in the people doing the work, not in the tools they use.

My Two Cents

The tools changed, and that gave me the chills, but throughout this experience I found that the designer's role is more alive than ever.

What once took a team weeks can now be prototyped in hours. That’s not a threat; it’s an invitation to get curious.

I'm still figuring a lot of this out, and I suspect most of us are. There's no right workflow yet, and honestly, that's fine. We are in a transition where tools change faster than standards. The best thing you can do is experiment. Don't wait for a "definitive" workflow, it might be obsolete by next month.

Go ahead, try prompting your way through a component. You might be surprised how fast the system starts to take shape.

‍

Just this month, I built a full design system in about 20 hours.

What used to take weeks, sometimes months, is now dramatically faster. So… what actually changed? And more importantly: what didn’t?

Design systems take time. On complex platforms, they can take hundreds of hours.

We were working with a large and complex product where inconsistencies had started to pile up. Different modules had evolved in isolation, teams were making independent decisions, and there were no shared guidelines. The answer was clear: we needed a design system.

AI tools were just starting to emerge back then. They were mostly useful for simple tasks as they tended to hallucinate when things got complex. Developers had started using them earlier than designers, MCP didn't exist yet, and Figma plugins were the best automation we had.

But the context has changed. Fast.

The Manual Era

We did what most teams did. We stopped, and we built it. Manually.

Picture two designers, a mountain of inconsistencies, and no map. We had to cross-reference information manually, digging through the code, detecting what could be merged, agreeing on naming conventions, deciding how to name components. Hours and hours of discussion until we finally landed on a solution.

In the end, we got there. A cleaner system, faster workflows, and for the first time, both teams speaking the same visual language. Hard-won, but it worked.

But now every month a new AI model seems to be released. Design is finally catching up with what developers faced about two years ago. New tools arose, and with that, the scope of our work as designers completely changed.

The Human Factor

For an internal project, I used our Kaizen site as a reference, combined with documentation from industry leaders as a guideline.

I started in v0, which is essentially a chat interface where you can generate UI components through prompts. I fed it the colors, typographies, and a reference image, and from there it was a back-and-forth: the AI generated, I reacted, adjusted, and pushed until the output matched what I had in my head. And just like that, I started prompting my way through a Design System.

Once a component was ready, I used the html.to.design plugin to bring it into Figma (yes, plugins are still alive!). Think of it as a bridge: the plugin exports designs directly from the browser into a Figma file.

Inside Figma, the intervention was more hands-on. First, I checked that everything was visually consistent with what was defined in v0: colors, typography, styles. Then I used Figma's built-in AI to rename all the component layers using BEM convention (something that would have taken a significant amount of time to do so manually).

BEM, which stands for Block Element Modifier, is a widely adopted naming convention in CSS. It structures layer names hierarchically and predictably, for example: button__label--disabled.

Using it keeps the code clean, readable, and consistent, especially when you're working alongside a developer who needs to understand what came out the other side.

Beyond naming, I also made sure the layer structure would generate the right properties when building component sets in Figma, so that all the variants would be correctly exposed and usable. My team also pointed out that adding descriptions to components and variants was key as context for any agent using them through an MCP.

The last step was connecting everything to Windsurf via MCP. With a frame selected in Dev Mode, Windsurf could read the Figma file and use the components to build more complex screens.

We worked closely with a developer throughout this phase. Not just for the technical knowledge, but because having someone who reads code fluently meant catching things we wouldn't have spotted otherwise. The design role here was direction and supervision: making sure the AI used the components correctly and didn't invent solutions where context was missing.

Every step of the process had a human decision behind it.

AI-assisted UI design workflow showing v0 component generation, html.to.design export to Figma, BEM layer organization, and Windsurf MCP development handoff.

An Unexpected Discovery

At one point, before we had any of the naming conventions figured out, I selected a frame and asked Windsurf to build a form using the components inside it, styled to match a specific card. The developer next to me was skeptical until he saw the result, and then he was just as surprised as I was.

What we realized is that the MCP wasn't reading layer names to understand context. It was reading everything inside the frame, even the loose text sitting alongside the components. Good naming is still worth doing. But the MCP doesn't need it to understand what it's looking at.

UI component library preview with cards, testimonials, service blocks, statistics, and a contact form for a modern software development website.

Learning to Talk to an AI

The more specific and contained your prompt, the better the outcome. We started with the most atomic component: the button, and worked outward from there. Each approved component became context for the next one, so the system gradually picked up the visual language we were building.

At some point I got ambitious and asked for five cards in a single prompt: blog card, service card, testimonial card, stats card, feature card… structures, states and all. The AI delivered.

Visually, everything looked fine. Then the developer looked at the code and pointed out that all five cards were independent components instead of variants of one. For a design system, that breaks everything.

One correction prompt fixed it. But it was a good reminder: the AI does exactly what you ask, not what you mean. And fixing it after the fact can cost more than getting it right from the start.

Some Things Learned Along the Way

  • Precision is key. Natural language is fine when you're asking for a cooking recipe, but when referring to a component, if you say things like "create" instead of "add", you'll probably end up with a whole new set of components instead of additional variants of an existing one.
  • The "Frame" is the context: MCPs can read everything inside the frame you select. This is a game-changer. It means the "naming conventions" debate might be shifting. If the AI understands the context visually and structurally, will we still spend hours discussing nomenclature in 2027?
  • No matter what happens, you can always roll back in less than 5 minutes and start over.
  • Work closely with a developer: they can help you understand MCPs and clear up any code-related doubts. Once you start to grasp their logic, you'll learn very quickly how to prompt in ways that AI actually understands.
  • There's nothing to lose by asking the AI to follow a specific naming convention for the code. It keeps everything clean and readable, and it takes no extra effort.
  • The AI covers roughly 80% of the work (generation, variations, exploration...), but the remaining 20% is where quality lives, and that part is not delegable. The AI executes. The judgment is still yours. And if you skip the review, you're not saving time: you'll spend it later.
  • Context matters more than tooling. What you don't define, the AI will invent. Small components may be resolved well, but large interfaces require more definition from the start. A well-defined system scales. An undefined one generates inconsistencies faster than you can fix them.
  • Figma is no longer the mandatory starting point. It's useful as a visual reference, a QA space, or a consolidation layer. But the AI doesn't need it. We still do.
  • There's no single right workflow yet. What you do depends on the project. We're in a transition moment where the tools change faster than the standards. The best thing you can do right now is experiment.

What AI Still Can’t Replace

Through all of this, a few things became very clear. These are the parts that didn’t change:

  • Knowing when something looks off. The AI generates, but it doesn't notice when the result doesn't feel right. That eye is yours.
  • Direction and supervision. The AI used the components we gave it, but without someone supervising it, it invents solutions where there is no context to work from.
  • The definition of done is still a human call, whether it's a conversation with a PO, a stakeholder, or just the designer's criteria. There's no prompt for that.
  • The context: knowing why certain decisions matter, what a component should communicate, what the user will actually feel. Business knowledge, stakeholder dynamics, unwritten rules, empathy for the end user. These take years to build and live in the people doing the work, not in the tools they use.

My Two Cents

The tools changed, and that gave me the chills, but throughout this experience I found that the designer's role is more alive than ever.

What once took a team weeks can now be prototyped in hours. That’s not a threat; it’s an invitation to get curious.

I'm still figuring a lot of this out, and I suspect most of us are. There's no right workflow yet, and honestly, that's fine. We are in a transition where tools change faster than standards. The best thing you can do is experiment. Don't wait for a "definitive" workflow, it might be obsolete by next month.

Go ahead, try prompting your way through a component. You might be surprised how fast the system starts to take shape.

‍

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Sep 30, 2026

What to set up before your team starts building with AI coding agents

Set up architecture, agent guidance, and verification in Sprint 0 before your team builds with AI coding agents, so engineers stay in control.

12 read time

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An AI coding agent works with the context your team gives it: existing code, documented decisions, instructions, and reference examples. If that context contains inconsistent patterns, the agent can repeat them.

Before implementation starts, engineering leaders need to define how agents should work and how the team will check their output. Choosing a coding assistant does not make those decisions for you.

For greenfield projects, where the team is building a new codebase, our approach starts with Sprint 0. This is when the team sets the architecture, coding conventions, agent guidance, and verification process.

The setup has two parts: guidance that shapes the agent's work before it starts, and checks that catch problems afterward. With both in place, agents can take on more implementation while engineers stay responsible for how the software is built.

Give agents clear guidance before they build

The codebase is part of an agent's instructions. Its structure and existing implementations show the agent which patterns to follow.

A well-structured starting point gives the agent better direction than an empty repository or inconsistent boilerplate. That makes the team's early decisions important because those decisions become context for future work.

Sprint 0 makes that direction explicit through four elements:

  • Architecture decisions. Record key decisions in lightweight architecture decision records, or ADRs, so agents and developers can refer back to them.
  • Repository instructions. Use a file such as AGENTS.md to define the rules an agent should follow in the repository.
  • Skills and prompt templates. Prepare reusable guidance for recurring workflows.
  • Reference implementations. Keep examples that show the patterns and quality the team expects.

The team also needs to decide what agents can access and do. That includes which files and systems they can see, which tools they can use, what they can change, and which reviews they must pass.

Without enough context, agents have to infer what the team wants. Weak constraints can lead to inconsistent implementations.

Setting those boundaries is part of the engineering work that should happen before agents start building.

Set up verification before relying on agent output

Guidance shapes the work, but the team still needs to check what the agent produces.

That process can include:

  • Review rules for architecture, security, and token usage.
  • Automated tests and linting that check code against defined rules.
  • A sign-off process before changes reach production.

Engineering leaders need to define and maintain these checks. Stronger verification gives the team more confidence to delegate implementation work because problems are easier to detect before they reach production.

As agents take on more implementation, engineers can spend more time on architecture, review, and improving the guidance the agents work from.

Start construction with a clear specification

Implementation needs the same clarity: a description of what the team is building.

In this model, Product explores an idea in a separate environment and validates it with customers. Once the idea is ready for construction, Engineering receives:

  • A behavioral specification.
  • A test plan with acceptance criteria.
  • A link to the prototype for reference.

The experimental code stays in the exploration environment.

We cover that handoff in When PMs can ship code, what changes for Engineering?, including what Product should provide after testing an idea.

During construction, the specification defines the behavior the implementation needs to meet, including edge cases and failure modes. Engineering decides how to implement that behavior within the agreed architecture.

This gives the agent a defined target and gives the developer a clear basis for reviewing the implementation.

Keep engineering judgment in the construction cycle

Sprint 0 prepares the environment, but engineers continue making decisions throughout implementation.

The developer chooses the architecture and reviews the agent's execution plan, including which files it will change and which risks it has identified.

During implementation, the developer supervises the work. Before sign-off, the changes go through manual review, automated checks, and security review.

If the work stops matching the specification or architecture, the developer should stop and reset the cycle.

The guidance from Sprint 0 also needs to evolve. As the team builds, engineers can add new rules and examples, update existing ones, and remove documentation that no longer reflects the codebase.

Maintaining the context agents use becomes part of the development process.

Account for the codebase you already have

This approach is easiest to establish on a greenfield project because the team can set the architecture, conventions, and verification process from the start.

Existing codebases are different. Their previous decisions and inconsistencies are already part of the context an agent sees.

Teams can still introduce the same kinds of guidance and checks. Reaching consistent agent output can therefore take more work.

For a new project, Sprint 0 gives the team a chance to make those choices before implementation begins. Define the architecture, give agents clear guidance, put verification in place, and keep engineers responsible for architectural decisions and release approval.

Then keep that foundation current as the codebase grows.

If your team is starting a new project with AI coding agents, we can help you define the architecture, repository guidance, and verification process before implementation starts.

‍

·

Sep 25, 2026

Build or buy? How AI changed the decision

AI made custom software cheaper to build and SaaS more expensive. How to decide whether to build or buy, and what to validate before committing.

12 read time

Read more

You've said it in a meeting recently. "With AI, could we just build this ourselves?" It's a fair question. And for the first time in a long time, the answer might be yes, but not for the reasons most people think.

AI has changed the cost equation in two ways: custom software is faster and cheaper to build, and teams can test an idea earlier before committing to a full production build. Together, those shifts make building worth reconsidering in situations where it would have been dismissed a few years ago.

TL;DR

AI made custom software faster and cheaper to build. Projects that used to take six months can now take weeks, at half the cost. 

It also made it much cheaper to test an idea, get feedback, and refine what you need before committing to a production system.

Together, those changes open the build vs. buy decision to more companies. The most common mistake is still the same: committing too early, in either direction, before you've tested the problem and the path you're considering.

The old paradigm

For most of the 2000s and 2010s, the standard advice was simple: when in doubt, buy.

Building custom software meant a technical team, months of development, and an upfront investment, typically $100,000 or more, without knowing whether the result would solve the problem. SaaS subscriptions were cheaper, faster, and someone else's problem to maintain. For commodity workflows like payroll, email, accounting, and basic CRM, the math almost never favored building.

This logic was sound. And it still is, for those categories. Mature SaaS tools in commodity categories come with ecosystem value: documentation, integrations, training resources, community support. Building your own payroll system doesn't create competitive advantage. It creates infrastructure you have to maintain.

The problem is that companies applied this rule too broadly, including to the workflows that determine how they compete. The cost of building made that feel reasonable. It wasn't worth it.

For many mid-sized companies, that left an uncomfortable gap: generic tools were no longer enough for the way they operated, but custom software still looked like an enterprise-level investment.

That assumption deserves a second look.

AI changed both sides of the equation

Most of the conversation around AI and software has focused on one thing: building got faster and cheaper. That's true, but incomplete.

The cost of building dropped. A development project that took six to twelve months can now be completed in six to ten weeks. Costs that ran $100,000 or more have come down to $30,000-50,000 for comparable scope, and in some cases less. At Kaizen, our development teams work two to four times faster than before AI-assisted development became part of our process. The cost of the AI is marginal when teams work with clear requirements and structured context. When they iterate without direction, costs add up, but that's a process problem, not a technology one.

The cost of buying is going up. This part gets less attention, but it matters just as much. SaaS companies are embedding AI capabilities into their products and charging for them, separately. A platform that cost $12,000 per year is now $30,000-40,000 once you add the AI tier, the analytics add-on, and the integrations your operations need. For niche tools serving specialized industries, the pricing was already high and the functionality already limited. Add AI tiers on top and the three-year cost comparison starts to look different than it did when you last ran the numbers.

The result is that the two lines are crossing. Custom software is getting cheaper. SaaS, especially for complex or industry-specific use cases, is getting more expensive.

Most companies are still making this decision based on what building cost three years ago.

There's one more thing AI changed that doesn't get enough credit. It lowered the cost of being wrong early. A functional prototype that used to take weeks of development time can now be assembled in days.

That gives teams something concrete to react to, learn from, and change before deciding whether a full build makes sense.

When building makes sense now

The conditions for building have shifted, but the logic hasn't changed entirely. Building still makes most sense when two things are true:

  1. The workflow is part of how you differentiate.
  2. You understand it well enough to start defining what you need.

That second condition doesn't mean having every requirement figured out upfront. It means knowing the business and the process well enough to test assumptions, get feedback, and make increasingly specific decisions.

Companies that start building without that understanding can build the wrong thing faster. The speed advantage AI creates doesn't help if it's pointed in the wrong direction.

Some indicators that a workflow is worth owning:

You're working around your SaaS tools. Spreadsheets patching gaps in a platform. Manual re-entry because two systems don't talk. A Zapier automation that everyone is afraid to touch. These are signals that the tool is containing your problem, not solving it. You're paying the SaaS subscription and building a workaround on top of it. At that point, you're paying twice.

The workflow is where your competitive advantage lives. A logistics company with a particular, high-complexity routing and load assignment process is in a different situation than one that needs basic route planning. The first company's process is their edge, and owning that software means no vendor can change the pricing, pivot the product, or get acquired and leave them exposed. A standard CRM, by contrast, is rarely where a sales organization wins. Salesforce's roadmap reflects the priorities of thousands of customers. If your competitive advantage depends on a process that no SaaS vendor will prioritize, you can't buy your way there.

You shouldn't be adapting your processes to fit a tool. The tool should fit your processes. This is a signal for building: when a company has spent years reshaping how it operates around what a SaaS product can and can't do. That's the opposite of what software is supposed to accomplish. Custom software eliminates that inversion. It's built on domain expertise: knowledge of how your business operates. The software adapts to you.

Vendor dependency is a strategic risk. If a price increase, product pivot, or acquisition could disrupt your operations, you're already exposed. Ownership changes that exposure. It also changes your negotiating position if you stay with a vendor: companies that can credibly leave get better terms.

When buying still makes sense

None of this makes custom software the default answer.

For commodity workflows, buying is still faster and lower-risk. Payroll, basic CRM, email, project management, accounting: these categories have mature tools with strong ecosystems. Build a custom solution here and you've committed to recreating the documentation, integrations, training, and community support that already exist in the products you'd replace. That's rarely worth it.

When your process is still maturing, buying can teach you. A company implementing HubSpot is also adopting a structured methodology for sales, one they can refine as they learn. If you don't know what your ideal process looks like yet, building locks you into one version of it before you've earned the right opinions. Sometimes the right move is to buy, learn, and build later with better information.

When you can't realistically own what you'd build, buying is still the right answer. Custom software is an asset with ongoing maintenance requirements: security patches, library updates, performance monitoring, and someone accountable when things break. If your organization doesn't have that capacity internally, or doesn't have a committed external partner, a build will depreciate without upkeep. Be honest about this before you start.

What AI doesn't change

Two things remain constant, and underestimating either one is expensive.

A prototype is not a production system. AI makes it possible to build a working one in days, but its value is simpler than most people assume: it gives your team something concrete to react to, and those reactions reveal what you need.

One of the most expensive problems in software projects is teams discovering, weeks or months in, that they never agreed on what they were building. Everyone had a mental model. Nobody had tested whether those models matched each other. Show someone a working screen and they'll tell you five things they didn't know they thought until they saw it. That conversation, the one that surfaces the implicit assumptions, the disagreements, the things everyone knew but nobody said, is what the prototype is for.

Building from the requirements that come out of those conversations is a different project than building from initial assumptions. The prototype's purpose is to get you to better requirements faster. Production is a separate project, built from what you learned.

What AI doesn't do is replace the expertise required to architect a system that's secure, scalable, and maintainable over time. Security, data structure, integration design, and long-term ownership decisions don't go away because a prototype came together quickly. A fast prototype that moves to production without rethinking those decisions can accumulate technical debt that costs more than the original development savings. Moving fast into the wrong architecture isn't a win.

AI still needs context. Most teams carry knowledge that's never been written down: how things work, why a decision was made three years ago, what the exception to the rule is. AI doesn't pick that up. Neither does a development partner who starts building without asking the right questions. Explicit requirements matter more now, not less, because the tools that execute on those requirements are faster.

How to decide

Before committing to either direction, three questions are worth working through.

1. Is this process differentiating, and do you know it well enough to define it?

If your answer to the first part is yes, make sure your answer to the second part is honest. 

You don't need every requirement upfront. But you do need enough domain knowledge to describe the process, identify what makes it different, and use prototypes or other forms of validation to refine what the system needs to do.

If the answer is "we know how it works but we've never written it down," that work comes first, regardless of whether you build or buy.

2. What does the cost comparison look like over three years?

Include SaaS licensing at realistic price growth (most contracts escalate), implementation, training, integrations, and the cost of the workarounds your team already maintains. Then include the cost to build, plus what realistic ongoing maintenance looks like. The gap is usually narrower than the initial subscription price implies. If you've never run this comparison for your situation, you're deciding without the information you need.

3. Do you have the capacity to own what you'd build?

This means a specific person or team is accountable for what happens after launch, not "we'll figure it out" or "the vendor will handle it." If that accountability isn't concrete and named, the risk profile of building shifts, and buying may still be the right answer even if the cost comparison favors building.

Before you build or buy, validate the path

You don’t need to start building to find out whether building is the right path.

An AI Validation Sprint helps you evaluate the problem, the workflow, and the options before committing significant time or budget. Depending on what you already have, that might include reviewing your current process, comparing existing products, testing key assumptions, or building a lightweight prototype where seeing the workflow in action would help answer an open question.

The goal is to answer questions like:

  • Is the problem clear enough to solve?
  • Could an existing product meet the need without forcing major compromises?
  • What would custom software need to do differently?
  • Which assumptions should we test before making a larger investment?
  • What are the main technical and operational risks?
  • Does the evidence point toward building, buying, or doing more validation first?

Sometimes the answer is to build. Sometimes it’s to buy. We’ve recommended products like Shopify when an existing platform was the better fit, even when custom development was an option.

And if you already have an AI-built prototype, the same process can assess what’s solid, what only works under demo conditions, and what would need to change before it could become a production system.

The goal is not to justify a build. It’s to give you enough evidence to choose the path that makes sense for your business.

Ready to evaluate your options? Start with an AI Validation Sprint.

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