Many people discuss distributed storage protocols, and their first reaction is usually about decentralization and resistance to censorship. But if you take a closer look at the actual design of projects like WAL, you'll find that the real problems they aim to solve are not so simple — the core issue isn't "where to store data," but rather "why would someone be willing to keep helping you store it continuously."

These two questions are vastly different. In the traditional internet, data storage is forced. Running and maintaining servers requires ongoing investment; managing databases involves handling migration risks. The costs are visible, so you have to grit your teeth and endure. But in the new generation of storage systems, the logic is reversed — storage becomes an active choice driven by economic incentives. Tokens are not just a bonus; they are a genuine incentive mechanism that turns "preserving history" from moral coercion into quantifiable economic behavior.

Nodes won't store data just because of some "idealism." They see clear profit opportunities within the system. As long as they store data according to the rules and respond according to the protocol, they can earn money. Conversely, if they slack off or don't follow standards, they will be penalized and lose earnings. You can think of tokens as fuel for long-term memory — they constantly broadcast to the network who is diligently maintaining data and who is slacking off.

This value isn't obvious when the system first launches. But as the system begins to accumulate massive amounts of state changes, version iterations, and complete causal chains, the ability to continuously and accurately preserve and verify this data becomes a scarce capability. The protocol's competitiveness doesn't lie in "being able to store," but in "making storage economically meaningful."

This is the part that is hard to replicate easily.