In a main hall whose ceiling is wreathed with glowing planets, creators like Hank Green and digital media veterans like Jim Louderback talk the ethics of AI and the nitty-gritty of modern-day content monetization.
Ten feet from the hall entrance, in a tent under the clear California sun, a 14-year-old proudly shows off her collection of scorched rocket parts–the remnants of early attempts to launch a fully functional, 3D-printed capsule from her backyard, using fuel mixed in her garage. She’s not discouraged by this carnage. Instead, she talks enthusiastically to anyone and everyone about how she and her brother are iterating for the next test flight.
Surrounding her are hundreds of other exhibitors of all ages. Their projects are a limitless STEM spectrum. One runs a lab that puts plants on the International Space Station; another buys cracked crystals from medical supply companies and carves them into jewelry gems. A family of inventors brought a flight sim built into an old aircraft and a miniature train. There’s a Redbox machine reformatted to vend tech bits. An engineering major with a Boston Dynamics-style bot named Corndog. Down the aisle are four guys who 3D-printed some tentacles and use transparent elastic cord to make them dance to DDR songs.
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Walk the exhibits for a few minutes and Code Miko might appear behind you, streaming live. Any Austin might pass by on his way to check out the Barbie go-kart while, across the lawn, a MythBusters cast member stops for an impromptu photoshoot. Meanwhile the scent of grilled chicken drifts off a cadre of food trucks, and every stand with even the vague promise of caffeine has lines 50 deep. A motorized trash can with googly eyes zips up to pockets of people, opening its “mouth” for what’s left of their lunches.
This is Open Sauce. And it’s the science fair of the future.
Founded in 2023 by YouTuber/engineer William Osman, Open Sauce has grown in leaps. Its first year brought around 10,000 attendees to see ~150 exhibitors at San Francisco’s Pier 35. Last year it moved to Cow Palace, welcoming ~500 exhibitors and a whopping 20,000 attendees.
For 2025, Open Sauce moved again to the San Mateo County Event Center, around an hour’s drive from downtown San Fran in the thick of the June Gloom. It expanded from two indoor exhibit halls to three, plus a sizable collection of outdoor exhibits. This year’s event brought over 500 exhibitors, 150+ content creators, and hosted more than 60 panels. The current tally places number of attendees at over 33,000.
Make no mistake–Open Sauce is a creator event. While its gates crack to the public on Days 2 and 3, Day 1 is an Industry Day that reminded me of VidSummit, welcoming the convention’s creator attendees for a packed schedule of talks, workshops, and networking. Afterward, they could grab goodie bags from booths by creator services companies like Blackmagic Design and Insta360.
It’s not only a creator event, though. Yes, attendees arrived in droves to the panels, excited for a chance to ask well-known YouTubers and Twitch streamers questions like What video do you wish went viral? and How do you handle criticism from your audience? and If I want to start creating, what do I do?
But, metal barriers in front of the stage aside, there is little division between creators and attendees. Open Sauce doesn’t have dedicated spaces for meet-and-greets or pay-to-play photo ops because headlining creators share the spotlight with science itself.
A hefty part of its unique charm is seeing creators out in the aisles, slipping through the crowd of families, high school robotics club members, cosplayers, and the guy with a square foot of turf strapped to his chest, asking passersby if they wanted to touch some grass (it was free!).
Like it did at the 2024 event, Mark Rober‘s CrunchLabs had a dedicated, interactive exhibit in the middle of the biggest hall. At times its audience was outswelled by folks watching battle bot teams play hockey, or chatting with a life-sized Dalek threatening to commit war crimes. CrunchLabs was still an indisputably central attraction, but people flowed between it and non-creator projects with equal enthusiasm.
More than anything, Open Sauce is, down in its marrow and microvias, about encouraging communal innovation. Exhibitors we spoke to all hyped one anothers’ booths. In 2024, a noticeable percentage of exhibitors were offering items for sale; this year, there were fewer commercial presences.
Instead, exhibitors gave trinkets out for free–keychains, buttons, stickers, and Pog-like 3D printed chips that replaced the traditional paper business card. Many also gave out demo items, like a small container of metal shavings from a battle bot and a custom name printed in filament in 38 seconds or less. Projects were largely in the prototype phase, like with one couple displaying an electronic wind instrument synthesizer. They’re trying to get it in production, but for now, they just want people to play it. Everyone seemed to be there for the love of the game.
Some exhibitors returned for their second or even third year at Open Sauce. They were, as a whole, bolder this year than last, less prone to sitting back behind their booths and more willing to weave into the crowd and call attendees’ attention to their projects. I met the man who buys medical crystals because as I walked past, he reached out and put a five-pound chunk of fluorescent green in my hand.
There were a few hiccups. The exhibit halls were sweltering, and there were no water stations. Getting bottled water meant waiting in a line with no shade and paying five bucks per. There were no seats inside, either; exhausted, sweaty attendees camped on the floors. Staff were sparse and difficult to find, and we weren’t given maps on the way in, making navigation tough. (We picked one up later from a tent at the back side of the convention center, which looked to be where creators parked and entered.)
Exhibitors had to pay $23/day for non-dedicated parking in a lot that was not sized to accommodate the convention’s population, resulting in zero available spaces and cars heaped next to curbs, boxing one another in with attempts to squeeze. They also had to pay $30/day per device to connect to Wi-Fi that regularly blipped out for long periods due to overcrowding signal interference. One exhibitor, who was also at the 2024 event, said organizers told him he had to pay for Wi-Fi this year because the venue was so nice.
$23 in parking and $30 in Wi-Fi might not sound like a lot, until you realize exhibitors came with multiple vehicles and trailers to haul their equipment, and remember that it’s $30 per device, which adds up fast for tech-heads.
Despite these issues, Open Sauce’s overall atmosphere radiated joy. Everyone was happy to be there, to share what they knew and what they wanted to learn. It was electric, to be in the presence of so many makers. Exhibitors put rovers on Mars and animatronic worms on their shoulders. They made theremin-inspired digital guitars and submarines that look like manta rays. And the creators? They built our industry by posting videos about the things they love.
That love was alive at Open Sauce.
We’re glad we went.
See you next year.
