When I was 7, I won a stuffed monkey at a carnival. As I was obsessed with superheroes at the time, I decided to name him Super Monkey, leader of a team of stuffed animals dedicated to destroying evil.

The epic battles and glorious feats of these toys would fill countless sketchbooks, their pages filled with comics and character designs that my brother and I created. As I grew up, I became less interested in my stuffed animals, but I kept drawing and writing about their characters; Super Monkey stopped looking like his original stuffed animal, then he stopped being a monkey whatsoever, but he was always the leader and he always fought against evil.

This is all to say that I love to tell stories, no matter the medium. For a long time, I wanted to make comics or animations for a living, as a way of fusing my love of visual art and writing together. As I learned more about music and programming, though, I began taking a specific interest in the stories told through interactive media. Games are a medium where player and developer contribute to a story in tandem, both of them making choices that change the course of their experience. That doesn’t solely apply to narrative games, either. When I play a game like Sekiro or Guilty Gear, I see the story told in each of my inputs, each step and strike weaving a tale of struggle and triumph. And I take that mentality into all of my work; whether it’s a single portrait or an entire game, I make art to tell stories, and I make games so that we can tell a story together. From grand tales of love and destiny to one single heartracing moment of glory or anguish, I want every part of what I make to linger on the mind, revealing ever more intertwing complexities with each look.