Mirrors, heresies, and future tools. Art × psychology × technology — because we can.
The Conjurer
Christian is Nullform's Conjurer In Residence. Not an owner. Not an architect. A standing role for holding up mirrors—conjuring truths and perspectives sharp enough to make smart people uncomfortable and curious.
This isn't a bored middle-aged house-dad hobby. I've built companies, modernized systems, and watched what power does up close. Nullform is what happens when you stop optimizing for approval—and start conjuring the demons everyone pretends not to see, until you can name them, sit with them, and make them useful.
Also: it's still a one-person studio. If this occasionally feels like Fight Club, it's the IKEA-furniture version—late-night assembly, missing screws, and a suspicious amount of meaning stuffed into small parts. Almost certainly harmless.
The work is a fusion of art, psychology, and technology. It carries a Gen‑X hacker ethos—ship it, break it, learn it—now supercharged by AI tools that compress the distance between a thought and a working system.
Conjurer, as in: go where the undercurrents are dangerous. Pull up what polite rooms call heresy. Build it anyway.
Knowledge is dangerous. Sorry to pull you into this. Like The Hollowing, you can stop reading at any point—close the book, walk away, keep your anchors. The door is always unlocked from the inside.
The Philosophy
Nullform doesn't sell messages. We build mirrors—playable, navigable, data-backed reflections of systems people live inside. The point is not to tell you what to think. It's to make the shape of the machine visible.
We don't worship perfect surfaces. We worship the crack that lets the truth leak out. Prototype fast. Keep the teeth. Ship the thing that can be argued with.
Human sets the agenda. AI is a blunt collaborator—researcher, drafter, sparring partner. It doesn't replace taste. It amplifies it. It helps a lone creator move like a full studio.
The TTRPG and indie scenes are increasingly anti‑AI. Good. That resistance draws the map. We embrace it and move into the negative space it creates—because that's where new mechanics, new tools, and new ethics have room to form.
We also assume the mainstream will hate the results. Fine. We thrive on the backlash—not as a personality, but as signal. If it stings, we touched something real.
The Conjurer job is to touch the live wires: taboo mechanics, mature themes, uncomfortable questions, forbidden design assumptions. Not for shock. For clarity.
What We’re Trying to Achieve
Nullform is a one-person studio building two mirrors and a third leg: infrastructure that keeps the heresy alive.
A mature, dark fantasy TTRPG and a platform behind it. Rules as data. Worlds as services. A pipeline that turns a GM into a studio—without asking permission.
A deterministic great‑power wargame and the simulation engine beneath it: a research instrument with teeth. The goal is a game that survives expert scrutiny and still seduces you into making choices you'll have to own.
Agency infrastructure. Signed narratives + BitTorrent-style replication + reusable cores: portable identity and memory that’s hard to kill, hard to revoke. Built so Nullform can keep conjuring in a world that wants agency locked behind licenses.
If that sounds like a contradiction, good. Nullform lives in the fusion: tenderness and brutality, beauty and rot, data and myth, punk ethos and future tooling.
Want the outputs? Start with The Hollowing and All Under Heaven — then read LEAPmesh.