Every legacy .NET Framework app got this way for reasons — business decisions from 2011, load-bearing workarounds nobody documents, abstractions someone shaped because off-the-shelf wasn't good enough. I read those reasons before I touch the code, then modernize incrementally — in production, without big-bang risk.
Book a triage callYour app compiled clean in Visual Studio 2019. In VS 2022 / .NET 8 it doesn't. Migration looks "obvious in theory" but every dev says "not it." That's where I come in.
I don't have tiers or packages. Every .NET codebase has its own history, its own constraints, its own reasons the obvious fix won't work. I've never done the same modernization twice — that's the part I enjoy, finding the path that fits the particular system in front of me, not reapplying a template.
What I can describe is how engagements usually begin. The first week is mostly listening: your code, your tests (or absence of them), your deploy path, where pain has been accumulating. I'm looking for seams — places where a new pattern can land without breaking what's already working. At the end of that week you have a written plan: what's worth doing, in what order, with what risk. Whether I'm the right person to carry it out is a separate conversation.
If we continue, I work alongside your team in your repository, on your branches, through your review process. My goal is that when my part is done, your engineers can keep going on their own — not that you need me back next quarter.
I tend to do my best work when a team is stuck — looking at a rewrite proposal that feels too risky, a migration that stalled halfway, or a backend where every change takes three times as long as it should. Those usually aren't problems that need a bigger team or a faster framework. They need someone patient enough to find the path forward calmly. That's the conversation I'm here for.