Our Manifesto
We grew up with posters on our walls.
You know the ones. A car that felt like freedom. A footballer mid-celebration, frozen in glory. A band poster that made you feel like someone understood you. A movie that cracked open something inside you. They weren't decoration. They were declarations — of who you were, what you believed in, what you wanted to become.
They were physical. You could touch them. You put them up yourself. That act meant something.
Then the world went digital. And the walls went blank.
Think about a baby's room — bursting with colour, with wonder, with personality. Every wall alive.
Now think about what happens as that child grows up. The posters come down. The walls get repainted. A clean, empty, neutral colour takes over. As if somewhere along the way, we decided that passion belongs on a screen and not in the room you actually live in.
We forgot that the things pinned to our walls were doing something important. They were making us aspire. They were making us believe.
Subumi is about bringing that back.
Not as nostalgia for its own sake. As a philosophy.
Because your console, your phone, your laptop — these aren't just devices. They're surfaces. Surfaces that sit on your desk, in your bag, in your hands, every single day. And right now, most of them are blank. We think that's a waste.
What if your PS5 carried the energy of the game that changed how you see storytelling? What if your phone wore the colours of the team you bleed for? What if your laptop reminded you, every time you opened it, of the thing that first made you feel like anything was possible?
It's not a skin. It's an extension of your passions — on the devices you live on every day.
For who you are. And who you were.
Still building their walls, still discovering what fires them up. Gaming, anime, sport, pop culture, film. Whatever your world is, we want to live on the surfaces closest to you. To remind you daily: your passions are worth celebrating. Your obsessions are not childish. They are you.
Who maybe had Sachin mid-drive pinned above their study desk, or a Lamborghini Diablo torn out of Auto India on the bedroom wall, or a Linkin Park poster pulled from a Rolling Stone and taped up with more hope than technique. That feeling when you look at those images? That's not just nostalgia. That's a reminder of who you were at your most alive — when anything felt possible and the world hadn't yet told you to be practical. We haven't forgotten you. We're bringing it back.
The Origin.
We fell in love with games the way you fall in love with a person — suddenly and completely. From the first time we saw a PS1, something clicked. And it never stopped.
As designers, we understood what it cost to create the worlds inside those games. The characters, the art direction, the colour choices — hundreds of people spending years making something that would live, briefly, on a TV screen. And then disappear the moment you turned the console off.
We thought: what if that art didn't have to disappear? What if it could live on the console itself — permanently, physically — as a tribute to the craft and a reminder of the experience?
Phones. Laptops. Wall art. Art frames. Wallpapers. Every surface that's part of your daily life is a surface that could carry meaning, personality, and inspiration.
And one day — when we're ready, and the world is watching — we want to sit across from the game studios, the film houses, the sports federations, and say: let us celebrate what you've made. Let us put it in people's hands, in their homes, on the things they touch every day.
That's the dream. We're building towards it one skin at a time.
The blank wall is the enemy. We're here to fill it.
A note on how we create.
Everything we make begins as original design work — our interpretation, our craft, our hands. We are fans before we are a business, and that shapes everything we create: a tribute, in a medium that's ours — vinyl, precision-cut, made to live on your devices.
We have deep respect for the artists, studios and creators whose worlds inspire us. We believe the best way to honour great art is to keep it alive — in new forms, on new surfaces, for new generations.
Building something
worth talking about?
Product, collab idea, distribution angle — if it's real, this is the door for it.