ABOUT MODE REBEL
FULL STORY
ABOUT THE STUDIO
Mode Rebel is a story-driven technology studio, exploring the deeply human.
It is a space where the heart, the ethereal, and digital interaction converge—creating openings to engage with the unseen, the untold, and the in-between. From this space, the mission of the studio emerges: to push boundaries and create openings. We experiment with what's possible in interactives. We craft stories that touch the raw, real edges of experience. The goal is to provoke thought, spark reflection, and create deeper connection—with ourselves, with others, and with the universe.
Here, you will find stories, worlds, games, reflection tools, tech experiments—whatever the journey inspires.
ORIGINS
ABOUT ME
Mode Rebel is deeply personal to me—a reflection of my life's journey. It has been a circuitous path, full of highs and lows, stark contrasts of light and dark. Like you, my life can't be distilled into a few short paragraphs.
Instead, I've gathered the major themes that have shaped me. These experiences have influenced my perspective, fueling the work I create.
THE PRECIPICE & THE IMPETUS
Mode Rebel was born in the fire. Many years ago, addiction had torn me apart, ripped away at the entrails of my soul: desolate and devoid of hope. The depression and self-loathing flowed through my veins. Every cell spun in a continual loop, one-by-one crashing its message of pain and self-hatred against the walls of my dying heart. I was done. I simply could not find the strength to push on any further.
From the literal edge of the precipice, I faced a decision: either shuffle off this mortal coil or pull from the ashes a reason to be. I thought, “is there nothing you want to do before you go?” Then, a calling from the purest part of me, “I want to create. I want to make an impact.”
It was this force that saved me. It is this force that powers my work.
DREAMING, ENVISIONING, CREATING
I have always been a dreamer, living inside my head, weaving imagined worlds and fantastical characters—connecting the vastness of the outer world with the endless spaces within. Whether imagining battles between hybrid human-animals as I gazed at sun-kissed cornfields swaying across the rolling Ontario hills, or writing the story of a man in love with a ghost, staring into a flickering candle flame within the disheveled walls of a rooming house—my mind was always alive with possibility.
My love of story met technology at a young age. I was fascinated by the magic of creating living, interactive worlds. Obsessed, I thirsted for knowledge—learning to code from old-school booklets and code snippets tucked into the back pages of game magazines. I built games, geometric art in motion, and interfaces laced with adventure. I was in love.
REBELLION
I have a shadow side too. You know—the one that says, “F* the world. Give me a rule so I can break it.”
Sneaking out late at night to joyride in my friend's parents' car. Running from the cops for simple mischief—the rush of scaling fences, giggling in flight. Double-fisting Absolut vodka straight from the bottle. Bass drum kicks pounding in my chest—hip-hop battle dancing in baggy pants and a crooked hat.
It's thrilling at the edge.
Don't fall.
ADDICTION & DESOLATION
I've been pulled relentlessly by the spiraling undertow. The dizzying descent into the crooked embrace of addiction. A love contract with my destroyer.
I've felt the deep lung cravings. I've seen the look of pure disdain in the doctor's eyes as he stitched weeping self-inflicted wounds. And smelled melancholic despair dripping from the hospital's dark corridor walls.
I know what expulsion from polite society feels like. The imprinted kiss of loneliness, a lost wanderer on cold nights. The cruel city street.
I know spiritual illness. I was it, and it was me.
SPIRIT REALM INTERACTIONS
In the shadows of the wilds, I have come face-to-face with the spirit. Still yourself, peer out from your hiding places—they are there. Open yourself—they communicate.
Three giant ancestral heads once confronted me in the night sky of uncharted wilderness. Seen, but unseen, as if carved by the edges of jagged trees, they warned me to be good to the woman I loved. Their love for her was eternal. Mine was foreign.
As I child, I bolted awake frantically gasping for air, clutching at bed sheets, rocking my head back and forth to free myself from cold hands crushing my throat. As my light faded, they suddenly released. I then traced a pathway, palm print by palm print across wooden walls, desperately feeling my way towards escape. The room a total black, mirroring the demon's heart.
Yet another still night, alone with the trees and the pain in my heart, I looked up and saw a crow. Next to it, I saw another. Then another. And another. Silently they appeared, as if wind and wing were one with reverence for a single moment in time. On every branch of every tree from every inch of earth was perched a still black crow.
In an instant, I knew all would be well. I whispered two words, “thank you.” Then one by one by one, silently they departed.
RECOVERY
Of the spirit, there is perhaps none greater than the one found in recovery.
I have tasted the freedom that only comes from absolute surrender. The jarring bottom scrapes, cuts, and burns, but firm ground to walk upon when all you knew was impossible freefall—that is a blessing that illuminates the soul.
I have felt the spark, the swelling of hope as I clawed my way out of complete desolation. I have been gifted with true connection, a heart-sharing so genuine as I walked with others through their darkest moments—witnessed their journey into hope.
I felt the presence of God, a flowing, grounding, electric, empowering force that reveals itself through raw expression, pure compassion, and collective opening of the soul.
Recovery has been nothing short of miraculous. In it I prayed. I shared and connected deeply with others. I reconciled. I forgave. I began to dream again.
I have fallen and stood back up. I have been forced to face myself and change.
But recovery has freed me to become human again.
It has freed me to pursue what has called me for so long—to create, to build, to follow my dreams.
CREATIVE, TECHNICAL, ACADEMIC INTENSITY
The journey since I chose life many years ago has been a wild ride. Intense in many regards.
It's not enough to have vision alone. I needed the skills to execute. Despite having formal study in mathematics, systems design, coding, software architecture, I lacked the real-world skills to make the imagined real.
So, I went to war. I threw myself into projects at the very edge of my abilities, pushing past my limits, forcing myself to grow. Sleepless nights. Coffee. Standing on my head. Broken keyboards and new variations of classical cuss words. I did websites, small games, then backend systems. Eventually I built full-stack applications powered by graph databases and coordinated serverless systems.
I flexed my creativity hard as well. I developed a virtual cuddling app, a dueling teddy bear battle game, an AR application that allowed you to unlock the spirits within animal statues. I sculpted with code, bringing to life a generative art story that captured the harrowing experiences of immigration detainees.
I even pursued my creative passions all the way to a graduate degree at art school. This was a blessing, as it allowed me to formalize my creative processes. It also gave me the opportunity to deep dive into theories of play, game design, human connection, motion and representation, along with various forms of design research, each of which heavily influence my work today.
LOSS & BEGINNINGS
But despite all of the work, all of the growth, and all of the passion, I still felt as though I was not living fully in line with the core force that saved me and gave me purpose. Then another loss shook my world.
In 2024, my beloved sister was taken from this world at age 50. It was tragic. She was an inspiration—she fought for every piece of meaning and purpose she reclaimed. After years of addiction and walking through a hell I wish on no one, she managed to wrestle meaning and purpose of her own. She got sober, educated herself, worked meaningless jobs to survive with her head held high. She rebuilt relationships, held in her arms her newborn granddaughter. She found her calling and within days of starting her new impactful career, she passed away.
Life is beautiful—and cruel. Tomorrow is never promised. My sister taught me many things, but this last lesson is one I cannot ignore. Honoring the force that saved me can't wait for “someday.” It starts now.
INVITATION TO YOU
I don't know exactly where this path will lead—but it's time to walk it. If you resonate with this journey, if you want to explore the edges of experience, play with what's possible in interaction, and create with purpose—come with me. Let's see where this takes us.