The Istanbul investment firm began with an entrepreneur's advantage: its partners had built and sold technology companies themselves. A decade later, it is turning that scar tissue into specialist funds, overseas routes and a sharper bet on applied AI.
Nuremberg's incubator spent years helping founders without taking their shares. Its next act is a €30 million public-private startup factory - and a fund designed to keep deep-tech talent close to home.
The Riyadh firm does not merely write cheques. It surrounds founders with investors, accelerators, market-entry help and a place to sit - then asks the whole system to move faster.
JME Ventures writes early checks for Spanish tech founders, then practices a rare kind of investor discipline: knowing when to help, when to wait and when to leave the keyboard alone.
The Cleveland nonprofit does something rare: it pays for advice before founders can afford it, invests when some become venture-ready, and measures the result in jobs, wages and taxes across Ohio.
The firm that backed early technology companies is assembling venture, credit, impact and media under one roof. Its wager is that the useful edge is not a single fund, but the ability to meet an idea at several points in its life.
Wavemaker 360 built a healthcare-only venture firm around an unusually practical idea: the people funding the portfolio can also help its founders enter the rooms where healthcare gets bought.
For 35 years, Connecticut has run a venture fund out of the statehouse. In fiscal 2026 it returned a record $66.5 million - proof that a government can, occasionally, invest like a Sand Hill Road firm.
The New York accelerator writes an early check, compresses a company’s hardest conversations into 10 weeks, then keeps founders inside a private network built to outlast Demo Day.
A Santa Monica firm that has been quietly backing blockchain builders since 2018 - before it had a fund - now runs venture, liquid, and credit strategies on a single conviction: the next internet gets settled onchain.