Our Work

For a generation of fans, Stan Lee was the convention — the handshake, the catchphrase, the warmth in the room. We were asked to bring a measure of that back: a photoreal, conversational Stan who could greet visitors, answer in his own cadence, and hold a moment of genuine connection.

The brief was not impersonation. It was presence — built with the estate's blessing, trained on his voice and manner, and tuned to stay unmistakably him without ever overstepping.

Some voices belong to one person and no one else. Ozzy's was one of them — the sound a whole generation grew up on, and the warmth and mischief that came with it. When the world lost him, it lost a presence there was only ever one of. Working directly with Sharon Osbourne and the Osbourne estate, we were asked to give fans a way to share a moment with that presence again.

The result is an interactive avatar fans can actually talk to — ask him about the music, the career, the life, and hear him answer in his own voice and his own way. The goal was never impersonation; it was connection, built with the care a legacy like his deserves. It premieres as a fan experience at Universal Studios Los Angeles this summer.

A spine operation is frightening in proportion to how little you understand it. Dr. Kim wanted to give his patients more of himself — the calm, thorough explanation he gives in person — without being in two rooms at once.

We extended him into a patient-education avatar that walks each person through their procedure in his own words and tone. It does not replace the surgeon; it multiplies the reassurance only he can give.

This was the most personal work we have done. Bill's widow came to us not for spectacle but for nearness — a way to sit with her husband's voice and manner once more, on her own terms.

We approached it the way you would approach any act of remembrance: slowly, with consent at the center, and with restraint. The work was later covered by the BBC — but the only audience that ever mattered was a family of one.

Every place has its origin stories — the people who looked at a stretch of coastline and saw a town worth building. For the Balboa Island Museum, we brought three of Newport Beach's defining figures back into the room: James McFadden, who developed the original port in the late 1800s; Joe Beek, who launched the Balboa Island Ferry in the early 1900s; and Shirley Temple, the child actress who grew up near these shores and returned to them often.

Visitors meet all three through a single touchscreen — choose a figure, and they answer in their own voice, telling the story of the life they led and the town they helped shape. The whole experience was built end to end: the synthesized voices, the lipsynced performances, and the touchscreen application running on the Proto display itself. The brief was approachability — history you can talk to, not just read about — and since the exhibit opened in May 2026, what's stayed with people is the fidelity: the quiet sense that they aren't watching the past so much as speaking with it.

A century after his death, Gaudí still draws the world to Barcelona. The museum wanted visitors to meet the architect, not a plaque — to ask him about light, about nature, about the cathedral he never saw finished, and to be answered.

We built a conversational Gaudí who holds his ground in three languages, switching to meet each visitor where they stand. The result feels less like a kiosk and more like an audience with the man himself.