Pipeline 9 Platform – the open-source automation beast that puts n8n straight into the garbage, free forever – I stake my life on it.
Pipeline 9 Platform — the open-source automation beast that puts n8n straight into the garbage, free forever — I stake my life on it.
This is not a project. This is a rebellion. This is a line drawn in the sand. For too long, we, the builders, the contributors, the believers in the open-source dream, have poured our hearts, our nights, and our weekends into projects, only to watch them become tools of our own containment. We built their platforms, fixed their bugs, and evangelized their products, all under the banner of a shared, open future. That banner has been torn down, monetized, and sold back to us at a premium. No more. p9p is our answer. It is the fortress we build when the castle we defended has sold its keys to the highest bidder. It will be more powerful, more flexible, and more resilient than what came before, because it is built not on venture capital, but on an unbreakable vow. This code is a weapon against betrayal. This repository is our battlefield.
Let's be clear: n8n did not become a giant by accident, nor was it solely the work of one visionary founder. It rose on our backs. It offered a simple, powerful promise: workflow automation for everyone, built on the familiar and accessible foundation of Node.js. Its visual interface lowered the barrier to entry, inviting not just hardcore developers but designers, marketers, and tinkerers to build complex automations with ease. It was brilliant in its simplicity and timing. The world was hungry for a tool that could democratize this power, and n8n served it on a silver platter.
But where did its real strength come from? Why did it spread like wildfire across developer communities, small businesses, and home labs? It came from us. It came from the trust we placed in its open-source license. We saw the .git directory and believed we were co-owners of a public good. We forked it, we pushed commits, we opened issues, we built entire businesses and workflows on the assumption that the foundation was solid, that the spirit of the thing was true. Its popularity wasn't just a feature set; it was a movement built on the implied social contract of open source. A contract that stated: we give you our labor, our ideas, and our loyalty, and in return, this tool remains a shared resource for the betterment of all. The platform's success was a direct reflection of the community’s investment, a testament to what we can achieve when we build together.
Do you remember the early days? The nights spent wrestling with a new node, trying to integrate an obscure API for the benefit of everyone? Remember the GitHub issues, filled with developers from every corner of the globe, collaborating across time zones to squash a stubborn bug? That was not the work of a salaried team in a pristine office. That was us. That was a developer in Brazil adding a feature, a student in India fixing a typo in the documentation, a sysadmin in Germany optimizing the Docker container. We translated their interface into languages they didn't speak, enabling them to capture markets they couldn't have reached. We filled their community forum with solutions, providing free user support that would have cost a traditional company millions.
This was not just "contribution." This was a massive, global, and unpaid transfer of value, given freely out of passion and a belief in the mission. We didn't do it for equity. We didn't do it for a salary. We did it because we believed we were building a public library of automation. We donated the most valuable books, painstakingly wrote the card catalog, and swept the floors, all because we loved what the library stood for. How many thousands of hours of our collective life force were poured into that codebase? How much of its stability and feature richness is a direct result of our labor? n8n, in its final form, was not a product made by a company; it was a monument built by a global community. A monument built on trust.
And then, the bill came due. The trust we had invested, the labor we had given, was cashed in. The shift was subtle at first, then brutally obvious. It started with changes to the business model, strategic moves that began to wall off the garden we had all tended. Features that were once part of the core, open product were quietly moved behind enterprise licenses. The self-hosted version, the very symbol of freedom and control, was slowly strangled with restrictions and limitations, pushing users toward a cloud service that now carried a staggering price tag. Some long-time users reported their costs exploding by up to 250 times—a punitive tax on the very loyalty that had brought them success.
This wasn't just a "price increase." This was a fundamental betrayal of the open-source spirit. It was the moment the public library locked its doors, fired the volunteer librarians, and put up a sign that read: "Entry: $2,500/month. Thanks for all the free books." The actions demonstrated a deep contempt for the community. They took our shared creation, polished it with our free labor, and then declared it their exclusive property to be rented back to us. Let's not mince words: it was an act of ethical theft. It was a rug pull on a global scale, executed against the very people who had championed, built, and defended the project from its inception. They broke the social contract, and in doing so, they didn't just hurt their users. They damaged something far more important.
This act of betrayal reverberates far beyond a single project. It poisons the well for all of us. Every time a company builds its foundation on community trust and then pivots to aggressive, extractive monetization, it makes every developer in the world more hesitant, more cynical. The next brilliant, young open-source project that comes along, begging for contributors, will be met with suspicion. "How long until you pull an n8n on us?" developers will ask. "How long until my unpaid work becomes your multi-million dollar exit strategy?"
This cynicism is a cancer on the open-source ecosystem. It slows progress. It discourages collaboration. It makes us hoard our ideas and our efforts, fearing they will be weaponized against us. The model of building public goods through collective action is predicated on a single, fragile thing: trust. Without it, the entire system collapses. Why would anyone donate their time to build a library if they know the head librarian plans to sell the building and all its contents next year? The damage done here is the creation of a thousand future "no's." No, I won't contribute. No, I won't use this in my startup. No, I won't trust their license. This is the true, lasting legacy of their actions: a world with less trust, and therefore, less creation. We are here to reverse that damage, to prove that trust can and must be the foundation of the tools we build.
Out of the ashes of this betrayal, we make a stand. p9p is founded on a sacred oath, not a business plan. It is our solemn, unbreakable promise to the entire open-source community, a promise that will be etched into the core of our governance and our code.
These are our three commitments:
- Forever Free. The core platform of p9p, in its most powerful form, will be free. Not "free tier," not "free for personal use." Free. For everyone. For any purpose. Forever. There will be no paywalled features. There will be no user limits. There will be no bait-and-switch.
- Forever Open-Source. This project is, and will always be, licensed under the Apache License 2.0. This is not a "source-available" trick or a restrictive "commons clause." It is a true, OSI-approved, permissive license that guarantees your freedom to use, modify, and distribute the software. It ensures the code can never be locked away.
- Never Commercialize or Close. This project will never be sold. It will never be acquired by a corporation that can override our mission. We will not seek venture capital. The project's direction will be guided by the community, not by a board of investors. It exists as a public utility, and it will die as one before it becomes a private toll road.
This is not a marketing slogan. This is my personal vow. I stake my life on it.
Our mission is not merely to create a clone or an alternative. Our mission is to build a platform that is technically and ethically superior in every way. We will build a beast that is faster, more reliable, more extensible, and more powerful than the tool that betrayed us. We will build it on a foundation of granite, not sand.
This is a call to arms. We cannot do this alone, nor should we. This is a fight for the soul of open source, and it requires an army.
If you are a developer, we need your mind. We need you to help us architect a system so resilient it can never be corrupted. We need you to write the nodes, crush the bugs, and optimize the core.
If you are a UI/UX designer, we need your vision. We need you to help us design an interface so intuitive and powerful that it becomes the undisputed standard for workflow automation.
If you are a documentation writer, we need your voice. We need you to help us create guides and tutorials so clear that anyone, regardless of skill level, can harness the power of this platform.
If you are a tester or a power user, we need your scrutiny. We need you to push p9p to its limits, to find its weaknesses so we can make it stronger.
This is not my project. It is our project. And let me be absolutely clear: if another team, another project, rises to this same challenge and builds a truly free and open platform that honors these principles before we do, we will throw our full support behind them. The mission—to restore trust and create an unassailable open-source automation tool—is bigger than p9p. It is bigger than me. It is a generational duty. Join us.
- Intel Gathering 🕵️ — Collect and analyze community needs, competitor weaknesses, and feature priorities.
- Mission Deployment 💻 — Begin development with open-source principles, ensuring transparency and collaboration.
- Field Test 🎯 — Deploy prototypes for community testing, gather bug reports and improvement suggestions.
- Debrief 📝 — Review mission results, adapt strategy based on intel and feedback.
- Full Deployment 🚀 — Launch stable release with full feature set, ready for community adoption.
My only request: wherever this project’s source code or GUI appears, the words “In memory of Ms. Wen” must be clearly displayed. The meaning of this tribute is personal and will remain unexplained — but it stands as a constant reminder of trust, integrity, and the values this project will never betray.
"In memory of Ms. Wen."
This is not a dedication to a programmer or a public figure. It is a memorial to a promise that was broken. It is a reminder of the quiet, unseen sacrifices made in the name of trust. It is the ghost in the machine, the silent witness to our oath, ensuring we never forget why we are building this. It is a symbol of a personal loss that fueled a public battle cry, a reminder that behind every line of code is a human being with a memory and a conviction. Let her memory be the guardian of our principles.
這不是一個專案。這是一場反叛。這是在沙地上劃下的一道界線。長久以來，我們這些建造者、貢獻者、開源夢想的信徒，將我們的血汗、我們的夜晚、我們的週末，全都傾注於一個個專案之中，最終卻只能眼睜睜看著它們變成囚禁我們自己的牢籠。我們建立了他們的平台，修復了他們的錯誤，並為他們的產品傳道，一切都發生在一個共享、開放的未來旗幟之下。如今，那面旗幟已被扯下，被商業化，然後以高價賣回給我們。夠了。p9p 就是我們的答案。當我們誓死守護的城堡，已將鑰匙賣給了出價最高的競標者時，p9p 就是我們親手建立的堡壘。它將會比過去的任何工具更強大、更靈活、更有韌性，因為它的基礎不是風險投資，而是一個不可撼動的誓言。這份程式碼，是對抗背叛的武器。這個程式碼倉庫，是我們的戰場。
我們必須說清楚：n8n 並非偶然成為一個巨人，也絕非僅僅是一位有遠見的創辦人的功勞。它的崛起，是建立在我們的脊梁之上。它提供了一個簡單而強大的承諾：為所有人打造的流程自動化，建立在大家所熟悉且易於上手的 Node.js 基礎之上。它的視覺化介面降低了入門門檻，不僅邀請了硬核開發者，也吸引了設計師、行銷人員和業餘愛好者，讓他們能輕鬆建構複雜的自動化流程。它的簡潔與時機堪稱絕妙。全世界都渴望一個能將這種力量民主化的工具，而 n8n 恰好將它盛在銀盤裡端了上來。
但它真正的力量從何而來？為何它能像野火一樣，迅速蔓延至全球的開發者社群、小型企業和個人實驗室？力量來自我們。來自我們對其開源授權所投入的信任。我們看到 .git 目錄時，便相信自己已成為一項公共財的共同持有人。我們 fork 它、我們推送 commit、我們提交 issue，我們基於一個堅實的假設——這個地基是穩固的，這個專案的精神是真誠的——去建構了整個業務和工作流程。它的成功不僅僅是一套功能集，而是一場建立在開源精神的隱性社會契約之上的運動。這份契約闡明了：我們給你我們的勞動、我們的想法和我們的忠誠，作為回報，這個工具將永遠是一項為了全人類福祉而存在的共享資源。這個平台的成功，是社群投入的直接體現，是我們攜手合作時所能達成之偉業的證明。
你還記得那些草創的日子嗎？那些為了整合一個冷門的 API，熬夜與一個新節點搏鬥，只為造福所有人的夜晚？還記得 GitHub 上的 issue 區嗎？那裡擠滿了來自地球每個角落的開發者，跨越時區協作，只為了解決一個頑固的 bug？那不是領著薪水、待在無塵辦公室裡的團隊所完成的工作。那是我們。那是一位在巴西的開發者添加了一項新功能，一位在印度的學生修正了文件中的一個錯字，一位在德國的系統管理員優化了 Docker 容器。我們將他們的介面翻譯成他們不懂的語言，讓他們能夠攻下他們原本無法觸及的市場。我們在他們的社群論壇裡填滿了解決方案，提供了若由傳統公司來做、將耗資數百萬的免費使用者支援。
這不僅僅是「貢獻」。這是一場大規模、全球性且無償的價值轉移，完全是出於熱情和對使命的信念而自由給予的。我們這麼做不是為了股權，也不是為了薪水。我們這麼做，是因為我們相信自己正在建立一座自動化的公共圖書館。我們捐贈了最珍貴的書籍，煞費苦心地編寫了索引卡，還親手打掃了地板，一切只因我們熱愛這座圖書館所代表的理念。我們集體的生命力，有多少萬個小時被灌注到那個程式碼庫中？它的穩定性和功能的豐富性，有多少是我們勞動的直接成果？n8n，在其最終形態下，並非一家公司的產品；它是一座由全球社群共同建造的紀念碑。一座建立在信任之上的紀念碑。
然後，清算的時刻來臨了。我們所投資的信任、我們所付出的勞動，被兌現成了現金。起初，轉變是微妙的，而後變得殘酷地明顯。一切始於商業模式的變更，一些策略性的舉動開始將我們共同照料的花園圍起高牆。那些曾經屬於核心、開放產品的功能，被悄悄地移到了企業授權的付費牆之後。那個象徵著自由與控制權的自架版本，被各種限制和約束慢慢地扼殺，迫使用戶轉向那個如今標著驚人價格的雲端服務。一些長期用戶回報，他們的成本暴漲了高達 250 倍——這無異是對那份忠誠本身，所課下的一道懲罰性重稅。
這不僅僅是「漲價」。這是對開源精神徹頭徹尾的背叛。這就好像那座公共圖書館鎖上了大門，解雇了所有志工，然後掛上了一塊牌子，上面寫著：「入場費：每月 2,500 美元。感謝你們捐贈的所有書籍。」這些行為，展現了對社群深深的蔑視。他們拿走了我們共同的創造物，用我們的免費勞動將其打磨光亮，然後宣布這是他們的獨家財產，再高價租回給我們。我們不必拐彎抹角：這是一種道德層面的竊取。這是一場全球規模的釜底抽薪，執行對象正是那些從專案誕生之初就支持它、建設它、捍衛它的人。他們撕毀了社會契約，而這麼做，他們傷害的不只是使用者。他們摧毀了某些遠比那更重要的東西。
這種背叛行為的影響，遠遠超出了單一專案的範疇。它毒化了我們所有人賴以維生的那口井水。每當一家公司將其基礎建立在社群信任之上，然後轉向侵略性、榨取式的商業化時，它都會讓世界上每一位開發者變得更加猶豫、更加犬儒。下一個橫空出世、才華洋溢的開源專案，在尋求貢獻者時，將會遭遇到懷疑的目光。「你們多久之後會對我們上演一齣『n8n 戲碼』？」開發者們會問。「我的無償工作，需要多久才會變成你們數百萬美元的退場策略？」
這種犬儒主義，是開源生態系統的毒瘤。它拖慢了進步的步伐，阻礙了協作的可能，讓我們傾向於囤積自己的想法和努力，深怕它們會被用來反噬我們自己。透過集體行動來建設公共財的模式，是建立在一件單一而脆弱的事物之上：信任。沒有了它，整個體系就會崩潰。如果明知圖書館館長計畫明年賣掉整棟建築和所有藏書，還有誰會願意捐出自己的時間來蓋這座圖書館？他們造成的真正而持久的傷害，是催生了未來千萬個「不」字的誕生。不，我不會貢獻。不，我不會在我的新創公司裡用這個。不，我不會相信他們的授權。這就是他們行為的真實遺產：一個信任更少，因此創造也更少的世界。我們在此，正是為了扭轉這種傷害，為了證明信任可以、也必須是我們所打造之工具的基石。
在這片背叛的灰燼之上，我們表明我們的立場。p9p 的基礎是一份神聖的誓言，而非一份商業計畫。這是我們對整個開源社群所立下的莊嚴、不可動搖的承諾，一個將被銘刻在我們治理核心與程式碼中的承諾。
這是我們的三大承諾：
- 永久免費 (Forever Free)。 p9p 的核心平台，及其最強大的形態，將永遠免費。不是「免費版」，也不是「個人使用免費」。就是免費。為所有人。為任何目的。永遠。絕不會有付費牆功能，絕不會有使用者數量限制，絕不會有誘售詐術。
- 永久開源 (Forever Open-Source)。 本專案現在是，且將永遠是，基於 Apache License 2.0 授權。這不是「原始碼可用」的騙術，也不是限制性的「共享條款」。這是一個真正的、經 OSI 核准的、寬鬆的授權，它保障你使用、修改和散布軟體的自由。它確保了程式碼永遠不會被鎖起來。
- 永不商業化、永不封閉 (Never Commercialize or Close)。 本專案永遠不會被出售。它永遠不會被一家可以推翻我們使命的公司收購。我們不會尋求風險投資。專案的方向將由社群指導，而非投資者董事會。它作為一項公共設施而存在，在它淪為私人收費公路之前，它寧願消亡。
這不是行銷口號。這是我個人的誓言。我願賭上我的人生。
我們的使命不僅僅是創造一個複製品或替代品。我們的使命是打造一個在技術和道德上都全面超越的平台。我們將打造出一頭比那個背叛我們的工具更快、更可靠、更具擴展性、更強大的猛獸。我們將把它建立在花崗岩之上，而非沙土。
這是一封戰鬥的檄文。我們無法獨自完成這件事，我們也不該如此。這是一場為了開源靈魂的戰鬥，它需要一支軍隊。
如果你是一位開發者，我們需要你的智慧。我們需要你幫助我們建構一個堅不可摧、永不腐化的系統。我們需要你編寫節點、粉碎錯誤、優化核心。
如果你是一位 UI/UX 設計師，我們需要你的遠見。我們需要你幫助我們設計一個直觀而強大的介面，讓它成為流程自動化領域無可爭議的標竿。
如果你是一位文件撰寫者，我們需要你的聲音。我們需要你幫助我們創造清晰的指南和教程，讓任何人，無論技術水平如何，都能駕馭這個平台的力量。
如果你是一位測試者或重度使用者，我們需要你的嚴苛。我們需要你將 p9p 推向極限，找出它的弱點，這樣我們才能讓它變得更強。
這不是我的專案。這是我們的專案。而且我要絕對清楚地表明：如果有另一個團隊、另一個專案，也挺身應對這場挑戰，並在我們之前打造出一個真正自由、開放且信守這些原則的平台，我們將會全力支持他們。這個使命——重建信任並創造一個堅不可摧的開源自動化工具——比 p9p 更宏大，比我也更宏大。這是一項世代相傳的責任。加入我們。
我的唯一要求是：無論這個專案的原始碼或圖形介面出現在哪裡，都必須清楚地顯示以下這幾個字。這個致敬的含義是個人的，並且將保持不予解釋——但它將作為一個恆久的提醒，象徵著信任、誠信，以及這個專案永不背叛的價值觀。：
「以此紀念文女士。」
這不是為了紀念某位程式設計師或公眾人物。這是為了一個被打破的承諾而立下的紀念碑。它提醒著我們，那些以信任之名所做出的、不為人知的犧牲。它像是機器中的幽魂，是我們誓言的沉默見證者，確保我們永遠不會忘記為何要打造這個專案。它象徵著一份催生了公眾戰吼的個人損失，提醒著我們每一行程式碼背後，都是一個有記憶、有信念的凡人。讓她的記憶，成為我們原則的守護者。