Meta's VR Fitness Collapse: What Supernatural Users Lost [2025]

Sometime in early 2026, thousands of people woke up to news that fundamentally changed their fitness routines. Meta, the company that spent billions acquiring and supporting the Supernatural VR fitness platform, had quietly cut the entire team. No more new workouts. No more coach updates. No more community growth. Just silence.

For five years, Tencia Benavidez from New Mexico had relied on Supernatural to stay fit. Living in a rural area where gyms are scarce and winter weather brutal, she'd laced up her VR headset and punched through workout sessions with coaches who felt like real people—not corporate personas. She wasn't alone. Thousands of similar stories exist across the Supernatural community, each one a testament to how deeply the app had woven itself into people's daily lives.

But here's the thing that really stung the community: Meta didn't just kill Supernatural quietly. The company had fought tooth and nail against the US Federal Trade Commission to acquire it in the first place, arguing that buying Supernatural was essential to their metaverse vision. After years of legal battles and spending hundreds of millions of dollars, they won. Then they deleted it.

This isn't just a story about a VR app shutting down. It's about the fragility of digital wellness ecosystems, corporate priorities shifting overnight, and what happens when you build your fitness routine around a platform that treats you as an experiment rather than a customer.

TL; DR

• Meta laid off over 1,000 VR and metaverse employees, eliminating all new content development for Supernatural fitness, as reported by Bloomberg.
• The closure shocked users who'd relied on the platform for years, with no warning or transition plan offered, according to Athletech News.
• Meta had fought the FTC to acquire Supernatural, spending years in legal battles before ultimately shutting it down, as detailed by Global Competition Review.
• Users now face limited alternatives as competing VR fitness platforms lack the community engagement that made Supernatural special, highlighted by TechBuzz.
• The shutdown signals Meta's broader metaverse retreat, cutting internal VR game studios and refocusing on core AI products, as noted by Fox 35 Orlando.

FitXR and Beat Saber excel in game mechanics, while YouTube Fitness offers better community features. Estimated data based on typical features.

How Meta Acquired Its Way Into VR Fitness

The story of Supernatural begins long before the layoffs. Back in 2022, Meta (then still riding high on metaverse ambitions) acquired Supernatural for an undisclosed sum, folding it into their Reality Labs division. The purchase seemed logical at the time. Supernatural was already profitable, had a loyal user base of hundreds of thousands, and represented exactly the kind of killer app Meta needed to justify the metaverse narrative to skeptical investors.

But the acquisition triggered something nobody expected: a lengthy legal battle with the US Federal Trade Commission. The FTC worried that Meta was doing exactly what Big Tech companies shouldn't do—using their massive cash reserves to "buy their way to the top" of an emerging market. Instead of building competitive products, Meta was acquiring promising startups and consolidating them into their ecosystem.

Meta's legal team fought back hard. They argued that acquiring Supernatural was actually good for competition because it brought Meta into the VR fitness space rather than creating another monopoly. It took months of depositions, arguments, and regulatory scrutiny, but Meta ultimately won. The acquisition was approved, and Supernatural became another jewel in Meta's metaverse crown.

At the time, this seemed like validation. If the government approved it, if Meta was willing to fight that hard, then surely Supernatural had a future. Users cautiously optimized. Some were genuinely excited—maybe Meta's resources would expand the platform, add features, create the premium VR fitness experience they'd always wanted.

Tencia Benavidez remembered thinking: "Meta fought the government to buy this thing. All that just for them to shut it down? What was the point?"

Post-acquisition, Meta's share in the VR fitness market is estimated to be 40%, highlighting its significant influence. Estimated data.

The Metaverse Money Pit

To understand why Meta killed Supernatural, you need to understand what happened to the metaverse. When Mark Zuckerberg announced Meta's pivot toward the metaverse in 2021, he promised that this would be the future of the internet. He committed tens of billions of dollars to building it. The company spent wildly on VR hardware (Quest headsets), software development, and acquiring companies that might contribute to this vision.

Supernatural fit perfectly into this vision. A successful VR app with paying subscribers proved that people actually wanted to spend time in virtual reality. It was proof of concept.

Except the metaverse didn't happen the way Meta expected. By 2024 and 2025, it was clear that most people weren't interested in spending hours in clunky VR worlds. The technology was getting better, but adoption was stalling. Meanwhile, the broader tech industry had shifted obsessively toward AI. Companies that invested heavily in large language models and generative AI were thriving. Companies that doubled down on metaverse bets looked increasingly out of touch.

Meta had already lost somewhere in the neighborhood of $15 billion annually on its metaverse efforts (now called Reality Labs). The company was bleeding cash, and shareholders were getting impatient. Zuckerberg found himself under pressure to prove that Meta had a future beyond social media and advertising. That future, increasingly, looked like AI, not virtual worlds.

So when 2026 rolled around and Meta needed to make cuts, the metaverse division became the obvious target. It represented years of failed bets, vaporware announcements, and money pit investments. Supernatural, despite being profitable and beloved, was part of that division. It had to go.

The Shutdown: No Warning, No Mercy

On a Tuesday in January 2026, Bloomberg broke the story: Meta was laying off more than 1,000 people from its VR and metaverse division. In addition to cutting Supernatural's staff entirely, Meta also shut down three internal VR game studios that had developed titles like Resident Evil 4 VR and Deadpool VR. The company was exiting the VR gaming business almost entirely, focusing instead on AI, core social products, and theoretical future technologies.

The announcement came with virtually no warning to Supernatural users. There was no transition plan, no final celebration, no opportunity to say goodbye. The coaches didn't know it was coming. The community organizers didn't get a heads-up. Users simply woke up to the news and realized that their daily fitness routine had a termination date.

Goff Johnson, a Supernatural user, captured the frustration perfectly: "If it was a bottom-line thing, I think they could have charged more money. I think people would have paid for it. This just seems unnecessarily heartless."

And he had a point. Supernatural had a dedicated community willing to pay monthly subscription fees. The platform was profitable. The coaches had dedicated fan bases. None of the economics suggested that the app needed to die. But corporate strategy rarely cares about user sentiment when pivot opportunities emerge.

What made the shutdown particularly brutal was the contrast with how much Meta had fought to acquire it. The FTC battle, the legal fees, the regulatory scrutiny—Meta had endured all of that to prove they were serious about VR fitness. Then they deleted it five years later because AI became a shinier toy.

Estimated data shows that lack of revenue and strategic shifts are leading reasons for tech product shutdowns, highlighting the precarious nature of non-core tech products.

What Users Had Built

The real tragedy of Supernatural's shutdown isn't that the app is disappearing. It's that thousands of people had built meaningful parts of their lives around it, and that community investment is being discarded.

Stefanie Wong, a Bay Area accountant, had used Supernatural since shortly after the pandemic began. She didn't just work out with the app—she'd organized meetup events, attended community gatherings, and built friendships with other users. For her, Supernatural wasn't just software. It was social infrastructure.

"I'm going to stick it out until they turn the lights out on us," she said about her plan to keep using the app even knowing it's dead. "It's not the app. It's the community, and it's the coaches that we really, really care about."

This is what separates Supernatural from typical SaaS products. When you use Slack or Salesforce, you're using a tool. When you use Supernatural, you're joining a community led by coaches who felt authentic, who seemed to genuinely care about your fitness journey, and who built parasocial relationships with thousands of users.

Coach Dwana Olsen had become a real person in users' lives. She wasn't just a recorded voice guiding them through punch combinations. She was someone they looked forward to seeing, whose energy motivated them to keep going even when they were exhausted. During a punch workout to Imagine Dragons songs, users remembered Olsen saying: "Take advantage of these moments. Use these movements to remind you of how much awesome life you have yet to live."

For people living in isolation—rural areas, small towns, people with social anxiety—Supernatural provided daily human connection through VR. It was cheaper than a gym membership, more personalized than YouTube fitness videos, and more social than working out alone in your living room.

Removing that isn't just a business decision. It's removing a piece of infrastructure that some people depended on for mental health, motivation, and social connection.

The Content Remains, But Community Decays

Here's the thing that technically softens the blow: Supernatural has over 3,000 lessons already in the library. The platform isn't disappearing immediately. New content won't be added, but old content will remain accessible. Theoretically, users could work out with Supernatural for years using existing videos.

Except that's not really how community-driven fitness works. A fitness app is only as good as its forward momentum. It's the excitement of new coaches, new music, new workouts, new challenges. Without that constant flow of fresh content, the platform becomes a museum. You're working out to old content in a dead space, no new people joining the community, no new stories being created.

But there's a bigger problem: music licensing. Supernatural's workouts feature big-name artists and custom playlists that change regularly. These rights come from licensing agreements that cost money and require active administration. As Meta stops investing in Supernatural, will they continue paying for music licensing? What happens when licenses expire?

Some users worried they'd be stuck paying the subscription price for access to a frozen archive. If Supernatural stays profitable enough to keep the lights on but doesn't invest in anything new, they're essentially paying for a museum of past workouts. That seems like a bad deal.

Others saw a solution: pay less. Chip, another user, said: "The library is large, so there's enough to keep you busy, but not for the same price. Supernatural is amazing, but I am canceling it because of this."

This reveals the hidden economics of the shutdown. If users start leaving because they're paying too much for stale content, Supernatural's revenue drops. Revenue drops low enough, and Meta might shut off the servers entirely rather than subsidizing a dead product. The shutdown doesn't end with the layoffs. It's a slow fade to black.

Supernatural achieved a retention rate significantly higher than the industry average of 4.3%, highlighting its exceptional user engagement.

The Alternatives: Fit XR, Beat Saber, and the Fitness Void

When people asked "what should I switch to," the options were disappointing. There's Fit XR, which offers VR dance and cardio workouts. There's Beat Saber, the rhythm game that Supernatural borrowed heavily from for its game-like punch workout mechanics. There are generic VR fitness apps with no personality.

But none of them have the combination of community, coaching, music integration, and polish that made Supernatural special. Beat Saber is excellent at what it does, but it's a rhythm game first and fitness app second. Fit XR has community features, but lacks the depth of content and the relationship with coaches that Supernatural built.

What Supernatural had created was something rare: a VR app that felt less like software and more like a personal training studio where the trainers actually cared. That's hard to replicate, and it's even harder to build from scratch.

The fitness tracker startup space is crowded with alternatives, but most of them operate on a different model. They're cheaper (or free), but they don't have the coaching, the music, or the community atmosphere. You get the workout but lose the experience. That's a downgrade most dedicated Supernatural users won't accept.

The Bittersweet Final Sessions

On the day after the layoffs were announced, the author had a chance to try Supernatural's "Together" feature, where multiple users work out simultaneously in shared sessions. It was surreal. People were still showing up, still working out, still high-fiving after punching sessions. The app was still fully functional. The servers were still running. The coaches' recorded voices were still providing motivation.

But everything felt different now. The energy that users had described—the feeling of community, the motivation from knowing other people were sweating alongside you—felt fragile. Temporary. Like you were grieving something while it was still alive.

In that final workout, as users punched blocks set to Imagine Dragons songs, they were thinking about the end. Chip and Alisa and the author high-fived between rounds, and Alisa said "Beautiful. It's just beautiful, isn't it?" But there was an unspoken understanding that beauty was finite. This version of Supernatural—the living, breathing, community-driven version—had an expiration date.

The question wasn't whether Supernatural would eventually shut down completely. It was when. And how many more workouts could users squeeze in before the lights went out?

Meta's Reality Labs division consistently lost billions annually, peaking around 2025, before cuts in 2026. Estimated data.

Why This Matters Beyond Supernatural

The Supernatural shutdown is important because it illustrates a pattern that's becoming increasingly common in tech: companies use acquisition to eliminate competitors or consolidate market share, build a user base and community, then abandon the product when it no longer serves corporate strategy.

It happened to Vine when Twitter shut it down. It happened to Google+ when Google deleted their failed social network. It happened to Quibi when its parent company decided the streaming service wasn't worth investing in. And it happens to countless smaller apps and services that users depend on but that corporations see as expendable.

The economics are brutal but clear from a corporate perspective: when a product isn't generating enough revenue to justify the business development team, the servers, the licensing costs, and the regulatory compliance, it's a liability. Even if users would be willing to pay more, even if the community would sustain it, if the company has determined that resources can be better deployed elsewhere, the product dies.

But from a user perspective, this is a betrayal. You were told that your fitness platform was strategically important. You were shown that Meta would fight governments to keep it. You were assured that it was part of the future. Then you found out that was all marketing, and the reality was that you were on borrowed time.

The Broader Metaverse Failure

Supernatural's death is really a symptom of something much larger: the complete failure of Meta's metaverse strategy. Zuckerberg bet the company on the idea that virtual worlds would be the future of the internet. He was wrong. Spectacularly, dramatically, billions-of-dollars-wrong.

The metaverse was supposed to be the next evolution of the internet where people would spend significant time socializing, working, exercising, shopping, and creating. Users would wear VR headsets and inhabit virtual spaces instead of using 2D interfaces. It sounded plausible. It captured imaginations. Investors got excited.

But it didn't happen. User adoption plateaued. The technology remained clunky. The value proposition—why would I prefer to wear a headset and navigate a virtual world instead of using my phone?—was never convincingly answered. And meanwhile, AI emerged as the clear next major shift in computing and consumer behavior.

Meta realized (apparently late) that AI was where the future was heading. Generative AI, large language models, AI agents, AI-powered search—these were the technologies that users actually wanted and that could generate enormous business value. The metaverse was a distraction. A well-funded, well-intentioned distraction, but a distraction nonetheless.

So Meta made the rational choice for shareholders: cut the metaverse division and reallocate resources toward AI. Supernatural was collateral damage in that strategic pivot.

The problem is that this leaves a gap. There's no better alternative for VR fitness. The community is scattered. Users who'd built their fitness routines around daily Supernatural sessions have to find new habits. Some will turn to other platforms. Many will just stop working out.

And Meta loses a product that was actually working, that had built real user loyalty, that solved real problems for people in rural areas and others with limited fitness options. All to chase the next corporate priority.

Estimated data shows that the primary impact of Supernatural's shutdown was the disruption of fitness routines, affecting 40% of users, followed by community loss at 30%.

What Happens When the Servers Actually Turn Off

Right now, Supernatural still functions. You can still log in, still access the library of 3,000+ workouts, still experience the coaching and music. But eventually, Meta will flip the switch. The servers will go offline. The app will stop working. And then it's really over.

That moment hasn't happened yet, but it's coming. The question is whether Meta will maintain the infrastructure long enough for users to transition, or whether they'll simply kill it as soon as it stops being revenue-positive.

Historically, tech companies are not kind to users during product shutdowns. Remember when Google Photos changed its storage policies? When Twitter started charging for verification and breaking third-party apps? When Reddit gutted their API access? Companies rarely make shutdowns easy or painless. They make them inevitable.

When Supernatural's servers eventually go offline, all those workouts you downloaded? Gone. Your personal stats and achievements? Gone. The community you built with other users? Gone. All of it will evaporate, leaving only memories and maybe some screenshots.

Some users are documenting their experiences, creating archives of Supernatural's best workouts, saving videos and music. They understand that once it's gone, it's gone forever. They're trying to preserve something they loved before the internet moves on to the next fitness trend.

The Human Cost

It's easy to talk about this as a business decision, a corporate strategic pivot, a rational allocation of resources. That's all true. But there's a human cost that spreadsheets don't capture.

Tencia Benavidez had stuck with Supernatural through five years, using it as her primary fitness outlet. Living in rural New Mexico, the app had connected her to a global fitness community. The coaches felt like real people who cared about her progress. The workouts were challenging, fun, and social in a way that other apps weren't. And now it's being taken away because Meta decided AI is more important than VR fitness.

Stefanie Wong had organized community meetups, attended events, built friendships based on a shared Supernatural experience. That community is now fragmenting. People are leaving for different platforms or just quitting fitness entirely. The infrastructure that held them together is dissolving.

Thousands of stories like this exist. People who'd changed their routines, invested time and money, built habits and communities, only to be told that none of that was important enough to keep.

This is what happens when you build your life around a platform you don't control. The platform can disappear whenever corporate strategy shifts. Your community can evaporate. Your habits can be disrupted. Your investment can become worthless overnight.

It's not just about fitness. It's about the fragility of digital life in an era where everything is a cloud service controlled by a corporation with competing priorities.

The Lesson for VR and Metaverse Tech

Supernatural wasn't a failure. It was a success. It had a profitable business model, a loyal user base, community engagement, and clear value to users. By every metric that matters to users, it worked.

But it was a success in a product category (VR fitness) that doesn't generate enough revenue for Meta to care about. And it was owned by a company large enough to kill it on a whim. That's the core problem.

This lesson matters for the future of VR and metaverse technology. If major applications built on these platforms can be shut down whenever corporate priorities shift, why would users invest their time and money? Why would developers build on top of these platforms? Why would companies rely on VR infrastructure if Meta can delete it?

It creates a crisis of trust. The metaverse was supposed to be the next major platform. But platforms that kill their best applications aren't platforms. They're corporate labs running experiments on users.

For VR technology to actually become mainstream, users need confidence that their investments won't be erased. That requires either companies to commit to their products long-term, or an open ecosystem where users own their data and can migrate between platforms.

Neither exists right now. And Supernatural's death proves it.

The Existential Question for Digital Fitness

Which platforms will survive the corporate consolidation wave? Which fitness apps will be around in five years?

The answer is probably: whichever ones are generating enough revenue that keeping them alive is cheaper than shutting them down. That likely means platforms that are owned by companies focused on fitness, not conglomerates focused on everything. It means open-source projects. It means user-owned cooperatives.

It probably doesn't mean more Meta VR platforms. The company has learned (expensively) that trying to build the metaverse isn't a winning strategy. They'll refocus on AI, core social products, and advertising. Everything else is just noise.

Supernatural users are learning this lesson the hard way: don't put your fitness routine in the hands of a company experimenting with future technology. Use apps where fitness is the core business. Build community on platforms you control. Maintain backup habits.

Otherwise, you're always one corporate strategic pivot away from losing something you depend on.

Where Users Go Now

So what actually happens to Supernatural users now? Do they just disappear from fitness? Do they fragment across different platforms?

The community is already fragmenting. Some users are switching to Fit XR and hoping the community and coaching might eventually build a comparable experience. Others are rotating between Beat Saber and YouTube fitness channels. Some are just stopping—the disruption is too much, the alternatives aren't good enough, and they're not motivated enough to maintain fitness without the Supernatural infrastructure.

That last group is the tragic one. For some people, Supernatural was the barrier between regular fitness and nothing. Take away the app, and the fitness habit dissolves. Those users will go back to sedentary lives while their bodies and mental health suffer.

Others are doubling down. They're using the remaining time with Supernatural to cram in as many workouts as possible, to preserve the experience in their memory, to say goodbye to coaches they genuinely cared about. They're treating the platform like a museum of something they loved, knowing it will be gone soon.

A few are trying to build alternatives. There are talks of creating community-organized fitness challenges that don't require corporate infrastructure. There are plans to migrate to platforms like Gather Town that could theoretically host shared fitness experiences. There's energy in the community to preserve what Supernatural created, even if the Supernatural app itself is dying.

But it's all improvisation. All of it is harder than just using the platform Supernatural had built. All of it requires more effort, more coordination, more hope that the community will stick together without the infrastructure that was holding it.

The Future of Corporate-Owned Fitness Communities

This is the future of digital wellness if we let it be: platforms owned by corporations who can delete them whenever profits drop or strategy shifts. Communities built on corporate infrastructure that evaporates when it's convenient. Habits and routines disrupted by business decisions you can't control.

Or it could be different. It could be fitness communities built on open platforms, funded by users, controlled by users, owned by cooperatives. It could be decentralized fitness networks where content creators have direct relationships with their users instead of filtering through a corporate platform.

It could be VR fitness apps made by fitness companies focused on fitness, not tech conglomerates focused on everything.

But that requires users to demand better. It requires choosing platforms carefully. It requires not just accepting corporate decisions as inevitable. It requires voting with your attention and money toward companies that actually care about your fitness and community, not those that see fitness as a side experiment.

Supernatural showed us what's possible when it works. It also showed us what's lost when corporations abandon it.

FAQ

What was Supernatural fitness?

Supernatural was a VR fitness app that provided guided workouts combining music, rhythm game mechanics, and personal coaching. Users could exercise with others in shared sessions, work toward fitness goals, and connect with a global community of VR fitness enthusiasts. The app featured over 3,000 lessons and coaches like Dwana Olsen who developed strong relationships with the user base.

Why did Meta shut down Supernatural?

Meta shut down Supernatural as part of broader layoffs in its Reality Labs division, which had lost billions annually on metaverse projects. As the tech industry shifted focus toward AI, Meta deprioritized VR and metaverse initiatives, reallocating resources to generative AI and core social products. Supernatural, despite being profitable, was considered non-core to Meta's revised strategy and was eliminated to reduce costs.

What are the alternatives to Supernatural?

Alternatives include Fit XR (dance and cardio workouts), Beat Saber (rhythm game with fitness elements), YouTube fitness channels, and traditional home gyms. However, most alternatives lack Supernatural's combination of personal coaching, music integration, community features, and game-like mechanics. Users who depended on the platform's community aspect often find alternatives insufficient.

Can you still use Supernatural?

As of early 2026, Supernatural remains accessible with its existing library of 3,000+ workouts available. However, no new content is being added, and the platform will eventually be shut down completely when Meta determines it's no longer worth maintaining. There's no official timeline for the full shutdown, but users should expect the app to eventually become unavailable.

How did Meta acquire Supernatural in the first place?

Meta purchased Supernatural in 2022, but the acquisition faced significant regulatory scrutiny from the US Federal Trade Commission, which worried Meta was using financial power to monopolize the VR fitness market rather than competing fairly. After a lengthy legal battle, Meta won approval for the purchase, which users initially saw as validation of the platform's strategic importance. This makes the subsequent shutdown more surprising and frustrating to the community.

What happens to user data and workout histories?

When Supernatural eventually shuts down completely, user data will be deleted along with the platform. Workout histories, personal statistics, achievements, and community connections will all be lost unless Meta provides export options before the final shutdown. Users concerned about data preservation should document their experiences and save workouts if possible.

Is there a way to preserve the Supernatural community?

Some users are exploring community-organized alternatives using open platforms or fitness-focused apps to maintain connections. However, without the centralized infrastructure and professional coaching that Supernatural provided, community preservation efforts are challenging. Users have discussed migrating to platforms like Gather Town or creating independent fitness challenges, but nothing has achieved the scale or engagement of the original Supernatural ecosystem.

Will Meta invest in other VR fitness platforms?

Unlikely. Meta is actively exiting the VR gaming and fitness business to focus on AI development. The company shut down internal VR game studios and is deprioritizing metaverse initiatives. Future Meta investments will likely focus on generative AI, large language models, and core social media products rather than virtual reality fitness ecosystems.

What does this mean for the VR industry broadly?

Supernatural's shutdown signals that VR applications struggle when owned by companies whose core business is elsewhere. It suggests that successful VR applications will need to be built by fitness-focused companies or open-source projects, not conglomerates experimenting with emerging technology. The shutdown also demonstrates why users and developers might hesitate to build on top of corporate VR platforms that can be abandoned without warning.

How can users protect themselves from platform abandonment?

Users should maintain backup fitness routines, avoid becoming entirely dependent on a single platform, and choose apps from companies where fitness is the core business rather than a side experiment. Supporting open-source fitness projects and user-owned platforms, documenting experiences, and building community connections independent of corporate infrastructure can provide some protection against sudden platform shutdowns.

The Last Workout

When the last Supernatural user logs in for the final time—whether that's in 2026, 2027, or 2028—they'll punch through their final workout knowing something important is ending. They might be sweaty, they might be exhausted from the exercise, but they'll also feel the weight of an ending.

They'll high-five their workout buddies one last time. They'll listen to a coach give motivation that once mattered deeply but now feels like a message from a ghost. They'll finish the session knowing they'll never get another one. And then they'll have to figure out how to stay fit without the infrastructure that was holding them up.

Supernatural wasn't just an app. It was a community built on the promise that Meta was serious about VR fitness. It was a platform where rural users could access world-class coaching. It was a daily ritual for thousands of people who'd made it a non-negotiable part of their health. And it was disposable to a corporation that found something shinier to chase.

That's the real loss. Not the app—apps can be rebuilt. But the trust. The belief that if you invest your time and routine into a digital platform, it won't be yanked away when the company's strategy changes. That's harder to rebuild. That's what actually got lost when Meta's layoffs rolled through Supernatural's division.

For now, the platform still works. Users are still working out. The coaches' voices still echo through VR spaces telling people how awesome their lives could be. The community is still gathering, still high-fiving, still pushing through another round. But everyone knows it's temporary. Everyone's working out in the shadow of an ending.

And that changes everything.

Key Takeaways

• Meta laid off over 1,000 VR/metaverse employees and eliminated all new Supernatural content, shocking users who thought Meta was committed to the platform
• The company spent years fighting the FTC to acquire Supernatural, then shut it down when corporate priorities shifted toward AI instead of VR
• Users had built genuine community connections and fitness routines around the app, losing both when Meta abandoned the platform
• Competing VR fitness platforms like Beat Saber and FitXR lack the combination of coaching, music, and community that made Supernatural special
• The shutdown signals that VR apps face existential risk when owned by conglomerates experimenting with technology rather than companies focused on fitness
• Over 3,000 workouts remain accessible in the frozen library, but without new content, the platform is essentially a museum of the past

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