Blog TSK

Lexus LX 700h Overtrail Review: Overbuilt for the Road and That’s the Point

I spent a week with the 2025 Lexus LX 700h Overtrail on a family road trip. Not crawling over rocks. Not testing approach angles. Just driving, for hours, across highways and through small towns with my family loaded in.

Designer: Lexus

The Overtrail package is engineered for terrain I never touched. Electronically locking front and rear differentials. A torsen center diff. 33-inch all-terrain tires mounted on 18-inch wheels. Multi-Terrain Select with crawl control and downhill assist. Lexus built this thing to climb, descend, and articulate through conditions that would strand most luxury SUVs.

I used it to pick up coffee and cover 400 miles of interstate.

That disconnect sounds like a waste. It isn’t. The Overtrail’s capability translates into something unexpected on pavement: confidence that borders on calm.

Design Intent: Restraint Over Spectacle

Most off-road trims exaggerate aggression. Overtrail does the opposite. It reads like industrial equipment that happens to be finished well.

My tester arrived in Desert Moon Beige, a color that does real design work. In overcast light, it leans neutral and slightly cool. In direct sun, it warms without becoming flashy. There’s no metallic sparkle, no high-contrast drama. The finish behaves like a muted architectural surface, and that restraint helps the LX feel calmer and less imposing despite its size. For a vehicle this large, color choice matters more than most buyers realize. Desert Moon Beige actively reduces perceived bulk.

The Overtrail-specific dark spindle grille anchors the front fascia with no chrome and no bright interruptions. Horizontal slat density visually lowers the nose and widens the stance. The black surround ties directly into lower cladding and wheel arch trim, creating a continuous dark band that grounds the vehicle from every angle. Headlights sit high and slim, emphasizing width rather than height. The LED signature reads clean and controlled, not aggressive.

Wheel choice plays a bigger role than it first appears. The 18-inch black wheels with tall all-terrain sidewalls visually compress the body and soften the stance. That extra tire volume signals off-road intent, but it also calms the design. Larger wheels would have sharpened the edges and made the LX feel top-heavy. Instead, Overtrail looks grounded and planted, even parked. Tire tread is visible but not visually loud. Capable at rest, quiet in motion.

My vehicle included two options worth noting. Black side steps visually lower the body line and materially improve daily usability, making entry and exit easier on a family road trip without making the vehicle look less capable. A roof rack subtly changes the silhouette and adds a hint of expedition intent, but it remains proportionally integrated and introduces no visual clutter or noticeable wind noise. Both are optional, not standard, and both reinforce the configured nature of this specific vehicle.

Nothing about Overtrail pretends to be lightweight or sporty. The surfaces are thick. Panel gaps look engineered for durability, not minimized for show. It feels designed to survive abrasion, dust, and neglect without losing its identity. In this exact configuration, the LX 700h Overtrail looks intentional, grounded, and restrained. It doesn’t read as an off-road costume. It reads as a long-distance vehicle that happens to be engineered far beyond what most daily driving demands. That material honesty carries into the cabin.

Cabin Design: Luxury Filtered Through Utility

Inside, Overtrail prioritizes clarity, durability, and spatial calm. These qualities become obvious after hours behind the wheel.

The seats deserve specific credit. Cushions are broad and upright, with a firmness that supports posture rather than sinking you in. On a road trip, this matters more than initial plushness. Hours in, fatigue stays low. Lexus tuned these seats for sustained comfort, not showroom softness.

Material choices reinforce that goal. Leather surfaces feel resilient rather than delicate. Trim finishes avoid gloss in favor of textures that diffuse light. In changing daylight conditions, the cabin stays visually quiet. No glare. No sparkle. That reduces cognitive load on long highway stretches.

The dual-screen layout finally makes sense in this context. The upper 12.3-inch display handles navigation and media without feeling crowded. The lower 7-inch screen anchors climate and vehicle functions in a fixed visual zone. This separation reduces hunting for controls. Muscle memory builds quickly when you’re driving for hours rather than minutes.

Physical controls deserve credit. Knobs and buttons for key functions feel deliberate and weighted. Lexus resisted the urge to bury everything in menus, and that restraint pays off when you’re adjusting climate or audio repeatedly during a 6-hour drive.

Powertrain: Hybrid Torque Without Drama

The 3.4-liter twin-turbo V6 hybrid pairs with a high-torque electric motor and 10-speed automatic. Output reaches 457 horsepower and 583 pound-feet of torque, significantly more twist than the non-hybrid LX600.

On paper, those numbers suggest performance ambitions. In practice, the hybrid system plays a subtler role. It smooths transitions and fills gaps rather than announcing itself.

Throttle response feels immediate without being jumpy. Low-speed acceleration is effortless, especially when merging or climbing grades. The electric assist masks turbo lag and prevents the drivetrain from feeling strained under load. At highway speeds, the LX settles into a relaxed cruising rhythm. Engine noise stays muted. Gear changes are unobtrusive.

The vehicle never feels confused about its identity. Power delivery remains linear and confident, reinforcing the sense that this is a long-distance machine. EPA ratings land at 19 city, 22 highway, and 20 combined. Real-world highway testing shows around 20 mpg on premium fuel. The roughly 22-gallon fuel tank helps offset the hybrid system’s modest efficiency gains, though range still trails some non-hybrid rivals due to weight and tire choice. Off-road tire fitment can drop economy nearer to 13 mpg in demanding conditions. For my highway-heavy week, fuel stops came more often than expected but never felt punishing.

Ride Quality: The Overtrail Surprise

This is where the experience becomes genuinely interesting.

Despite the aggressive tire and suspension setup, the LX 700h Overtrail rides with unexpected composure on the highway. No constant jiggle. No nervous vertical motion. Expansion joints and uneven pavement are absorbed with a controlled, damped response rather than sharp impacts.

The tall sidewalls do significant work here, but suspension tuning deserves equal credit. Lexus prioritized body control over stiffness. The vehicle settles quickly after bumps, maintaining a sense of mass without sluggishness. It doesn’t float, but it doesn’t punish either.

At highway speeds, the cabin remains impressively insulated. Tire noise is present but subdued, more of a distant texture than a distraction. Wind noise stays low, even around the mirrors and A-pillars. That achievement isn’t trivial given the LX’s frontal area.

Long stretches reveal another strength. The ride stays consistent over time. Some off-road oriented vehicles feel fine initially, then wear you down. Overtrail maintains its composure. After hours, it still feels predictable and settled.

Steering and Control: Calm Over Sharpness

Steering feel aligns with the rest of the design philosophy. It isn’t sporty, but it’s precise enough to inspire confidence.

On-center stability is strong, which reduces constant micro-corrections on the highway. The wheel weights up naturally at speed, reinforcing a sense of control rather than urgency.

In corners, the LX reminds you of its 6,000-plus pounds. But it manages weight transfer gracefully. No sudden lean. No delayed response. Everything happens predictably. That predictability becomes a form of comfort on long drives.

Driver assistance systems stay mostly out of the way. Lane keeping and adaptive cruise work quietly in the background without aggressive corrections. That restraint fits the Overtrail personality. The vehicle supports the driver rather than competing for attention.

The Off-Road Hardware You May Never Use

The Overtrail package isn’t cosmetic. The hardware is real.

Front and rear electronically locking differentials provide genuine capability. The torsen center diff, front skid plate, and 33-inch all-terrain tires on 18-inch wheels add articulation and low-speed control that matter on dirt and rock. Multi-Terrain Select, crawl control, and downhill assist mean Lexus built systems for conditions most owners will never encounter.

Physical buttons for drive modes make it both automatic point-and-shoot capable and manually configurable for serious terrain. Reviewers who have tested Overtrail in off-road conditions confirm it performs. I simply chose not to.

That choice reveals the real achievement. Lexus engineered an off-road package that doesn’t dominate the on-road experience. The hardware adds capability without injecting harshness, noise, or visual chaos into daily use.

What Lexus Got Right and What They Didn’t

The interior craftsmanship is excellent. High-end materials and supportive seats make long drives comfortable. Physical controls for essential functions feel deliberate and earned. Safety technology is plentiful.

The digital user experience is less cohesive. The dual-screen infotainment can feel disjointed and layered in ways that take time to internalize. Some competitors offer more advanced hands-free driver assistance. Cargo space is modest with the third row up, though it grows significantly when folded. The third row itself is tight for adults.

At six-figure pricing, starting around $114,500 to $119,000 before options, some buyers may expect interior richness that matches or exceeds European benchmarks. Lexus delivers refinement and durability, but the cabin doesn’t scream opulence. It whispers capability.

The Design Takeaway

The LX 700h Overtrail is not an off-road cosplay vehicle that sacrifices road comfort. It’s a long-distance luxury SUV that happens to be overbuilt for terrain you may never touch.

From a design perspective, that’s the real achievement. Ruggedness doesn’t need to announce itself loudly. Sometimes the most confident design choice is letting capability exist quietly beneath the surface.

I drove it across states with my family. The off-road hardware sat unused, but its presence shaped everything about how the vehicle behaved. The mass felt intentional. The composure felt earned. The confidence felt deserved.

For buyers who want genuine capability without the aesthetic compromise, Overtrail makes a compelling argument. You’re paying for engineering that may never be tested, but you feel it every mile anyway.

Price: Starting at $114,500 (Overtrail trim)

Powertrain: 3.4L twin-turbo V6 hybrid, 457 hp, 583 lb-ft

Fuel Economy: 19 city / 22 highway / 20 combined (EPA)

Key Features: Electronically locking front/rear differentials, 33-inch all-terrain tires, Multi-Terrain Select, adaptive suspension, dual-screen infotainment with physical controls

The post Lexus LX 700h Overtrail Review: Overbuilt for the Road and That’s the Point first appeared on Yanko Design.

Antigravity A1 Review: Reimagining What a Drone Feels Like to Fly

Antigravity is Insta360’s bold experiment in what happens when a 360‑camera company stops thinking only about the camera and starts redesigning the entire act of flying. It is an independent drone brand, incubated by Insta360, built on the same obsession with immersive imaging and playful storytelling, but free to rethink the aircraft, the controls, and the viewing experience as one coherent object. Instead of asking how to strap a 360 camera onto a drone, Antigravity asks how to make the whole system feel like a natural extension of your point of view.

Antigravity A1 is the first expression of that idea. It is a compact 8K 360 drone that arrives as a complete kit, with Vision goggles and a single‑hand Grip controller that you steer with subtle tilts and gestures. You do not fly it by staring at a phone and juggling twin sticks. You put on the goggles, step into a 360‑degree bubble of imagery, and guide the drone by moving your hand in the direction you want to travel. What was the experience with Antigravity A1 like? We tested it to bring you that answer.

Designer: Antigravity

Aesthetics

Antigravity A1 presents itself more as a system than a single object. There is the compact drone with its dual cameras, the Vision goggles, and the one‑hand Grip controller. Visually, the aircraft itself is quite understated. Aside from the two opposing lenses and the leg that shields the lower camera on the ground, it looks like a neat, functional quadcopter. The drama is reserved for what the system does, not how the airframe shouts for attention.

The Vision goggles lean into an almost character-like, even bug-like look, especially when you fold up the black antennas on each side that resemble insect feelers. The front shell is white with two large, dark circular eyes, giving the whole front a slightly cartoonish face. In between and just above those eyes sits an inverted triangle-shaped grille with a subtle Antigravity logo, adding a small technical accent without breaking the simplicity.  The fabric strap and thick face padding sit behind this front mask. Wearing the goggles does look strange at first, but in a strangely cool way.

 
The Grip motion controller has a white plastic shell with buttons and a dial that uses color and icon cues to hint at their functions. On the back, a black trigger-style pull bar sits where your index finger naturally rests. There are additional buttons on each side. The mix of white body, black accents, and clearly marked controls makes the Grip look approachable rather than intimidating, which suits a controller that is meant to translate simple hand movements into flight.

Overall, the drone, goggles, and controller share a cohesive design language. They all use the same soft white shell, black accents, and gently rounded forms. The whole kit feels like a single, intentional system rather than three unrelated gadgets.

Ergonomics

The Vision goggles are where comfort really matters, and Antigravity has clearly spent time on fit. The goggles weigh 340 grams, yet the padding and strap geometry distribute that weight in a way that avoids obvious pressure points, even during longer sessions. The side that meets your face feels soft and accommodating, so the hardware never feels harsh. Once the 360-degree image appears, the headset fades faster than you might expect, which is exactly what you want from an immersive device. Optional corrective inserts mean many glasses wearers can enjoy a sharp view without wrestling frames under the band, which makes the experience more inclusive and less fussy.

Power for the goggles lives in a separate battery pack that you can wear on a lanyard around your neck. At 175 grams, it is not heavy, but over time, it can feel slightly cumbersome to have it hanging there, especially when you are moving around. Antigravity sells a 1.2 metre (3.9 foot) USB-C to DC power cable that lets you route the battery to a trouser pocket or bag instead, which makes the whole setup feel less dangly and more integrated.

You adjust the head strap with velcro, which works, but it is not perfect. A small buckle or hinge mechanism would make it much easier to put the goggles on or take them off while wearing a hat, without having to readjust the strap length every time. It is a minor detail, yet it shows how close the design already is. You start wishing for refinements, not fixes.

The Grip controller is where Antigravity’s ergonomic thinking really shows. It rests comfortably in one hand, with a form that supports a natural, slightly relaxed grip rather than a tense, clawed hold. For my hand, it is just a tiny bit on the large side, enough to notice but not enough to break the experience. This is very much nitpicking, and it actually underlines how well resolved the controller already is. When you are down to debating a few millimetres of girth, it means the fundamentals of comfort and control are in a very good place.

Performance

My experience with Antigravity A1 actually started at IFA in Berlin in early September. Outside the exhibition halls, I slipped on the Vision goggles while an Antigravity staff member flew the drone. As the A1 lifted and the IFA venue unfolded beneath me in every direction, my legs actually shivered a little, even though I like heights. Being wrapped in a live 360-degree view felt less like watching a screen and more like I was flying. That first taste was magical, which made me both excited and nervous to test the A1 myself later. I had almost crashed a friend’s drone years ago and had not flown since, so my piloting skills were close to none.

That magic comes with a setup phase that feels more like preparing a small system than turning on a single gadget. The first time you connect the drone, pair the Vision goggles, update firmware, and learn the grip controls, it can feel overwhelming. There are menus on the drone, options in the goggles, and status lights to decode, and they all compete for your attention at once. After a few sessions, it settles into a rhythm, but that initial ramp is something you feel before you ever lift off on your own.

Packing the Antigravity A1 means finding room for the drone, the goggles and their separate battery, and the grip controller, often in a dedicated case or carefully arranged backpack. This nudges the whole experience away from “throw it in your bag just in case” and toward “plan a proper flying session.” The result is that the A1 feels more like a deliberate outing than a casual accessory.

On paper, the A1 looks quite sensible. With the standard battery, it weighs 249 g, staying just under the 250 g threshold that works nicely with regulations in many places, and it offers up to about 24 minutes of flight time in ideal conditions. Pop in the high-capacity battery, and the weight goes over 250 g, but Antigravity quotes up to around 39 minutes in the air. In reality, you get a solid single session per pack and will want spares if you plan to film seriously.

Flight behaviour is also adjustable. There are three flight modes, Cinematic, Normal, and Sport, so you can match how the drone responds to the scene you are flying in. Together with Free Motion and FPV, that gives the A1 enough range to feel relaxed and floaty when you want it, or more direct and energetic when the shot calls for it.

On top of those basics, Antigravity adds automated tools like Sky Genie, Deep Track, and Sky Path. Sky Genie runs preprogrammed patterns that give you smooth, cinematic moves with minimal effort. Deep Track follows a chosen subject automatically, so you can focus more on timing than stick precision. Sky Path lets you record waypoints and have the A1 repeat the route on its own, which is handy for repeated takes or for nervous pilots.

Safety and workflow sit quietly in the background, which is exactly where they should be. Obstacle sensors on the top and bottom help protect the drone when you are close to structures or changes in elevation, and one click Return to Home acts as a psychological parachute. Knowing you can call the drone back with a single command does a lot to calm the nerves, especially if your last memory of drones involves a near crash.

In the United States, FAA rules treat goggle-only flying as beyond visual line of sight, so you are meant to have a visual observer watching the drone while you are wearing the headset. That nudges the A1 away from solo, spur-of-the-moment flights and toward planned sessions with someone beside you acting as spotter.

On the imaging side, the A1 records up to 8K 360-degree video, with lower resolutions unlocking higher frame rates when you want smoother motion. Footage can be stored on internal memory or a microSD card, and you can offload it either by removing the card or plugging in via USB-C, so it slips neatly into most existing editing habits.

The real leap, though, comes from the goggles. They are the thing that truly sets A1 apart from almost every other consumer drone. Instead of glancing down at a phone, you step into an immersive 360-degree view that tracks your head and surrounds your vision. The drone feels less like a gadget in the sky and more like the spot your eyes and body are occupying. A double-tap on the side button flips you into passthrough view, so you can check your surroundings without pulling the headset off, and a tiny outer display mirrors a miniature version of the live feed for people nearby.

That small detail turned out to be important in Bali, where a group of local kids noticed the goggles and the moving image, wandered over, and suddenly found themselves taking turns “flying” above their own neighbourhood. Their gasps, laughter, and stunned silence were as memorable as the footage itself.

The magic continues even after you land. Because the A1 captures everything in 360 degrees, you can decide on your framing after the flight, which feels a bit like getting a second chance at every shot. Antigravity provides both mobile and desktop apps for this, so you can scrub through the sphere, mark angles, and carve out regular flat videos without having to nail every move in real time.

If you have used the Insta360 app, the Antigravity app will feel instantly familiar, with similar timelines, keyframes, and swipe-to-pan gestures. Even if you have not, it is straightforward to learn, helped by clear icons and responsive previews. There is also an AI auto-edit mode that can assemble quick cuts for you, which is handy when you just want something shareable without sinking an evening into manual reframing.

In the end, A1’s performance is not just about how long it stays in the air or how many modes it offers. Those pieces matter, and they are solid, but what you remember is the feeling of lifting off inside the goggles and the ease with which you can hand that experience to someone else. It still behaves like a well-mannered compact drone on the spec sheet, yet in use it edges closer to a shared flying machine, one that turns a patch of ground into a small, temporary viewing platform in the sky.

Sustainability

Antigravity does not make any big sustainability claims with the A1. There is no mention of recycled materials or lower-impact manufacturing, and the packaging and hardware feel very much in line with a typical consumer drone. This is not a product that sells itself on being green, and the company does not pretend otherwise. 

What you do get is some support for repairing rather than replacing. The A1 ships with spare propellers in the box, which encourages you to swap out damaged blades instead of treating minor knocks as the end of the drone. Antigravity also sells replacement lenses, so a scratched front element does not automatically become a total write-off. It is a small step, but it nudges the A1 slightly toward a longer, more fixable life rather than a purely disposable gadget.

Value

The standard Antigravity A1 bundle starts at 1599 USD, with Explorer and Infinity bundles stepping up battery count and accessories for longer, more serious flying. It is undeniably an expensive system, especially compared to regular camera drones that only give you a phone view.

At the same time, what you are really paying for is the experience of being inside the flight and reframing your shots after the fact. That sense of presence and flexibility is hard to put a number on, and for me, it nudges the A1 from “costly gadget” toward something closer to a priceless experience machine, if you know you will actually use it.

Verdict

Antigravity A1 is not the simplest drone in terms of equipment. You are managing goggles, a grip controller, multiple batteries, and in some places, you also need a visual observer if regulations require it. On top of that, the price sits firmly in premium territory. In return, you get a very different kind of flying. At first, setup and piloting can feel overwhelming, but it becomes natural surprisingly quickly, and there are plenty of automated features to help you keep the drone under control and capture cool shots. Combined with 360-degree capture and post-flight reframing in the Antigravity app, it feels less like operating hardware and more like stepping into a movable viewpoint.

If you just want straightforward aerial clips, the A1 is probably more than you need. If you care about immersive perspective and shared experiences, the mix of kit, software, and feeling it delivers starts to justify the cost. It is fussy, ambitious, and occasionally awkward, yet when you are inside that live 360-degree view, it really does reimagine what a drone can feel like to fly.

The post Antigravity A1 Review: Reimagining What a Drone Feels Like to Fly first appeared on Yanko Design.

This Sculptural Bench Captures Sardinia’s Sea in Recycled Resin

You know that moment when you’re standing at the edge of the ocean, watching waves roll in with that hypnotic rhythm that makes everything else fade away? Designer Andrea Ponti wanted to bottle that feeling, and honestly, I think he nailed it with Cresta, a sculptural bench that looks like it was pulled straight from the Mediterranean and frozen in time.

Cresta, which means “crest” in Italian, is more than just a place to sit. It’s a love letter to Sardinia’s coastline, where Ponti grew up surrounded by the kind of natural beauty that gets under your skin and never really leaves. The bench captures that raw, untamed energy of water in motion, translating it into something you can actually touch and experience in your own space. And the best part? It’s made entirely from recycled plastics, proving once again that sustainability and stunning design don’t have to be mutually exclusive.

Designer: Ponti Design Studio

Let’s talk about what makes this piece so visually striking. The color alone is enough to stop you in your tracks. Cresta features a gradient that flows from deep ocean blue at the base to crystal-clear transparency at the top, mimicking the way sunlight filters through water. It’s the kind of detail that makes you want to walk around the piece from every angle, watching how the light plays through the material and creates new patterns depending on where you’re standing.

The texture adds another layer of intrigue. Those fine vertical lines running through the resin give it a tactile quality that invites you to reach out and touch it. From certain angles, it almost looks like the surface is rippling, as if the bench is caught in a perpetual state of movement. It’s a clever trick that keeps the piece feeling alive rather than static.

What really sets Cresta apart is its structure. The bench is composed of two distinct elements that work together to create its distinctive character. The top section is designed for comfort, providing seating for two people. But it’s the bottom that steals the show. That wave-like base isn’t just visually dramatic, it’s the heart of the design, giving Cresta its sculptural identity and making it feel less like furniture and more like a piece of contemporary art that happens to be functional.

Now, about that sustainability angle. Ponti and his team at Ponti Design Studio didn’t just slap some eco-friendly marketing on this project and call it a day. They carefully curated a blend of recycled plastics, including PMMA (acrylic), PET (the stuff in water bottles), PC (polycarbonate), and PS (polystyrene). These materials would otherwise end up in landfills or, ironically, polluting the very oceans that inspired this piece. By transforming waste into something beautiful and functional, Cresta makes a quiet but powerful statement about what’s possible when we rethink our relationship with discarded materials.

This approach feels particularly relevant right now. We’re all drowning in conversations about plastic waste and environmental responsibility, and sometimes it can feel overwhelming and abstract. But when you see something like Cresta, it suddenly clicks. Recycled materials don’t have to look recycled. They don’t have to sacrifice beauty or craftsmanship. In fact, they can become something that people actively want in their homes and public spaces.

The bench would be right at home in a contemporary gallery, a modern office lobby, or even a stylish outdoor space where it could echo the natural environment it celebrates. Its clean aesthetic and sculptural form give it versatility, while that unmistakable wave-inspired silhouette ensures it never fades into the background. What I find most compelling about Cresta is how it manages to be both minimal and dramatic at the same time. There’s nothing extraneous about the design. Every curve, every gradient shift, every textured line serves the larger vision. Yet the overall effect is bold and memorable, the kind of piece that makes people stop and ask questions.

In a world where so much furniture blends together into beige sameness, Cresta stands out as something genuinely different. It’s a reminder that good design can tell a story, honor a place, and push us toward better environmental choices, all while looking absolutely stunning. Andrea Ponti took his memories of Sardinian seas and transformed them into something tangible, something that lets the rest of us experience a little bit of that coastal magic, no plane ticket required.

The post This Sculptural Bench Captures Sardinia’s Sea in Recycled Resin first appeared on Yanko Design.

This Engineer Built a 9-Instrument Orchestra From Vintage Computers

You know that moment when someone takes something impossibly complicated and makes it look like the most natural thing in the world? That’s exactly what happens when you watch Linus Akesson perform Maurice Ravel’s Boléro on nine homemade 8-bit instruments. And honestly, it’s the kind of thing that makes you stop scrolling and just stare.

Akesson isn’t your average musician or engineer. He’s both, which is probably the only way a project like this could exist. The Swedish creator has spent years building custom electronic instruments from vintage computer parts and retro gaming hardware, and this 15-minute performance might just be his magnum opus. We’re talking about a piece that required nearly 10 hours of footage and 52 mixer channels to capture. This isn’t just a fun weekend project. It’s a full-blown technical and artistic achievement.

Designer: Linus Akesson

Ravel’s Boléro is one of those classical pieces that you recognize even if you don’t think you know classical music. It’s hypnotic and repetitive, building slowly over 15 minutes with the same melody cycling through different instruments until it reaches this massive crescendo. It’s also notoriously difficult to perform because of how exposed every musician is. There’s nowhere to hide when you’re playing the same pattern over and over. Now imagine tackling that with a collection of beeping, blooping 8-bit computers that you built yourself.

The instruments in Akesson’s arsenal include things like the Chipophone, an organ-like device that uses old computer sound chips, and the Commodordion, which is essentially a Commodore 64 turned into an accordion. Yes, you read that right. These aren’t instruments you can just buy off the shelf or even find in some obscure music shop. Akesson designed and built them from scratch, combining his deep knowledge of electronics with a genuine love for the aesthetic and sound of vintage computing.

What makes this performance so compelling isn’t just the technical wizardry, though there’s plenty of that. It’s the way Akesson treats these humble, squeaky sounds with the same reverence you’d give to a string section in a concert hall. Chiptune music, the genre that emerged from early video game soundtracks, often gets dismissed as novelty. But in Akesson’s hands, it becomes something genuinely moving. The piece still builds, still swells, still commands your attention the way Ravel intended.

There’s something deeply satisfying about watching someone honor both the past and the present in the same breath. Akesson isn’t trying to prove that 8-bit sounds are better than traditional orchestras, and he’s not making a joke out of classical music. He’s finding a middle ground where nostalgia, craftsmanship, and artistry all meet. It’s retro without being kitsch. It’s technically impressive without being cold or showy.

The video itself is a treat for anyone who loves behind-the-scenes peeks at creative processes. You see Akesson switching between instruments, his workspace cluttered with wires and vintage gear, every sound painstakingly triggered and mixed. It’s a one-man orchestra in the truest sense, except the orchestra is made of machines that were obsolete before many of us were born. In a world where we’re constantly told to upgrade, to move forward, to embrace the newest and shiniest technology, there’s something quietly rebellious about what Akesson does. He takes the discarded, the outdated, the supposedly useless and turns it into art. And not just functional art or conceptual art. Beautiful art. The kind that makes you feel something.

If you’re someone who gets excited about the intersection of design, technology, and culture, this project is basically catnip. It’s proof that limitations can breed creativity, that old technology still has stories to tell, and that sometimes the best way to appreciate a classic is to reimagine it completely. Akesson’s 8-Bit Boléro doesn’t replace the original. It sits alongside it, offering a new way to hear something we thought we already knew.

So do yourself a favor and watch it. Turn up the volume, let those retro beeps wash over you, and marvel at what one person with vision and skill can create. It might just change how you think about what’s possible when art and engineering collide.

The post This Engineer Built a 9-Instrument Orchestra From Vintage Computers first appeared on Yanko Design.

This DIY AI Astronaut Looks Like a Desk Toy Until You Ask It Questions

Most DIY AI gadgets are bare boards and wires, or at best a 3D-printed box, and that clashes with the idea of leaving them on a shelf or side table. Even clever builds end up looking like projects rather than finished objects. D. Creative’s tiny AI robot is a counterexample, a chatbot built inside a toy astronaut that looks like decor first and a smart assistant second, making it actually display-worthy.

The basic concept is a small astronaut figurine that you can talk to, which talks back using a cloud LLM. All the electronics, ESP32-S3, mic, amp, speaker, battery, and OLED, are hidden inside the toy shell, so on a desk it reads as a cute space figure until it lights up and answers a question or starts blinking to show it is listening.

Designer: D. Creative

The internals pack tightly. An ESP32-S3 Super Mini acts as the brain, a digital I²S microphone hears you, a matching I²S amplifier and tiny speaker reply, and a 300 mAh battery with a charging board keeps it running. The 0.96-inch OLED is tucked into the helmet as the robot’s face, giving the AI a place to look back from when you address it or ask for help.

The builder gutted a light-up astronaut toy, drilled a few holes for buttons and a USB port, and then packed the new hardware inside before closing it back up. This is not a 3D-printed shell but an existing object repurposed, which keeps the proportions and charm of the original toy while hiding the complexity and making the result feel less like a gadget and more like a character.

The interaction loop is straightforward. You speak, the mic captures your voice, the ESP32 sends it over Wi-Fi to a speech-to-text service and then to the Qwen3 LLM, the response comes back as text, and a text-to-speech engine turns it into audio for the speaker. The astronaut’s OLED changes expression to show when it is listening, thinking, or ready to answer, turning a text exchange into something more animated.

Putting the same kind of chatbot you might use in a browser into a toy astronaut changes the relationship. The presence of a body, a face, and a fixed spot on your desk makes the assistant feel more like a little character you share space with, and less like a disembodied voice that lives somewhere in the cloud and has no opinion on where it sits.

This project hints at a pattern other makers can borrow, taking familiar objects and quietly giving them new capabilities instead of always starting from scratch. A tiny AI astronaut that fits into a home without looking like a project points toward a future where more of our everyday decor hides small, conversational brains, and where the line between toy and tool gets pleasantly blurry, with AI companions that feel more like friends than appliances waiting for commands.

The post This DIY AI Astronaut Looks Like a Desk Toy Until You Ask It Questions first appeared on Yanko Design.

Jetbeam E28 Review: The Swiss Army Knife of EDC Flashlights Finally Exists

Most flashlights ask you to choose. Throw or flood. Pocket size or runtime. A simple beam or specialty features. Jetbeam’s E28 walks into the room and suggests you stop choosing altogether. This flat, brick-shaped EDC light packs dual independently controlled white beams (one flood, one throw), a 365 nm UV emitter, a 520 nm green laser, an RGB side strip with nine modes, and a 7,000 mAh power bank into a single 251-gram body. It is the sort of design that makes you wonder whether the engineers were trying to solve real problems or just win a feature-count contest.

Here’s the thing: the spec sheet sounds like overkill until you actually think about the situations where you need more than a basic beam. Checking a hotel room for cleanliness with UV. Using the laser as a presentation pointer by day and a pet toy by night. Mounting the light magnetically under a car hood while the flood beam lights your work and the throw beam spotlights a distant part number. The E28 is betting that enough people want a true multi-tool in flashlight form, and the early reviews suggest Jetbeam might be onto something.

Designer: Jetbeam

Click Here to Buy Now: $87.45 $159.95 (45% off). Hurry, only a few left!

Two 18650 cells sit inside a flat aluminum body measuring 107.6 × 48 × 26.6 mm, delivering 7,000 mAh of total capacity. That translates to 8.3 hours at 500 lumens in flood mode or 13.2 hours at 300 lumens in throw mode, which are the runtimes that actually matter when you cannot swap batteries mid-hike. Moonlight mode allegedly hits 350 hours, though nobody is realistically running a light that dim for two weeks straight. The dual-cell setup adds weight, pushing the E28 to 251 grams with batteries installed, but that heft comes with the benefit of never worrying about your light dying during an evening walk or a weekend camping trip.

Jetbeam gave each beam its own proper optics instead of cramming compromised emitters into a too-small head. The flood side uses a 7070 LED with a wide, shallow reflector, maxing out at 3,300 lumens (briefly, before stepping down to 1,500 then 1,000 as heat builds). It is a wall of light that illuminates everything within 10 meters with zero shadows, exactly what you want for close work or navigating a dark campsite. The throw channel uses a Luminus SFT-42R with a smooth, focused reflector, hitting 2,480 lumens and reaching 365 meters with a 33,375-candela hotspot. That is search-and-rescue level throw from a light you can slip into a jacket pocket. Running both channels simultaneously gives you a beam profile with bright center punch and complete peripheral coverage, which is how dual-beam lights should work but rarely do because most manufacturers cheap out on one emitter or the other.

A rotary dial handles mode switching, which immediately sets this apart from the “click seventeen times to find strobe” nonsense that plagues most multi-mode lights. Rotate to flood, throw, dual-beam, UV, laser, or RGB, then tap the side button to turn on or cycle brightness. It takes maybe ten minutes to learn and then becomes completely intuitive. You can operate it one-handed even with gloves because the dial has positive detents and the button is chunky and easy to find by feel. Jetbeam clearly spent time thinking about how people actually use lights in the field instead of just designing a UI that looks good on paper.

The UV emitter sits on one side at 365 nm, which is proper ultraviolet (not the 395 nm purple wash that cheap lights use). This wavelength makes currency security features glow, reveals pet stains on carpets, highlights HVAC leak-detection dye, and generally makes invisible contaminants visible. If you work in automotive, HVAC, or forensics, this is a tool you already carry separately. If you travel frequently and care about hotel cleanliness, same deal. For everyone else, it is a fun party trick that might come in handy twice a year. The 520 nm green laser sits opposite, useful for presentations, pointing out distant landmarks, or entertaining pets. It is low-powered enough to be safe but bright enough to be visible across a parking lot at night. The RGB strip runs along the side with nine different modes: solid colors, breathing patterns, meteor effects, rainbow flow. Red light preserves night vision when you are reading maps. Multicolor modes create ambient lighting at camp or act as fill light for photos. Solid white functions as a secondary task light. Some people will use this constantly; others will turn it on once, say “neat,” and forget it exists.

Aerospace-grade aluminum with HA III hard anodizing means the body can take scratches, drops, and general abuse without looking like it fell off a truck. The machining cuts along the flat sides double as heat fins and grip texture, which is functional design instead of just aesthetics. IPX8 waterproofing handles 2 meters of submersion, and the USB-C port hides behind a sealed rubber cover. The magnetic tail holds firm on steel surfaces even when the light is pumping out heat on high mode, making hands-free work actually practical. A removable clip mounts in either direction for cap-brim carry, backpack straps, or belt attachment, and the base plate is compatible with GoPro-style action camera mounts, so you can stick this on bike handlebars, helmets, or quick-release brackets.

The power bank function turns 7,000 mAh of onboard capacity into emergency phone charging via USB-C. You can fully charge most phones at least once, which makes the E28 useful during power outages or long days away from outlets. It is not replacing a dedicated battery bank, but as something that lives in your car or go-bag anyway, having that backup option adds real value. The RGB strip shows battery status for five seconds on power-up, cycling through colors to indicate remaining charge, which is smarter than trying to guess voltage by how bright the beam looks.

Jetbeam ships the E28 with two 3,500 mAh 18650 cells, a USB-C cable, lanyard, mounting clip, hardware, and a hex wrench, so you can use it immediately without buying accessories. Pricing lands at $87.45 with 2 color options to choose from – a tactical green, and a classic grey, which feels reasonable for a light that consolidates a flood beam, throw beam, UV source, laser pointer, and power bank into one 251-gram package. If you already carry multiple single-purpose tools, the E28 is the Swiss Army knife consolidation you did not know you needed. If your lighting needs are simple, a $25 single-beam EDC  or even your phone’s flashlight will serve you fine. But for anyone who regularly finds themselves thinking “I wish I had X tool right now,” Jetbeam built exactly that.

Click Here to Buy Now: $87.45 $159.95 (45% off). Hurry, only a few left!

The post Jetbeam E28 Review: The Swiss Army Knife of EDC Flashlights Finally Exists first appeared on Yanko Design.

The Dial That Swallowed the Watch

Most dive watches announce themselves through function: rotating bezels, legible numerals, confidence-inspiring depth ratings. The Nereide Opale acknowledges all of that, then pivots. Venezianico constructed a 200-meter tool watch with a tungsten bezel and Swiss automatic movement, but none of those details survive first contact. The dial dominates. Blue shifts to green shifts to purple shifts to pink as the wrist rotates, a geometric light show housed in familiar steel.

Designer: Nereide Opale

The design bet is specific. Venezianico assumes a buyer who already owns the matte-dial diver, the heritage reissue, the affordable Swiss workhorse. This watch exists for the collector who wants to break the pattern, to own something that photographs like nothing else in the box.

Kyocera’s Controlled Chaos

Natural opal presents challenges for production watchmaking. According to the Gemological Institute of America, high heat or sudden temperature changes can fracture opal and cause crazing, a network of fine cracks that destroys the stone’s visual appeal. Add the inconsistency of natural specimens, where one piece might display dramatic fire and the next a muddy gray, and the material becomes impractical for a 500-piece limited run. Venezianico needed opal’s visual effect without the gemstone’s vulnerabilities.

Kyocera, the Japanese ceramics company, developed an alternative decades ago. Their lab-grown material reproduces the layered internal structure that creates opal’s color play: light enters, bounces between microscopic layers, and exits as a spectrum of shifting hues. The composition, 80 percent silica and 20 percent clear resin according to Venezianico’s specifications, yields a dial plate stable enough to machine cleanly and survive the thermal cycles a dive watch encounters.

The result reads differently than natural stone. Where a mined opal might show soft, nebulous color zones, the Kyocera material presents sharper facets, more crystalline geometry. The rainbow effect is more deliberate, more designed. Some buyers will prefer the organic randomness of natural opal. Others will appreciate that each of the 500 Nereide Opale dials carries unique patterning without the lottery of stone selection.

Practical concerns disappear. The dial survives the thermal cycles a dive watch encounters. It accepts the date aperture at three without cracking. And Venezianico can promise visual consistency across a limited run, something impossible with harvested material.

Steel as Stage

Every design decision surrounding the dial serves a single purpose: stay neutral. The 42mm case wears a mix of brushed flanks and polished bevels, the standard dive-watch treatment, but entirely in silvered steel. The five-link Sansovino bracelet continues the theme: metallic, reflective, monochrome. No color. No contrast. No competition.

The hands required particular care. Venezianico chose an obelisk profile, tapering to a point, finished in mirror polish. Against the shifting opal, they occasionally catch light and flash, but they never anchor the eye. Applied baton hour markers follow the same logic: minimal, metallic, filled with Super-LumiNova for low-light legibility but invisible against the dial’s daytime performance.

Typography stays restrained. The applied cross logo at twelve uses the same polished metal as the hands. The date window at three sits in a polished frame that matches the logo. A colored date wheel, a contrasting brand name, any additional detail would fracture the opal’s dominance. Venezianico understood this and resisted.

The overall effect is a watch that reads as a single material statement. Steel holds the opal. Opal performs. Everything else recedes.

Tungsten as Anchor

The bezel insert breaks the monochrome, but only in value, not hue. Tungsten’s deep gray sits between bright steel and the kaleidoscopic dial, a tonal step-down that prevents the transition from feeling jarring. The material choice is also functional: tungsten rates 9 on the Mohs hardness scale against stainless steel’s 5, making the rotating bezel highly scratch resistant in normal daily wear.

The 60-minute dive scale, the lume pip at twelve, the coin edge for grip: none of this is novel. But tungsten elevates familiar geometry. The material carries literal weight, densifying the watch’s top half, and perceptual weight, grounding a piece that might otherwise feel purely decorative.

The Workhorse Inside

Venezianico selected the Sellita SW200-1, the Swiss automatic that powers divers from Christopher Ward to Marathon to Unimatic. The 4Hz beat rate represents proven reliability, not innovation. Power reserve figures vary across coverage, with some outlets reporting 38 hours and others 41, and Venezianico’s official spec sheet omits the number entirely. Expect something in that range. The movement answers mechanical questions without drama, leaving the dial to carry the conversation.

Through the exhibition caseback, a customized rotor appears with radial Côtes de Genève finishing, a gesture toward decoration that stops short of competing with the front side. The rotor treatment suggests care without demanding attention, exactly the balance the watch needs.

The movement choice anchors value. At 1,395 USD (1,295 EUR), the Nereide Opale occupies the same price bracket as competitors using conventional dials. The Kyocera opal and tungsten bezel represent material upgrades at cost parity, the kind of calculation that rewards enthusiasts who know what they are giving up (nothing) and what they are gaining (a dial that behaves like no other in the segment).

Five Hundred Pieces, One Specific Buyer

Venezianico caps production at 500 numbered examples, with preorders opening December 24. The exact time varies by source: Venezianico’s communications indicate 3:00 PM GMT+1, while at least one outlet reports 2:00 PM GMT. If timing matters to you, confirm directly on Venezianico’s signup page before the window opens. The scarcity is real but modest: enough to create urgency, not so limited that secondary market access disappears entirely.

The tension in this watch is deliberate. Dive watches earned their reputation through legibility and durability, through being tools that happen to look good. The Nereide Opale inverts the formula: it is a visual object that happens to function as a tool. The 200-meter rating is real. The tungsten bezel will survive years of daily wear. The SW200-1 will keep time reliably. But none of that is why someone buys this watch.

The buyer profile is narrow. Collectors seeking another black-dial diver will find nothing here. Those who treat watches as mechanical jewelry, as objects that reward attention, will find a dial that changes with every movement, backed by engineering that does not apologize for the spectacle.

Venezianico’s bet is straightforward: a dial material can carry a watch in a market saturated with homages and heritage plays. The Nereide Opale stakes everything on that slab of lab-grown stone. The case, the bracelet, the bezel, the movement: all of it exists to frame the opal and let the color do the work.

The post The Dial That Swallowed the Watch first appeared on Yanko Design.

Sweden Transforms Wind Turbine Waste Into Europe’s First Blade-Built Parking Garage

Sweden has opened the doors to a parking garage unlike any other in Europe. The Niels Bohr car park in Lund stands as a testament to what happens when architectural vision meets environmental necessity. The five-story structure houses 365 parking spaces and represents a groundbreaking approach to renewable energy waste, proving that circular economy principles can produce functional, safe infrastructure that people actually want to use.

Architect Jonas Lloyd stumbled upon the project’s core concept while flipping through a magazine. An article about America’s wind industry caught his attention, particularly the disposal problem plaguing decommissioned turbine blades. These massive structures, engineered from glass and carbon fiber composites to withstand decades of punishment from wind and weather, were ending up buried in landfills across the United States. Lloyd saw waste where others saw a dead end. When developer LKP commissioned his firm, Lloyd’s Arkitektkontor, to design a new parking structure for Lund’s growing Brunnshög district, he pitched an unconventional solution that would give turbine blades a second life as architectural elements.

Designer: Jonas Lloyd

Vattenfall, Sweden’s green energy giant, donated 57 rotor blades from its decommissioned Nørre Økse Sø wind farm. The team carefully cut and mounted these blades onto the building’s exterior, creating striking curtain walls that serve as non-load-bearing façade elements. The result is visually arresting: massive white curves sweeping across the structure’s face, their aerodynamic forms now frozen in place instead of spinning against Nordic skies.

The building integrates sustainability at every level beyond the repurposed blades. Forty electric vehicle charging stations connect to an on-site battery storage system. Solar panels blanket the roof, generating power during daylight hours that charges vehicles after dark. The façade incorporates pollinator-friendly plants alongside the repurposed blades, softening the industrial materials with living greenery. Lloyd’s satisfaction with the finished building centers on its symbolic power, demonstrating that sustainable architecture can transcend environmental buzzwords to create spaces people genuinely appreciate.

The project’s timing matters significantly. Vattenfall operates more than 1,400 wind turbines across Europe, and blade disposal represents a growing challenge for the renewable energy sector. The company has banned sending blades to landfills internally and committed to reusing or recycling 100 percent of blades and major components by 2030, exploring applications ranging from solar panel supports to ski manufacturing. The Niels Bohr garage, which opened in December 2025, attracted international attention as Europe’s first building to incorporate wind turbine blades into its construction. It demonstrates that renewable energy infrastructure can serve communities long after its original purpose ends, transforming from energy generator to architectural element without pause.

The post Sweden Transforms Wind Turbine Waste Into Europe’s First Blade-Built Parking Garage first appeared on Yanko Design.

This LEGO Retro TV Build Shows You How Cathode Ray Tubes Actually Worked

Before flat screens and streaming services, television sets were hulking pieces of furniture that commanded respect and curiosity in equal measure. FMDavid’s LEGO Ideas submission celebrates these beloved artifacts with a build that goes far beyond surface level nostalgia, diving deep into the mechanical heart of what made these cathode ray tube televisions actually work.

The exterior immediately transports viewers back several decades with its mint green housing, classic rabbit ear antenna, and the unmistakable SMPTE color bars displayed on its gently curved screen. Remove the back panel, however, and the true engineering achievement reveals itself. Every major component of a vintage television has been faithfully recreated in brick form, from the deflection coils wrapped around the CRT neck to the colorful wiring snaking between vacuum tubes and capacitors along the chassis floor.

Designer: FMDavid

And that’s what’s so fascinating about this build – the inner guts. Most retro TV builds in LEGO form stop at the cabinet and screen. Slap on some rabbit ears, throw in a color bar pattern, call it a day. FMDavid apparently decided that approach was for amateurs. The real story here happens when you pop off that back panel and discover what amounts to a miniature engineering degree compressed into approximately 200 square studs of space. The cathode ray tube dominates the interior volume exactly as it would in an actual 1960s Zenith or RCA, which tells me this builder actually studied reference material instead of just vibing on childhood memories. Those deflection coils wrapping around the tube neck aren’t decorative. They’re positioned where they’d actually sit in a functioning set, using what appears to be copper-colored flexible elements or possibly custom printed tiles to simulate the electromagnetic coils that would bend electron beams across phosphor screens at 15,734 times per second.

This build works as both display piece and educational tool. The SMPTE color bars on screen are a nice touch that any broadcast engineer would immediately recognize. Those bars weren’t just pretty patterns. They were precision test signals containing specific luminance and chrominance values that let technicians calibrate everything from color temperature to sync pulse timing. The curved screen profile captures that subtle convex bulge of real CRT glass, which existed because a flat surface would implode under atmospheric pressure once you evacuated the tube interior to near-vacuum conditions. Physics demanded that curve, and FMDavid respected it.

The exterior styling nails the mid-century aesthetic with that sage green cabinet color and brown wooden legs angled outward in classic Danish modern furniture tradition. Those aren’t just legs, they’re cultural signifiers of an era when televisions were statement furniture pieces that families planned their living rooms around. The two control knobs on the right panel would’ve been your channel selector and volume control, back when changing channels meant physically walking across the room and turning a mechanical detent switch through twelve discrete positions. No endless scrolling through 500 cable channels, just ABC, NBC, CBS, and maybe PBS if you were lucky.

The component density here feels right for a television set from the tube era without overwhelming the interior space. Real TV sets from the 1960s packed dozens of components into their cabinets, handling everything from IF amplification to horizontal output to audio processing. FMDavid’s arranged the internal elements so you can actually see the relationship between the major systems. The vacuum tubes reminiscent of the old-timey technology, the transformers with their ribbed heat sinks sit where you’d expect them, probably using modified tile or plate stacks to create those distinctive cooling fins that prevented components from cooking themselves to death during long viewing sessions. Those cylinders at the bottom represent capacitors, which in real sets would filter high voltage DC and store energy for the horizontal deflection circuit. Get a capacitor failure in a vintage TV and you’d lose either your picture width or your vertical hold, sending the image rolling endlessly up the screen. Heck, there’s even the RCA output on the back, with the yellow and red for left and right audio channels, and a white for presumably the video.

The build currently sits at 1,136 supporters on LEGO Ideas, which means it needs another 8,864 votes to hit the 10,000 threshold for official review. That’s how the Ideas platform works. You need 10,000 people to vote for your concept within a limited timeframe, then LEGO’s internal review board evaluates it for commercial viability, piece count economics, licensing considerations, and market fit. FMDavid’s got 418 days remaining to gather those supporters. If you want to see this hit production shelves, head over to the LEGO Ideas website, create a free account if you haven’t already, and cast your vote. No money required, just a few clicks to tell LEGO this deserves manufacturing consideration alongside other fan-designed sets.

The post This LEGO Retro TV Build Shows You How Cathode Ray Tubes Actually Worked first appeared on Yanko Design.

GameSir’s $79 MFi-compatible Controller Lets You Play PC & Xbox titles on an iPhone or iPad Mini

Backbone has enjoyed relatively comfortable dominance in the iPhone controller market, but GameSir just made things considerably less comfortable. The GameSir G8 Plus MFi arrives as the company’s first MFi-certified product, bringing proven gaming hardware expertise to Apple’s ecosystem at an aggressive $79.99 price point. This puts GameSir $20 below the established market leader while matching many of its core features. The competitive landscape matters here because Backbone now faces much stronger competition from companies like GameSir, Gamevice, and Razer, making its premium positioning harder to justify. GameSir counters Backbone’s sleek design and app integration with Hall Effect technology, customizable faceplates, and dual back buttons. The G8 Plus MFi also supports both iOS and compact Android devices, offering flexibility that pure iPhone-focused controllers cannot match.

GameSir finally secured MFi certification, which means reliable performance and stable connectivity across iOS devices without the usual third-party controller jank. The company built its reputation on solid hardware, particularly with controllers like the standard G8 Plus that launched earlier this year with Bluetooth and battery support. This MFi version strips out both the battery and wireless connectivity to meet Apple’s specifications and hit that $79.99 price point. You’re getting a wired-only experience through a movable USB-C port, but the tradeoff includes pass-through charging so your phone doesn’t die mid-session. The telescopic design stretches to accommodate devices up to 215mm, which covers everything from standard iPhones to the iPad Mini, giving you way more versatility than you’d expect from a phone controller.

Designer: GameSir

Click Here to Buy Now

Hall Effect sensors in both the thumbsticks and analog triggers eliminate stick drift, which remains a persistent problem even in premium controllers. The mechanical D-pad provides tactile feedback that membrane alternatives can’t match, though the ABXY buttons use membrane technology to keep costs reasonable. Two programmable back buttons sit on laser-engraved grips, and the entire controller works with the GameSir app for customization. The detachable magnetic faceplate lets you swap thumbstick positions and rearrange the ABXY layout, something Backbone doesn’t offer at any price point. There’s also a 3.5mm audio jack for wired headphones, which matters more than you’d think when Bluetooth audio introduces latency in competitive games. GameSir clearly spent their engineering budget on components that affect gameplay rather than feature bloat.

No gyroscope means games that rely on motion controls won’t work properly, which eliminates a chunk of the iOS gaming library. The wired-only design lacks the flexibility of Backbone’s newer Pro model with its 40-hour battery and Bluetooth connectivity. GameSir’s app exists but doesn’t approach the polish or social features of Backbone’s ecosystem, which has become a genuine differentiator for the brand. Backbone built a game launcher, social platform, and recording hub that transforms the controller from a peripheral into a gaming experience. GameSir offers button remapping and firmware updates, which covers the basics but won’t replace your need for separate apps. You can tell where each company decided to compete and where they chose to concede ground.

The calculation for buyers comes down to whether Backbone’s ecosystem and brand cachet justify a 25% premium over GameSir’s hardware-focused approach. If you care about launching games from a unified interface, sharing clips with friends, or using your controller as a social hub, Backbone remains the obvious choice despite the higher cost. But if you want Hall Effect reliability, physical customization options, and the ability to use the same controller with both your iPhone and a compact Android tablet without switching devices, GameSir built exactly that product. The G8 Plus MFi proves you can compete with an established market leader by focusing on what actually matters to a specific segment of buyers. Backbone set the standard for mobile controllers on iOS, and now someone finally showed up with enough credibility to make the comparison worthwhile rather than embarrassing.

Click Here to Buy Now

The post GameSir’s $79 MFi-compatible Controller Lets You Play PC & Xbox titles on an iPhone or iPad Mini first appeared on Yanko Design.