There's a playbook everyone seems to follow.
Build something cool.
Sell it off.
Lower the quality.
Raise the prices.
Repeat.
It's the default map that gets handed to you at level 0.
When I decided to start my own company, I remember briefly walking down that road: "I'll build something, sell it in three to five years, and then I can finally go work on what I actually want."
The idea lasted about three seconds, replaced with: "Why wouldn't I just build what I want from the start?"
And truthfully, what I wanted was simple: a place where hacking stays fun. I couldn't imagine building anything else.
This isn't a job to me. It's an identity. One that was formed early. Sixth grade. Halo 2. If you've ever shot a plasma grenade out of an SMG, you know what I'm talking about.
Modded Xbox lobbies. The first exploits that made the world feel bendable. It was the moment I realized systems aren't magic, they're engineered. And anything engineered can be understood.
That felt like real-world wizardry.
Honestly, it still does.
Even today, a well-crafted exploit is nearly indistinguishable from incantation. The difference is: now it's an industry.
Security went mainstream. It's visible. The tools are more accessible. There are degrees for this now. The old days of learning the craft from obscure IRC channels have all but disappeared.
With all that attention comes scale.
Scale isn't the enemy. We need it. We live in a world that runs on it. It's a tool. A powerful one.
But there's something that gets lost when scale becomes the goal.
Ever had a doctor glance at your chart, ask the same questions you answered last time, and move on?
High-volume security firms see a chart.
Your business is the patient.
Businesses aren't interchangeable. They're intricate hand-crafted machines, infused with the intentions of the people who built them. They work tirelessly to push the world in a slightly better direction.
Security firms that prioritize efficiency and scale don't take the time to understand what makes your company unique. They can't. And that bothers me.
Somewhere out there is a team trying to do the right thing: to build something solid, something they're proud of, something secure. They will be sold something mass-produced that looks effective on the surface.
It isn't.
If you don't understand what makes a company unique, how could you ever truly secure it?
A factory can't protect what it never takes the time to understand.
And that's why we stay small on purpose, to be nimble enough to protect what actually matters.
There are different playbooks. This is ours.
