My focus now is Multiverse — a game of my own, built from scratch in Unreal Engine 5. It grows out of two decades of reverse-engineering how shipped games really work. That same instinct runs through everything else I make: whole generations of console games — N64, GameCube, Wii, Dreamcast, PlayStation and more — brought into real per-eye VR, and major systems of No Man's Sky reshaped from the inside.
The mission
My main focus is Multiverse — a from-scratch game in Unreal Engine 5, in active development behind the scenes. I'm still learning the engine, and I'll share more as it grows. See where it's headed →
Released · Open source
Each one is a real per-eye stereoscopic fork — the whole game renders in the headset, not on a flat screen floating in front of you.
Super Mario 64 Co-op DX with full VR support. Online multiplayer, per-eye stereo, a world-locked HUD.
View on GitHub →Mario Kart 64 in stereoscopic VR. Netplay is in the works.
View on GitHub →In development · Flagship
A standalone Nintendo 64 emulator I'm building with native OpenXR. It already runs — flat, and rendering inside the headset — but true per-eye VR isn't wired up yet. This is an early, in-progress build.
Also in development
The standalone game · Unreal Engine 5
Shares a name with my No Man's Sky project below — but this is a separate, brand-new game built from scratch in UE5.
Not a No Man's Sky game — but it draws deep inspiration from it and aims to be far more: a flatscreen & VR dimensional-exploration game where space travel bleeds into interdimensional travel.
Prerelease-NMS wonder and mid-century sci-fi, blended with liminal spaces and a found-footage feel. The multiverse is the character — unstable, merging, alive. Presence and awe over progression — no XP, no checklists.
The clip — Thallume — was a throwaway test: could UE5 evoke that prerelease-NMS feel using none of Hello Games' content or code? The real game looks and plays differently. Its HUD is built from scratch — a quiet nod to prerelease-NMS design principles. It stays out of your way.
“The portal is where infinity becomes small enough to stand in front of.”
The multiverse is the character
Dimensions aren't separate levels — they're layers of one multiverse, bleeding into each other through rifts: jagged tears in reality, never tidy doorways. You never know whether the next room is more familiar, or more alien. And every rift is real — the world beyond renders live through the tear. Not a skybox. Not a screenshot. A live window.
What it feels like
Four layers, one world
Warm, analog, painterly — the feeling of stepping into a Chris Foss canvas. Never cold, blue, modern sci-fi.
Strangeness baked into the biology itself — impossible materials, scale that won't resolve, life that defies classification.
Empty pools, corridors that never end, the quiet sense of being watched by the place itself.
Impossible lavender-to-magenta skies, colored fog that blends everything, the analog grain of a half-remembered dream.
Alien wonderlands
Golden-age sci-fi, made walkable. Each dimension is its own painting you can stand inside.
A field guide to impossible things
Surrealism isn't a filter laid over the worlds — it's grown into them. A growing field of specimens, rendered from the Multiverse’s own art pipeline.























































What it isn't
A journey into the unknown
Some dimensions are calm and mesmerizing, others quietly uncanny — and a few are genuinely unsettling, the way the deep Backrooms are. Wonder leads, but it isn't the only thing out there. Golden-age sci-fi, liminal spaces, the Backrooms, prerelease No Man's Sky — they all share one pull: venturing into the unknown. That's the heart of it.
You see it all through found footage — a recording device carried through impossible places. The camera isn't a game camera; it's a physical object. It breathes, it sways, it catches fragments of the next world bleeding through like VHS interference. You don't manage systems or read menus. You just exist somewhere you don't want to leave.
What feeds it
The Multiverse stands on the painters, films and places that taught me what wonder looks like — golden-age sci-fi, surreal naturalists, and the quiet dread of liminal space. The stars drifting behind this text are my own: procedural, grown from shader math — a small continuation of that lineage.
Chris Foss, John Harris, Tim White, Roger Dean, Richard Powers, Syd Mead, Moebius
Ernst Haeckel, Codex Seraphinianus, Fantastic Planet, Gandahar
The Backrooms, liminal spaces, found-footage
Dreams (PS4), prerelease No Man's Sky (2013–15)





























Named artists are credited as influences only — each painting belongs to its creator. The mood studies above are style references. The starfield is original to the Multiverse.
Fan project · No Man's Sky
My No Man's Sky project — not the standalone UE5 game above. Same name, different beast.
A fan project that overhauls No Man's Sky from the inside. I'm fundamentally rewriting its core engine systems — terrain rendering, shaders, procedural generation, the whole visual pipeline — through ten years of reverse-engineering at the assembly level, with no source code. This isn't modding; it's engine reconstruction.
On top of it runs a live GUI to reshape the universe in real time, a modular plugin system, and deep modding — systems the base game never shipped with. No Man's Sky runs on Hello Games' own engine, Skyscraper; I work inside it, rewriting the parts that don't fit Multiverse and adding what was never there.
In a single month it gained 220+ programmable shader effects, an optional Film Gate that makes the game look painted, procedural cosmic creatures built from shader math, solar systems with up to 20 suns, hundreds of new star types, and a custom Terrain Array Texture Editor.
It's written in C++ and assembly at its core — with Python, and some tools in C#.
Dev log · June 2025 · NMS Multiverse
One month inside No Man's Sky's engine, documented — rewritten terrain rendering, 220+ shader effects, procedural cosmic creatures, perspective fog, and the dev tools behind them.













