After more than a decade crafting copy and making content for products, I've noticed something curious about digital experiences: information density isn't just a design choice.
It's a cultural fingerprint.
What works brilliantly in Tokyo might feel overwhelming in Stockholm.
What seems empty in Jakarta could feel perfectly minimal in San Francisco.
After doing some research, exploring various type of content, competitor breakdowns, and even work on test assignments from product content interviews in various countries, I'll share what kind of insights I gathered. Let me take you on a journey through the world's digital landscapes and what they reveal about how different cultures process, consume, and expect information.
The Western Minimalism: Less Is More (Usually)
Western design philosophy, particularly in North America and Northern Europe, has fully embraced the "less is more" approach. But having worked with Western tech companies and attend several conference sessions, I can tell you this minimalism isn't just aesthetic, it's strategic.
Western products typically focus on doing one thing exceptionally well, although sometimes, many also implement 'growth hacking' recklessly that makes their product cluttered. Slack began as a focused team communication tool, with additional functionality like file sharing, integrations, and video calls available but not dominating the core messaging experience.
This approach reflects Western cultural values of individualism and efficiency. Users expect to accomplish tasks with minimal friction and maximum focus. Secondary features exist to complement the core offering, not compete with it.
For instance, when Spotify introduced podcasts (10 years ago, May 2015!), they didn't rebuild the interface from scratch. They nestled podcasts into the existing framework, making them discoverable without overshadowing the primary music experience.
When I was freelancing and have to rewrite client's onboarding flow several years ago, our research showed Western users abandoned signup processes that asked for "too much information" upfront. We stripped the form down to the bare essentials (email, password, aaand done!) and saw conversion jump by 15%.
Everything else could wait.
But minimalism has its limits. When working with a freelance fintech client, we discovered that stripping too much information from their investment platform actually decreased user confidence. Users wanted enough depth to feel the product was sophisticated, just not so much that they felt overwhelmed.
Southeast Asian Superapps: The Digital Bazaar
Working on localization and internationalization for Kredivo completely changed my perspective on information density. What would be considered "cluttered" by Western standards was perfectly navigable to users in Southeast Asia.
When we A/B tested a "streamlined" version of Kredivo's copy on dashboard against standard interface in Indonesia, the more information-dense version won handily. Users reported feeling more confident when they could see multiple options, promotions, and details simultaneously.
Southeast Asian superapps like Grab, Gojek, and Shopee embrace a digital bazaar mentality. Their interfaces are vibrant, buzzing marketplaces of functionality where users can order food, hail rides, pay bills, book hotels, and buy groceries, all within the same application!
Take Shopee's homepage as an example: flash sales, daily games, livestream shopping, and category navigation all compete for attention. To Western eyes, it might appear chaotic, but to local users, it's a treasure trove of opportunities. The density communicates abundance and value.
The copy in these apps tends to be exclamatory and direct. Error messages don't just say "Something went wrong", they might say "Oops! We couldn't process your GoFood order. Tap here to try again or choose another restaurant nearby!"
(and yes, some of the product put Oops too much).
This approach reflects cultural values that prioritize comprehensive options and community engagement. People don't just want to complete a transaction; they want to feel they're participating in a digital community where everything they need is within reach.
The formula for content in modal popups typically follows:
- Friendly opening (often with an emoji)
- Direct statement of situation
- Clear action step(s) with benefit mentioned
- Optional related information or alternative
Bilingual example from Gojek:
*In English
OMG... server busy
No worries. Try again later, we're already on it.
[Ok, got it]
*In Indonesian
Server sedang padat merayap...
Tenang, tim kami sudah turun tangan menanganinya. Kami akan segera kembali!
[Oke siap]
Japanese Digital Landscape: Dense but Deliberate
Seeing several apps and ecommerce for the Japanese market taught me that what looks like overwhelming density to outsiders is actually highly structured information to local users.
Why Japan?
Because I am curious and interested in its culture and communication style. Even the theme of my thesis is Aimai na Hyougen (曖昧表現), one of the principles of communication that refers to expressions or statements that are vague, indirect, and not explicit. This expression is often used to maintain harmony, avoid conflict, and show politeness in everyday communication in Japan.
Japanese digital interfaces embrace density to a degree that might make even Southeast Asian apps look sparse by comparison. But there's method to what Westerners might perceive as madness.
Take Rakuten's homepage. It's an exercise in maximum information presentation: dozens of product categories, multiple promotional banners, points calculations, membership benefits, and seasonal campaigns all vie for attention. But to Japanese users, this density signals reliability and thoroughness.
The sophisticated use of kanji (Chinese characters used in Japanese writing) allows for extreme space efficiency. A single character can communicate what might require an entire word or phrase in English. This linguistic efficiency enables interfaces to present more information in less space.
Japanese apps also leverage hierarchical information design. Yahoo! Japan (yeah, I'm still amazed it's still used by so many people) masterfully arranges information in clear hierarchies using size, color, and positioning, allowing users to process vast amounts of content by instinctively understanding what's most important.
Error messages and notifications in Japanese digital products are famously courteous and detailed. They don't just apologize, they also explain why something happened, express regret for the inconvenience, and offer specific next steps.
The formula for error messages typically follows:
- Polite apology (申し訳ございません - "We sincerely apologize")
- Clear explanation of what happened
- Reason for the occurrence (even technical details are often included)
- Specific steps for resolution
- Additional contact option for support
Example from a Japanese fintech app I've seen:
"誠に申し訳ございません。システムメンテナンスのため、現在サービスをご利用いただけません。2023年5月15日午前3時に再開予定です。ご不便をおかけして申し訳ございません。緊急の場合は、0120-XX-XXXXまでお電話ください。"
Translation:
"We sincerely apologize. Due to system maintenance, the service is currently unavailable. Service is scheduled to resume at 3:00 AM on May 15, 2023. We apologize for the inconvenience. For urgent matters, please call 0120-XX-XXXX."
This level of detail and courtesy reflects cultural values around respect, thoroughness, and saving face.
Bridging Cultural Information Gaps
After years of watching Western companies stumble in Asia (and vice versa) I’ve realized most failures boil down to mismatched expectations in three key areas: how people consume information, process visuals, and respond to tone.
Take information needs: A Western user might bounce if a page feels cluttered, they want just enough to complete their task and move on. But in Southeast Asia, that same minimalist approach could frustrate users who prefer seeing all their options at once. Meanwhile, in Japan, leaving out contextual details can erode trust. Users expect thorough explanations to feel confident in their choices.
These differences ripple into visual design, too. Western interfaces often guide users step by step, assuming they’ll read top to bottom like a book. Yet in many East Asian markets, people scan entire layouts in parallel, plucking out what matters most instinctively. A linear flow might feel restrictive; a dense page, empowering.
And then there’s tone. Western designs tend to be casual and direct (“You’re all set!”), while Southeast Asian interfaces often lean into warmth and community (“Join thousands of happy users!”). In Japan, the sweet spot is polite formality, friendly but never overly familiar.
The lesson? One region’s “intuitive” is another’s “confusing.” Success isn’t about right or wrong, it’s about designing for how people actually think, not how we assume they do.
When I helped Kredivo shape distinct written communication in SEAs market, we didn't just write the English copy and translate the text into each region specific content, we fundamentally reimagined the information architecture. What had been a dense page with specifications, alternatives, and payment options all visible simultaneously became a streamlined, tabbed interface where users could selectively access information.
The Universal in the Specific
Despite these differences, certain UX writing principles transcend borders:
- Clear calls-to-action
- Honest error messages, and
- Consistent terminology
It's all matter everywhere, they're just expressed differently.
The best global products don't force cultural uniformity but adapt to local information preferences while maintaining their core functionality.
After years of watching metrics across continents, I've concluded there's no objectively "right" level of information density. There's only the right density for your specific audience. The skilled UX writer doesn't just translate words; they translate expectations, reshaping information to match how people actually process digital experiences in their cultural context.
The products that will truly succeed globally are those flexible enough to speak not just in different languages, but in different information densities. That's the frontier where I believe our craft as writers is heading. Not just what we say, but how much we say, and how we present it.
Honestly, that's what makes UX Writing endlessly fascinating.