The Rant That Became a Platform
From frustration to platform — why Singapore needed its own hacker voice.
Founder
In the Name of a Good Rant
There's a particular kind of frustration that doesn't go away.
Not the loud kind. Not the fleeting complaint you throw into a group chat and forget the next day. I'm talking about the kind that lingers. The kind that shows up again on your commute, in your late-night thoughts, in the quiet moments when you realise something is missing — and shouldn't be.
Left on its own, that frustration doesn't always lead anywhere good.
Sometimes it turns into quiet dissatisfaction. Sometimes it becomes cynicism. Sometimes it just sits there, unresolved.
But if you stay with it, and really examine it, something else can happen.
It sharpens.
It forces you to ask: Is this worth fixing? Is it mine to fix?
It pushes you to move from reaction to intent.
When that happens, frustration becomes something else.
Not just noise. Direction.
Back in 2010–2011, I was serving my full-time National Service, leading a Tier 1 SOC team in MINDEF. It was a different time for cybersecurity. YouTube wasn't where you learned your craft. Write-ups weren't everywhere. If you wanted malware samples, tools, or even just to understand what the cutting edge looked like, you depended on people. Specifically, you depended on the few who could travel.
We had officers who would go to conferences like Black Hat and DEF CON in the U.S., and when they came back, they didn't just bring stories — they brought back artefacts. Tools on CDs and thumb drives. Notes scribbled down. Sometimes even books. Actual physical books from publishers like No Starch Press. Shipping was painful. E-books weren't really a thing yet. You couldn't just download your way into knowledge.
So we waited. And when they returned, we learned.
At the same time, something else was happening.
Podcasts were becoming a thing. iPods, iTunes. Suddenly, you could plug into a different world. For me, it was PaulDotCom, Hack Naked TV. Every day, I would listen to them on the way to camp. Somewhere along the way, I started to feel it.
Not just admiration. Envy.
There was something about the Western ecosystem. The way they spoke. The way they shared. The way there was a sense of community. Not just individuals doing cybersecurity as a job, but people living it as a craft, as a culture.
We didn't quite have that.
We had glimpses of it. Before that, as a student, I had the chance to be part of a cybersecurity Special Interest Group called SIG^2. It was one of those spaces where things just happened. We learned OllyDbg together. We went overseas for CTFs. We contributed to projects like The Honeynet Project. Just people showing up, learning, building, sharing. Unfortunately, it eventually faded. That's a story for another day.
So, I started ranting.
Not publicly. Not on social media. Just daily conversations. To my officers. To anyone who would listen. About how we needed something like that again. About how we could build it. About how Singapore could have a stronger, tighter hacker community.
Day after day. Rant after rant.
After months of this, one of my closest officers — let's call him Mike — finally had enough. Not of the idea. Of me. He handed me $200 and said:
"Go buy a domain name and execute. Don't just complain. Your rant is already a plan."
So I did.
That was how Edgis started. A SIG. An attempt to recreate something I felt was missing post-SIG^2.
That SIG eventually evolved. Today, you know it as Division Zero (Div0).
Over the years, I've come to realise something.
A good rant is never just a complaint. It's a signal.
It means you care enough to notice. It means you've thought enough to see what's missing. And if you stay with it long enough, it usually means you already have an idea of what better looks like.
In Div0, some of the best builders didn't start as volunteers. They started as critics.
After the first SINCON in 2018, Kia Meng came to me with a detailed breakdown of everything we could have done better. Community engagement, flow, experience. It wasn't a casual comment. It was thoughtful. Precise. Intentional.
So I told him: "Good. You're in charge."
He's been my Head Crew at SINCON ever since. And he's never disappointed.
Everything is a call to action. If you choose to answer it.
Which brings me to v0id_deck.
It started as a familiar feeling. The same one.
We've built something meaningful with Div0 over the years. Events, programmes, communities. But so much of what happens in between goes undocumented. Stories fade. Experiments are forgotten. Culture becomes fragmented. At the same time, the industry has grown. Faster, bigger, more structured. Certifications. Career paths. Professionalisation. All good things.
But somewhere along the way, cybersecurity started becoming just a job. Less of a craft. Less of a culture.
So the question became simple.
Why are we always waiting for someone else to tell our stories?
Why are we looking to external media to cover what we're building here, when we already have the people, the voices, the perspective? Why not build our own?
That answer is v0id_deck. Part hackerzine. Part digital media. Part experiment.
A space where we don't just publish what is polished, but what is real. Technical write-ups, yes. But also half-formed ideas. Failures. Reflections. Art. Culture. The in-between.
If Div0 is about bringing people together, then v0id_deck is our void deck. A space where conversations happen, where ideas collide, where culture is formed in plain sight.
As the name suggests, v0id is never empty. It draws. It connects. It creates gravity.
This is also where #BornToHack comes in.
The idea that being in cybersecurity isn't just about skillsets or certifications. It's about mindset. To explore. To discover. To build. To collaborate. To push beyond what is given.
(That's a bigger story. One we can get into properly in the next issue or so.)
For now, this is the start. Not perfect. Not complete. But intentional.
So if you've ever felt that frustration — that something is missing, that something could be better — don't ignore it. Sit with it. Follow it. Build from it.
Because sometimes, the best things we create start with a good rant.