8BitDo Partners with Pro Esports Players Vxbao and Zhen for $95 Transparent Purple Arcade Controller

The whole transparent tech thing is funny, isn’t it? It felt like a gimmick that died with the 90s, a design language reserved for our collective memory of Atomic Purple N64 controllers and translucent Game Boy Colors. Yet here we are, watching it cycle back into the enthusiast space with a vengeance. It’s a clever move, really. A transparent shell is a statement of confidence, a way for a company to say there is nothing to hide, that the engineering inside is as much a part of the aesthetic as the plastic containing it. It taps directly into a powerful vein of nostalgia while also appealing to a modern desire for authenticity, for seeing the components that make our gadgets tick. It is a look that feels both retro and surprisingly honest, and it is finding a perfect home in the high-performance peripheral market.

So when 8BitDo announced a new signature edition of its Arcade Controller, the transparent purple shell was the first thing that caught my eye. This is not just some random colorway; it is a direct collaboration with professional fighting game players Vxbao and Zhen, complete with their signatures. It’s called the Arcade Controller Transparent Purple Signature Edition, and it represents a very deliberate push by 8BitDo to add a layer of competitive legitimacy to its hardware. The company has always excelled at making well-built, retro-inspired controllers, but this partnership signals a deeper ambition. They are actively courting the serious fighting game community, tying a specific, desirable aesthetic to the endorsement of players who represent the scene’s highest level of competition.

Designers: Vxbao and Zhen for 8bitdo

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Underneath that eye-catching shell, the controller is built on the proven foundation of the standard 8BitDo Arcade Controller, which is a good place to start. The most significant hardware change here is the switch to Kailh Purple Glede linear switches for the all-button layout. This is a meaningful upgrade, not just a cosmetic tweak. Linear switches offer a smooth, consistent press from top to bottom without any tactile bump, which is exactly what you want for the rapid, precise inputs required in competitive fighting games. It ensures fast actuation and removes any physical noise that could interfere with muscle memory. The controller also retains its esports-focused features, including essential SOCD cleaning for handling simultaneous opposite directional inputs and a tournament lock function to prevent accidental pauses.

The design itself is more than just a translucent shell. 8BitDo paired the transparent purple body with matching translucent buttons, but smartly grounded the whole thing with a black tempered glass faceplate. This contrast keeps it from looking like a toy and gives it a more premium, serious feel. The signatures of Vxbao and Zhen are integrated into the design, serving as a stamp of approval that makes this a collectible piece right out of the box. Thankfully, it also keeps the excellent quality-of-life features from the original model, like the non-slip silicone mat that keeps it planted during intense matches and the slick magnetic compartment that hides the 2.4 GHz adapter when not in use. It’s a thoughtful package that respects both form and function.

This collaboration is a clear statement of intent. By officially sponsoring Vxbao and Zhen and launching a product bearing their names, 8BitDo is signaling that it wants to be taken seriously in the competitive fighting game arena. For years, the company has been the darling of the retro and indie gaming scenes, but breaking into the FGC requires a different kind of credibility. This partnership is a shortcut to that trust. It tells prospective buyers that this hardware has been vetted and is suitable for high-level play, moving the controller from a cool retro accessory to a viable piece of tournament gear. It’s a classic strategy, but one that only works if the underlying product is solid, and by all accounts, the 8BitDo Arcade Controller platform is exactly that.

Of course, there is always a catch. The good news is the price; at $94.99, it carries only a five-dollar premium over the standard model’s original MSRP, which is incredibly reasonable for a signature edition with upgraded switches. The bad news is availability. For now, this is a US-exclusive release available for order on Amazon, with an estimated shipping date of late January 2026. However, if you’re really determined, maybe you could just 3D print your own translucent shell and mount it to an existing 8BitDo Arcade Controller?

Click Here to Buy Now

The post 8BitDo Partners with Pro Esports Players Vxbao and Zhen for $95 Transparent Purple Arcade Controller first appeared on Yanko Design.

TCL’s $199 Projector Puts a 120-Inch Screen in Any Room (And Costs Less Than AirPods Pro)

Home cinema has never been this affordable. The TCL Projector C1 brings 120-inch screen entertainment to your living room for just $199, making it cheaper than the AirPods Pro, which sounds wild considering one’s a tiny pair of earbuds and the other’s an entire cinema in your house. This isn’t a stripped-down compromise either. The projector packs Google TV, automatic focus, and a built-in battery into a portable package.

What makes this pricing remarkable is the complete feature set TCL has managed to include. Most projectors at this price point require external speakers, lack smart TV capabilities, or need constant manual adjustments. The C1 combines all these essentials in one device. You can set it up anywhere in your home, cast content from your phone, and enjoy Dolby Audio without buying additional equipment. For the cost of a mid-range streaming device, you’re getting an entire home theater system.

Designer: TCL

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TCL just launched their C1 projector in the UK for £249.99, though Americans get a fairly sizeable price slash of $199. I keep staring at that number trying to figure out where the catch is. You can project a 120-inch image for less than a pair of premium wireless earbuds. A full-size screen that dwarfs even the most absurdly large televisions, available for impulse-purchase money. And there isn’t some limited Black Friday offer anywhere – this is the MSRP on the box.

Obviously they cut corners somewhere. The projector outputs 230 ISO lumens, which isn’t the brightest out there by a fair mile. Yes, you can still watch movies and shows just fine, the only real caveat is that you’ll need absolute darkness – simply drawing one curtain in the afternoon won’t cut it, and watching a game with the lights on may prove to be less than satisfactory – but hey, two hundred bucks. Spend a few more on blackout curtains and you’re good. The LCD panel delivers 1080p natively with 4K support, and you need about 2.5 meters of throw distance to hit that 120-inch maximum.

Google TV comes baked in, which matters more than it should. Most cheap projectors force you to plug in a Chromecast or Fire Stick, adding another $50 and another remote to lose between your couch cushions. Netflix certification means proper app support instead of janky workarounds or browser-based streaming that buffers at the worst possible moments. Auto-focus and keystone correction handle the setup pain points that make most people abandon projectors after one frustrating evening. I’ve spent twenty minutes adjusting focus wheels on projectors that cost ten times this much, so having it happen automatically feels like cheating.

TCL included a 60 Wh battery, which gets you through a two-hour movie without trailing extension cords across your living room. Weighing 1.8 kilograms means you can actually carry this thing around from your living room to your bedroom. The integrated adjustable stand folds into the body instead of requiring a separate tripod purchase, and you can even rotate the C1 to face your ceiling for in-bed entertainment. HDMI and USB-A ports cover the basics, Wi-Fi 5 handles streaming without constant buffering, and Bluetooth 5.1 lets you pair actual speakers because that 8-watt built-in option with Dolby Audio support exists purely for emergencies. Nobody’s watching Dune on an 8-watt speaker and pretending they’re satisfied.

Projectors have always occupied this frustrating middle ground where cheap ones are genuinely terrible and good ones cost mortgage payment money. You either bought a $79 pico-projector that barely functioned or dropped $2,000 on something that required a dedicated room and professional calibration. TCL figured out that most people just want to watch movies on a big screen without taking out a loan or earning an engineering degree. The brightness limitations mean this won’t replace your main TV for daytime viewing, but it turns movie nights into actual events instead of just sitting on your couch scrolling through Netflix for forty minutes. Gaming on a 100-inch screen changes how you experience everything from racing games to sprawling RPGs. Your living room becomes the place where people actually want to gather instead of everyone staring at their phones in different corners.

Two hundred dollars removes most of the decision-making anxiety. You can buy this on a whim and if it doesn’t work out, you’re not crying into your pillow about wasted money. Although, considering TCL’s track record, this one might actually work out to be as good as, if not more reliable than, a 50″ smart TV that may cost 4-5x more.

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The post TCL’s $199 Projector Puts a 120-Inch Screen in Any Room (And Costs Less Than AirPods Pro) first appeared on Yanko Design.

Remember Apple’s AirPower Mat? Dreame Built A MagSafe Power Bank That Does The Same Thing

Dreame built its name on robot vacuums and smart cleaning stations, but its newest release does not clean your floors at all. Dreame’s Air Power 17 arrives as a magnetic portable power bank with a surprisingly polished feel, pairing an aluminum frame with AG glass and a footprint barely larger than a bank card. It clicks into place on an iPhone 17 or any Qi2 compatible phone, then quietly delivers up to 15 watts wirelessly or 20 watts over USB-C. But that’s not what’s so surprising about the power bank (apart from the fact that the parent company also manufactures robot vacuums)… it’s that the AirPower 17 also charges your TWS earbuds AS WELL AS your Apple Watch, right through the same wireless charging surface.

The name is a clever dig at Apple’s own AirPower disaster from 2017, when the company announced a charging mat that could handle 3 devices at once. Now, it seems like Dreame’s taken the mantle of making that happen, that too in a compact form factor that still feels decidedly premium, thanks to the slim design, the aluminum alloy frame, and AG glass back. Now, the obvious question is why a vacuum company thinks it can waltz into a market already flooded with Anker, Baseus, and a hundred Shenzhen generics. Here’s the thing: Dreame has been on an absolute tear since July, dropping or teasing products in personal care, large appliances, consumer electronics, and even automotive adjacent gear. This power bank feels like part of a coordinated land grab, and the clever multipurpose design genuinely feels like a consumer-focused product aimed at winning hearts, not just adding small numbers to a company’s profits.

Designer: Dreame

The Air Power 17’s design is fairly simple and straightforward, packing one USB C port, Qi2 wireless at 15 watts max, and that integrated kickstand. The 5,000 milliamp hour version comes in at just 8 millimeters thick and 125 grams, which is borderline remarkable when you consider it includes a stand mechanism and a full magnetic ring. The 10,000 milliamp hour Pro is predictably chunkier at 12.8 millimeters and 189 grams, but still compact enough that you could daily carry it without hating your life. Both share the exact same 103 by 58.4 millimeter footprint, so your choice really comes down to whether you value slimness or capacity more.

The winning feature, however, is the power bank’s ability to charge both smartphones as well as an Apple Watch from the same charging surface. Snap the Air Power 17 to the back of your phone, or just place it on a surface and rest your Apple Watch on the watch symbol and you’re good to go. Right below the Watch symbol is also a TWS earbud case symbol, which means you can even charge your AirPods or other earbuds on the power bank. I’ve yet to see a single power bank this slim so elegantly cover all bases. The fact that a robot vacuum company pushed this first seems odd but hey, the consumer in me is happy he doesn’t need dongles, cables, and other paraphernalia to keep his devices charged.

The built in stand is the sneaky detail that turns the power bank into a proper desk accessory, the kind of thing you slap your phone onto during a video call or while following a recipe. Most magnetic power banks treat the stand as an afterthought, a flimsy plastic hinge that wobbles under the weight of a phone. Dreame integrated it into the rear housing with their branding stamped right on it, so it doubles as brand presence and functional hardware. Wireless efficiency is rated above 60 percent, which tracks with Qi2 standards but also means you lose about 40 percent of capacity to heat and conversion losses when charging wirelessly. If you want the full 10,000 milliamp hours, you need to cable up.

The catch is availability. Right now this lives exclusively in China, sold on platforms like JD.com with zero confirmed timeline for a global rollout. Dreame already sells robot vacuums in the US and Europe, so the infrastructure exists, but consumer electronics accessories face different certification hoops than home appliances. At 219 yuan for the 5,000 milliamp hour model and 259 yuan for the 10,000 milliamp hour Pro, Dreame is pricing aggressively enough to make established brands nervous while keeping enough margin to signal this is a real product line. Here’s to hoping for a global rollout soon – maybe this is the AirPower Mat we truly deserve!

The post Remember Apple’s AirPower Mat? Dreame Built A MagSafe Power Bank That Does The Same Thing first appeared on Yanko Design.

Remember “The Ghiblification”? We Treated Ghibli As Disposable Because That’s How We Treat Everything

First, it was cottagecore, filling our feeds with sourdough starters and rustic linen. Then came the sharp, symmetrical pastels of the Wes Anderson trend, followed by a tidal wave of Barbie pink that painted the internet for a summer. Each aesthetic arrived like a weather front, dominating the landscape completely for a short time before vanishing just as quickly, leaving behind only a faint digital echo. They were cultural costumes, tried on for a season and then relegated to the back of the closet.

Into this cycle stepped Studio Ghibli, its decades of patient, handcrafted animation compressed into a one-click selfie generator. The resulting “Ghibli-fication” of our profiles was not a deep engagement with Hayao Miyazaki’s themes of environmentalism and pacifism; it was simply the next costume off the rack. The speed with which we adopted and then abandoned it reveals a difficult truth. Our treatment of Ghibli was a symptom of a much larger cultural pattern, one where even the most profound art is rendered disposable by the internet’s insatiable appetite for the new.

When everything becomes an aesthetic, nothing remains itself

Platforms thrive on legibility. Content needs to be instantly recognizable, easily categorized, and simple enough to reproduce at scale. This creates enormous pressure to reduce complex cultural artifacts into their most surface-level visual markers. A Wes Anderson film becomes “symmetrical shots in pastel.” A hit song from Raye (that marked her leaving a music label and following creative freedom) becomes just a fleeting 20-second TikTok dance about rings on fingers and finding husbands. Ghibli’s intricate storytelling about war, labor, and the natural world gets flattened into “soft colors and big eyes.”

The reduction is not accidental. It is the cost of entry into viral circulation. An aesthetic can only spread if it can be copied quickly, applied broadly, and understood immediately. Nuance, context, and depth are friction. They slow down the sharing, complicate the reproduction, and limit the audience. So they get stripped away, not out of malice, but out of structural necessity. What remains is a shell, a visual shorthand that gestures toward the original without containing any of its substance.

This process turns cultural works into raw material. A film, a book, a philosophical tradition, any of these can be mined for their most photogenic elements and reconfigured into something that fits neatly into a grid post or a TikTok filter. The original becomes less important than the aesthetic it can generate. Once the aesthetic stops performing well in terms of engagement metrics, the entire package gets discarded. The algorithm does not care about preservation or reverence. It cares about what is getting clicks and views today.

The appetite that cannot be satisfied

Social media platforms are built around a fundamental economic problem: they need to hold attention, but attention is finite and easily exhausted. The solution is constant novelty. If users get bored, they leave. If they leave, ad revenue drops. So the feed must always be serving something new, something that feels fresh enough to justify another scroll, another click, another few seconds of eyeball time.

This creates a culture of planned obsolescence for aesthetics. A look can only stay interesting for so long before it becomes familiar, then oversaturated, then tiresome. At that point, it has to be replaced. The cycle repeats endlessly, chewing through visual languages, artistic movements, and cultural traditions at a pace that would have been unthinkable even twenty years ago. What took decades to develop can be extracted, popularized, and discarded in a matter of weeks.

The speed of this churn has consequences. It trains us to engage with culture in a particular way: superficially, briefly, and without much attachment. We learn to skim surfaces rather than dig into depths. We participate in trends not because they resonate with us personally, but because participation itself is the point (the ice bucket challenge boosted ALS awareness for precisely 6 months). Being part of the moment, being visible within the current aesthetic wave, these become more valuable than any lasting connection to the work that aesthetic is borrowed from.

What sticks when the wave recedes

The irony is that while trends are disposable, the works they feed on often are not. Ghibli films continue to be watched, analyzed, and loved by new audiences long after the selfie filters have been forgotten. Wes Anderson’s movies did not become less meaningful because people used his color palettes for Instagram posts. The underlying art survives because it contains something that cannot be reduced to a visual shorthand.

What separates durable culture from disposable trends is substance that exceeds its surface. A Ghibli film rewards attention over time. The more you watch, the more you notice: the way labor is animated with dignity, the long quiet stretches that mirror real life’s pace, the refusal to offer simple moral answers. None of that fits in a filter. None of that can be mass-produced. It requires the viewer to bring time, focus, and openness to complexity.

This is what the trend cycle cannot replicate. It can borrow the look, but it cannot borrow the experience. It can create a momentary association with the aesthetic, but it cannot create the slow, layered engagement that builds lasting attachment. So the original work persists beneath the churn, waiting for the people who want more than a costume, who are looking for something to return to rather than something to discard.

Resisting the rhythm of disposability

Recognizing this pattern is not the same as escaping it. We are all embedded in systems that reward rapid consumption and constant novelty. The feed is designed to keep us moving, to prevent us from lingering too long on any one thing. Resisting that rhythm requires deliberate effort, a conscious choice to slow down when everything around us is accelerating.

That resistance can look small and personal: rewatching a film instead of merely watching a snippet of it on YouTube Shorts, reading longform essays instead of liking someone’s reel about it, spending time with art that does not immediately reveal itself. If anything, the pandemic allowed us to spend days culturing sourdough starter so we could bake our bread. The curfew ended and sourdough became a distant memory… but for those 6 months, we actually indulged in immersion. These acts do not change the structure of the platforms, but they change our relationship to culture. They create space for depth in an environment optimized for surface.

The broader question is whether we can build cultural spaces that do not treat everything as disposable. Platforms will not do this on their own; their incentives run in the opposite direction. But audiences, creators, and critics can push back by valuing longevity over virality, by rewarding substance over aesthetic repackaging, by choosing to engage with work in ways that cannot be reduced to a trend cycle.

Ghibli survived its moment as a disposable aesthetic because it was never fully captured by it. The films remain too slow, too strange, too resistant to easy consumption. They stand as a reminder that some things are built to last, even in an environment designed to make everything temporary. The real work is recognizing that difference and choosing to treat what matters accordingly.

The post Remember “The Ghiblification”? We Treated Ghibli As Disposable Because That’s How We Treat Everything first appeared on Yanko Design.

Remember “The Ghiblification”? We Treated Ghibli As Disposable Because That’s How We Treat Everything

First, it was cottagecore, filling our feeds with sourdough starters and rustic linen. Then came the sharp, symmetrical pastels of the Wes Anderson trend, followed by a tidal wave of Barbie pink that painted the internet for a summer. Each aesthetic arrived like a weather front, dominating the landscape completely for a short time before vanishing just as quickly, leaving behind only a faint digital echo. They were cultural costumes, tried on for a season and then relegated to the back of the closet.

Into this cycle stepped Studio Ghibli, its decades of patient, handcrafted animation compressed into a one-click selfie generator. The resulting “Ghibli-fication” of our profiles was not a deep engagement with Hayao Miyazaki’s themes of environmentalism and pacifism; it was simply the next costume off the rack. The speed with which we adopted and then abandoned it reveals a difficult truth. Our treatment of Ghibli was a symptom of a much larger cultural pattern, one where even the most profound art is rendered disposable by the internet’s insatiable appetite for the new.

When everything becomes an aesthetic, nothing remains itself

Platforms thrive on legibility. Content needs to be instantly recognizable, easily categorized, and simple enough to reproduce at scale. This creates enormous pressure to reduce complex cultural artifacts into their most surface-level visual markers. A Wes Anderson film becomes “symmetrical shots in pastel.” A hit song from Raye (that marked her leaving a music label and following creative freedom) becomes just a fleeting 20-second TikTok dance about rings on fingers and finding husbands. Ghibli’s intricate storytelling about war, labor, and the natural world gets flattened into “soft colors and big eyes.”

The reduction is not accidental. It is the cost of entry into viral circulation. An aesthetic can only spread if it can be copied quickly, applied broadly, and understood immediately. Nuance, context, and depth are friction. They slow down the sharing, complicate the reproduction, and limit the audience. So they get stripped away, not out of malice, but out of structural necessity. What remains is a shell, a visual shorthand that gestures toward the original without containing any of its substance.

This process turns cultural works into raw material. A film, a book, a philosophical tradition, any of these can be mined for their most photogenic elements and reconfigured into something that fits neatly into a grid post or a TikTok filter. The original becomes less important than the aesthetic it can generate. Once the aesthetic stops performing well in terms of engagement metrics, the entire package gets discarded. The algorithm does not care about preservation or reverence. It cares about what is getting clicks and views today.

The appetite that cannot be satisfied

Social media platforms are built around a fundamental economic problem: they need to hold attention, but attention is finite and easily exhausted. The solution is constant novelty. If users get bored, they leave. If they leave, ad revenue drops. So the feed must always be serving something new, something that feels fresh enough to justify another scroll, another click, another few seconds of eyeball time.

This creates a culture of planned obsolescence for aesthetics. A look can only stay interesting for so long before it becomes familiar, then oversaturated, then tiresome. At that point, it has to be replaced. The cycle repeats endlessly, chewing through visual languages, artistic movements, and cultural traditions at a pace that would have been unthinkable even twenty years ago. What took decades to develop can be extracted, popularized, and discarded in a matter of weeks.

The speed of this churn has consequences. It trains us to engage with culture in a particular way: superficially, briefly, and without much attachment. We learn to skim surfaces rather than dig into depths. We participate in trends not because they resonate with us personally, but because participation itself is the point (the ice bucket challenge boosted ALS awareness for precisely 6 months). Being part of the moment, being visible within the current aesthetic wave, these become more valuable than any lasting connection to the work that aesthetic is borrowed from.

What sticks when the wave recedes

The irony is that while trends are disposable, the works they feed on often are not. Ghibli films continue to be watched, analyzed, and loved by new audiences long after the selfie filters have been forgotten. Wes Anderson’s movies did not become less meaningful because people used his color palettes for Instagram posts. The underlying art survives because it contains something that cannot be reduced to a visual shorthand.

What separates durable culture from disposable trends is substance that exceeds its surface. A Ghibli film rewards attention over time. The more you watch, the more you notice: the way labor is animated with dignity, the long quiet stretches that mirror real life’s pace, the refusal to offer simple moral answers. None of that fits in a filter. None of that can be mass-produced. It requires the viewer to bring time, focus, and openness to complexity.

This is what the trend cycle cannot replicate. It can borrow the look, but it cannot borrow the experience. It can create a momentary association with the aesthetic, but it cannot create the slow, layered engagement that builds lasting attachment. So the original work persists beneath the churn, waiting for the people who want more than a costume, who are looking for something to return to rather than something to discard.

Resisting the rhythm of disposability

Recognizing this pattern is not the same as escaping it. We are all embedded in systems that reward rapid consumption and constant novelty. The feed is designed to keep us moving, to prevent us from lingering too long on any one thing. Resisting that rhythm requires deliberate effort, a conscious choice to slow down when everything around us is accelerating.

That resistance can look small and personal: rewatching a film instead of merely watching a snippet of it on YouTube Shorts, reading longform essays instead of liking someone’s reel about it, spending time with art that does not immediately reveal itself. If anything, the pandemic allowed us to spend days culturing sourdough starter so we could bake our bread. The curfew ended and sourdough became a distant memory… but for those 6 months, we actually indulged in immersion. These acts do not change the structure of the platforms, but they change our relationship to culture. They create space for depth in an environment optimized for surface.

The broader question is whether we can build cultural spaces that do not treat everything as disposable. Platforms will not do this on their own; their incentives run in the opposite direction. But audiences, creators, and critics can push back by valuing longevity over virality, by rewarding substance over aesthetic repackaging, by choosing to engage with work in ways that cannot be reduced to a trend cycle.

Ghibli survived its moment as a disposable aesthetic because it was never fully captured by it. The films remain too slow, too strange, too resistant to easy consumption. They stand as a reminder that some things are built to last, even in an environment designed to make everything temporary. The real work is recognizing that difference and choosing to treat what matters accordingly.

The post Remember “The Ghiblification”? We Treated Ghibli As Disposable Because That’s How We Treat Everything first appeared on Yanko Design.

The Hermes Yacht Concept Has Bronze Panels and a Glass Canopy, and It’s Stunning

The contrast could hardly be more striking. Traditional gondolas drift past weathered Venetian buildings while the Hermes Yacht commands attention with its angular, contemporary form. Paolo Demel designed this concept vessel to embody what he calls “futuristic elegance,” a concept that bridges luxury marine craft with the precision and artistry of high fashion design.

Measuring 49 feet in length, Hermes combines lightweight fiberglass and aluminum with sustainable materials, proving that environmental consciousness and aesthetic ambition can strengthen rather than limit design possibilities. The yacht’s retractable systems transform it from docked mode to cruising configuration, while enhanced hydrodynamics improve both speed and fuel efficiency. From its inception in Milan through final development in Venice, this project spent eighteen months evolving into an award-winning example of how modern yacht design can honor craftsmanship while embracing innovation and responsible material choices.

Designer: Paolo Demel

Paolo Demel spent 18 months developing the Hermes Yacht concept between Milan and Venice, and the work shows in how thoroughly considered everything appears. The proposed 49-foot hull would use fiberglass and aluminum to keep weight down while maintaining structural integrity, which directly improves fuel efficiency through basic physics. Less mass means less energy required to push through water at speed. The glass canopy wrapping around the cabin does double duty, flooding the interior with natural light while creating that visual continuity between inside and outside spaces. Those bronze-toned panels along the flanks have a textured, almost perforated appearance that adds depth without looking overwrought. Demel pulled inspiration from fashion rather than other yacht designers, studying how haute couture handles material combinations and surface finishes.

The dimensions spec out at 49 feet long, 14.5 feet wide, and 9.5 feet tall, landing in that middle range where you have actual interior volume but can still maneuver through tighter waterways. Visualizing this concept in Venice’s canals probably shaped some of these decisions, since those narrow passages force you to think about turning radius and sight lines differently than open water would. The knife-edge bow cuts drag, which would show up in improved top speeds and better fuel economy with the same powerplant. You see this kind of aerodynamic thinking in automotive design constantly, and it translates well to marine applications where you’re fighting fluid resistance constantly.

Demel designed retractable systems for the keel and sails, letting the yacht physically reconfigure between docked and cruising modes. Most vessels compromise with a fixed setup that works okay in both scenarios but excels in neither. Shallow draft when docked makes berthing easier. Deeper keel and larger sail surfaces when cruising improve stability and performance. The mechanical complexity of moving parts would introduce maintenance considerations, but the operational flexibility seems worth that tradeoff if anyone actually produces this design. CNC machining would handle precision components where tolerances matter, then hand finishing would take over for surfaces requiring human judgment. That hybrid manufacturing approach has become standard in high-end fabrication because automated and manual processes each handle what they do best.

Rendering a yacht in Venice carries obvious symbolic weight, placing futuristic design against Renaissance architecture. Demel understood that contrast when choosing where to visualize Hermes. The juxtaposition works because the yacht holds its own visually without trying to blend in or apologize for looking different. Those bronze panels catch light differently depending on angle and time of day, creating visual interest that static renders can only hint at. Whether anyone builds this remains to be seen, but as a design exercise it demonstrates how cross-pollinating ideas from fashion into marine design produces results that feel fresh in a category that tends toward conservative iterations on established themes.

The post The Hermes Yacht Concept Has Bronze Panels and a Glass Canopy, and It’s Stunning first appeared on Yanko Design.

DIY $15 Raspberry Pi Device Blocks Every Ad on Your Phone, TV, and Laptop Automatically

Cory Doctorow coined the term “enshittification” to describe how internet platforms inevitably decay, prioritizing advertisers and shareholders over users who made them successful in the first place. What begins as a useful service gradually transforms into an advertising delivery system wrapped around minimal functionality. Websites that once loaded instantly now take seconds to render as they auction off your attention to the highest bidder. Social media feeds become algorithmic nightmares designed to maximize engagement with sponsored content rather than connections with actual people. This isn’t accidental degradation but a deliberate business model that treats users as products to be packaged and sold.

Fighting back against enshittification requires taking control of your own infrastructure rather than hoping platforms will respect your time and privacy. The Raspberry Pi Zero 2W running Pi-hole software represents a practical form of digital self-defense that costs less than $30 and works continuously in the background. This tiny computer sits on your home network and blocks advertising domains before they reach your devices, creating a cleaner internet experience across phones, tablets, computers, and smart TVs simultaneously. Adding Tailscale extends this protection beyond your home, ensuring that your browsing remains uncluttered whether you’re traveling or working remotely. The setup takes an evening and requires no programming expertise, just a willingness to reclaim your digital experience from platforms that have forgotten who they’re supposed to serve.

Designer: Enrique Neyra

You’d expect an ad-blocker to be substantial on either the hardware or the software front, but this build proves just how small, easy, and cheap everything is. The Raspberry Pi Zero 2W running this entire thing measures 65mm by 30mm, smaller than most people’s wallets, drawing about 2 watts when it’s actually working. You could run this thing 24/7 for a year and spend less on electricity than a single trip to Starbucks. The whole shopping list is stupidly cheap too: the Pi itself runs $15, throw in an 8 dollar micro SD card and whatever USB cable you’ve got rattling around in a drawer. Thirty bucks max, and suddenly you’ve got hardware that can filter ads for every single device in your house.

The Pi runs headless, meaning no monitor, no keyboard, just sitting there quietly doing DNS work in the background. You flash Raspberry Pi OS Light onto the SD card using their imaging tool, which strips out all the desktop environment bloat since you’ll never actually see a screen. During setup you punch in your WiFi credentials, enable SSH so you can talk to it remotely, and give it a hostname. Three minutes later the OS is ready and you’re plugging the card into the Pi. Boot it up, SSH in from your laptop, and you’re looking at a command prompt on a computer the size of a pack of gum.

Pi-hole (an open-source software that blocks ads across the entire network) installs with one command. Literally paste it into the terminal and the script handles everything, walking you through prompts about which DNS provider you want upstream and whether you want query logging enabled. You absolutely want the web admin interface because that’s where you’ll watch the magic happen in real time. The trickier bit is the static IP assignment, which sounds intimidating but really just means logging into your router and clicking a button that says “reserve this IP for this device.” Most modern routers make this dead simple. ISPs like Spectrum have apps where you just scroll through connected devices, find your Pi, and hit reserve. Done.

Once the Pi has its permanent address, you point your router’s DNS settings at it instead of whatever your ISP provides by default. Every device on your network now funnels DNS requests through Pi-hole before connecting to anything. Pi-hole maintains these massive blocklists of known advertising and tracking domains, thousands of entries that get updated regularly. Your phone tries to load an ad from doubleclick.net? Blocked. Facebook wants to ping its analytics server? Blocked. The actual content you’re trying to see loads normally while all the parasitic garbage just vanishes. The Pi-hole dashboard shows you this happening in real time, queries flying in and getting either allowed or blocked based on the lists.

The really clever part is Tailscale, which turns your home setup into something you can use anywhere. Tailscale creates this encrypted mesh network between all your devices using WireGuard under the hood, and it’s shockingly easy to configure. Install it on the Pi with another single command, authenticate through their web console by clicking a link, and boom, your Pi appears in the Tailscale admin panel. Then you tell Tailscale to use your Pi’s IP as the DNS server for everything connected to your account. Now your laptop routes through your home Pi-hole whether you’re at a coffee shop in Brooklyn or an airport in Singapore. The VPN overhead adds maybe 10 milliseconds, completely imperceptible during actual browsing.

What you get is immediate and obvious. News sites that normally assault you with autoplaying video ads and popup overlays suddenly render clean. Mobile apps stop shoving interstitials between every interaction. Your smart TV’s interface becomes less cluttered with sponsored content tiles. Pi-hole typically blocks 20 to 30 percent of all DNS queries, which translates directly into faster page loads because your devices skip downloading megabytes of ad scripts and tracking pixels. Battery life improves on phones and laptops since they’re not constantly rendering and refreshing ad content in the background. The internet feels faster because it actually is faster when you’re not waiting for seventeen different ad networks to respond.

Now, the limitations. DNS blocking works great until it doesn’t, and the main place it fails is when ads come from the same domain as the content you want. YouTube is the classic example because Google serves ads from youtube.com subdomains that the platform needs for actual video playback. Block those domains and you break the whole site. Some news organizations have gotten smarter about this too, serving ads from their own CDNs to sidestep DNS filters. You’re looking at maybe 95 percent effectiveness across the broader web, which is substantial but leaves gaps. For the stubborn stuff you still need browser extensions (or use the Brave browser that even blocks YouTube ads) or just simply accept some ads will slip through. If you’ve reached this far, the latter clearly sounds like it isn’t an option.

The other consideration is dependency. If your home internet goes down and you’re traveling somewhere relying on Tailscale to route back through your Pi-hole, you lose DNS resolution entirely. You can mitigate this by configuring a secondary DNS server like Google’s 8.8.8.8 as a fallback, though that partially defeats the privacy angle. Some people solve this by running Pi-hole in the cloud on something like Google Cloud’s free tier, which gives you better uptime but requires more sophisticated networking to avoid creating an open DNS resolver that attackers can hijack for DDoS amplification. That’s a whole different level of complexity that I’m frankly not equipped to even explain.

The upside, even with this regular build, is massive. For thirty bucks and an evening of tinkering, you get network-wide ad blocking that follows you everywhere and works on every device you own without individual configuration. That’s precisely the practical digital self-defense Doctorow addresses about when he describes taking back control from platforms designed to extract value rather than provide it. The web becomes usable again, and I know that shouldn’t sound like a massive deal… but honestly, after seeing ads in Google, Gmail, Instagram, YouTube, Uber, heck, even ChatGPT, it kinda does feel game-changing.

The post DIY $15 Raspberry Pi Device Blocks Every Ad on Your Phone, TV, and Laptop Automatically first appeared on Yanko Design.

This E‑Ink Phone Case With An AI Recorder Practically Kills Your Notes And Voice Memos Apps

My ideal phone case has always been two different products at once. Part of me wants a permanent E Ink panel for boarding passes, social QR codes, and a to do list that never disappears behind a lock screen. Another part wants an AI notetaker like the Plaud, with its own mic, its own record button, and reliable transcription. Until now, those wants have fought for the same patch of real estate on the back of my phone. Reetle’s SmartInk I feels like someone finally noticed that clash. Instead of asking me to choose, it fuses the two roles into a single shell. The E-Ink side handles the quiet, persistent information, while the hardware in the case listens, records, and hands everything off to the phone for syncing and AI summaries. In practice, that turns the case from decoration into the main interface for how I capture and review my day.

This approach is what makes the SmartInk I compelling. It treats the phone case as active, functional hardware rather than a passive bumper. The core insight is that the back of a phone is wasted space, a blank canvas that could be doing useful work. By integrating an E-Ink screen, Reetle creates a low-power dashboard for glanceable information. The marketing materials show exactly what you would expect: calendars, QR codes, and checklists living on a paper-like display that is always visible in sunlight. This is a familiar concept, but the execution here feels more deliberate. The screen is not just a secondary display; it is the intended output for the case’s other primary function, which is where things get really clever.

Designer: REETLE

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Input comes from a dedicated, one-press record button built right into the case’s frame. This is a critical piece of the design, as it removes all the friction of modern recording. There is no need to unlock your phone, hunt for an app, and tap a tiny on-screen icon. You just press the side of the case. That single, simple action captures audio and sends it to the companion app over Bluetooth or Wi-Fi for processing. This is the kind of tactile, immediate functionality that is often lost in software-driven devices. It turns the act of recording from a deliberate, multi-step process into a pure reflex, which is exactly what you want when an important idea strikes.

Once the audio is in the app, the system’s AI gets to work. It transcribes the speech, identifies key points, and can even generate structured to-do lists from a rambling conversation. This is where the workflow comes full circle. Those summaries and tasks can be pushed right back to the E-Ink screen, closing the loop between capture and review. A meeting’s action items can appear on the back of your phone moments after the meeting ends. This creates a powerful, self-contained ecosystem where the case captures the input and the case also displays the output, turning your entire phone into a much smarter notepad.

That E-Ink display is the centerpiece of the whole pitch. It covers nearly the entire back of the phone, acting as a persistent, low-power canvas for whatever information matters most at the moment. The use cases are immediately obvious and practical: a boarding pass that will not disappear when your battery is low, a QR code for your portfolio ready at a moment’s notice, or your daily calendar visible without a single tap. Reetle calls it a “Widget Switching Display,” which suggests a dynamic hub where you can cycle through different views, from a simple to-do list to custom artwork. Crucially, this is also where the AI-generated summaries from your recordings are meant to live, turning a static information panel into an active part of your workflow.

The case has its own power source, offering 10 hours of continuous reading or 10 hours of recording, with a standby time of seven days. That is a respectable battery budget for an accessory, and it recharges via MagSafe passthrough, which seems rather fascinating because it implies that power passes through an E-Ink display into the case – which is fairly game-changing if you ask me. I don’t think I’ve seen any device allow charging right through an existing component sitting between two charging coils. That aside, the Reetle also packs a tempered-glass back and a military-grade protective construction that keeps itself as well as your phone secure from accidental drops.

The entire UX is powered by the Reetle mobile app. This app is the command center, connecting to the case via Bluetooth and managing everything from firmware updates to AI processing. It is where you review your full transcriptions, organize your notes, and customize the widgets that appear on the E Ink display. You can choose which calendar to show, which to-do list to sync, and which images or QR codes to display. The connection uses both Bluetooth and Wi-Fi, which provides flexibility for syncing large audio files quickly when a known network is available. The success of the whole experience rests on this software being intuitive, reliable, and deeply integrated into the phone’s operating system.

What is particularly ambitious is the sheer breadth of compatibility Reetle is promising. The product is not just for the latest iPhone 17 Series. The compatibility list extends back to the iPhone 13 series, and even is compatible with the new iPhone Air (although you’re killing the Air’s appeal by mounting a thick E-Ink case on it>) The plan also includes a massive range of Android flagships from Samsung, Google, Sony, Huawei, Vivo, and others. This indicates a vision for the SmartInk I as a platform-agnostic tool, not just another Apple-centric accessory. Producing perfectly fitted cases for so many different chassis designs is a significant manufacturing challenge, but it shows a commitment to serving a much wider market.

The Reetle SmartInk I is currently on Kickstarter, where it has already flown past its initial funding goal. The early-bird price is set at about $119, with a target shipping date of February 2026. For a product category that has been largely defined by aesthetics and materials, the SmartInk I represents a genuine functional leap. It is a thoughtful synthesis of E-Ink, AI, and hardware design that re-imagines what a phone case can be. It is no longer just a protective shell; it is an active partner in managing your information and capturing your ideas. Heck, it’s probably better than any other AI accessory I’ve seen all year!

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The ‘Biscuit Saver’ saves your Cookies And Oreos From Collapsing Into Your Beverage

Because there’s nothing more disheartening than a chocochip cookie that prematurely met its end in a mug full of milk. You have no way of knowing how much time you have before the cookie gives in, you also need to ensure the cookie is at the right stage of milk-absorption. Too fast and you have a crispy cookie that’s just milk-coated on the surface, too late and you now have to drink your milk with the last gulp being a sediment of soggy dough and half-melted choco chips.

The Biscuit Saver mitigates that. Like a lifesaver for your beverage-biscuit, this was originally designed to be paired with Parle-G biscuits (the world’s largest selling biscuit) and chai – a perfect combination in India. Chai disintegrates biscuits much faster than milk, given it’s usually served piping hot. The judgement requires some clever calculations, often boiling down to mere milliseconds. With Aditya Singh’s ‘Biscuit Saver’, that calculation becomes a little less existential, because you can always fish the broken biscuits out of your chai without using a spoon, or worse, your fingers.

Designer: Aditya Singh

The design concept (imagined using AI) takes inspiration from lifesaver tubes that are used to save humans at sea. Made out of food-grade plastic, the Biscuit Saver comes with a perforated basket, much like those tea infusers you see, and a tube around the top that keeps it floating on your drink. The design, which works primarily for the rectangular Parle-G biscuits, can be tweaked to work for cookies and Oreos too… and its predominant job is to ensure your baked goods don’t end up at the bottom of your beverage.

However, Singh mentions that the Biscuit Saver does one other crucial function too – it tells you exactly how much to dip your biscuit. Some of us overenthusiastic folks like to test the limits by dipping the biscuit/cookie all the way, a high risk with a low reward. The Biscuit Saver’s design stops your biscuit from being ‘over-dipped’. As soon as your biscuit hits the base, it acts as a tactile indicator for you to stop. You can still push the biscuit down further, but at your own peril.

The unique design works perfectly with Parle-G biscuits as well as Biscoff biscuits. The orange design and the nylon rope perfectly capture the product’s inspiration, and the tapered basket means you can stack multiple Biscuit Savers on top of each other. “A tiny everyday problem. Thoughtfully overdesigned,” says Singh humorously in his LinkedIn post, playfully reminding us all of the times when an overdunked cookie or overdipped biscuit was the most tense moment of our lives!

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Porsche Celebrates 90 Years With Anniversary-Edition 911 GT3-Inspired Chronograph Watch

…so the first thing my brain did when I saw “F. A. P.” on the dial was laugh like a 12‑year‑old, and the second thing it did was realize Porsche Design just pulled off one of the most personal anniversary pieces they have ever done. The Chronograph 1 90 Years of F. A. Porsche sits in a weirdly perfect spot in the lineup. It rides on the modern Chronograph 1 architecture that came back in 2022, which itself is a faithful reboot of the 1972 all‑black original, but it quietly pivots the story from “50 years of a product” to “90 years of the guy who thought this way in the first place.” Same matte black instrument face, same integrated bracelet silhouette, same dashboard‑inspired layout, but now the watch talks about the designer more than the brand. That is a subtle shift, and it matters.

You still get a 40 to 41 millimeter black coated titanium case, COSC certified in house WERK 01 flyback chronograph, 10 bar water resistance, and the usual Porsche Design ergonomics that sit flat on the wrist instead of trying to cosplay a diver. The case is titanium rather than the old steel of the seventies, so you get that weird cognitive dissonance when you pick it up and your hand expects heft and gets a feather. The dial layout stays brutally functional: tri compax registers, bright white printing, red central chrono seconds, and a tachymeter that actually looks usable instead of decorative. You can tell someone in the room still cares about legibility more than sparkle.

Design: Porsche Design

What really hooks me is how they handled the vintage vibe. They went with a patina colored Super‑LumiNova on the hands and indices, but they resisted the temptation to fake scratches or faux tropical weirdness. It looks like a well kept seventies tool watch that has lived under a shirt cuff for decades, not a prop from a nostalgia cosplay shoot. The historic Porsche Design logo on the crown and clasp leans into that same energy. It nods to the early studio era without screaming “heritage” in every direction. The whole thing feels like it was designed by someone who has actually handled original Chronograph I pieces and understands that the charm lives in proportions and restraint, not sepia filters.

The F. A. P. inscription above the day date is where the watch steps over the line from clever to personal. On the standard Chronograph 1, that real estate belongs to the logo. Here, it mirrors the way Ferdinand Alexander had his own initials printed on his personal watch. That is a tiny move, but it shifts the mental image from “product on a shelf” to “object on a designer’s wrist while he is sketching the 911 profile.” It also quietly de‑centers the corporate identity for once. You have “Porsche Design” still sitting under the day date, but visually your eye lands on those initials first, like a signature on a technical drawing. For a brand that usually guards its mythology pretty tightly, that feels surprisingly intimate.

Flip the watch over and the car nerd part of my brain wakes up. The rotor is shaped and colored like the wheel of the 911 GT3 90 F. A. Porsche, the Sonderwunsch special that pairs with this chronograph. Limited to 90 cars, 90 watches, neat and tidy. The rotor design is not subtle at all, which I actually appreciate. If you are going to tie a watch to a specific vehicle, commit. You can see the spokes, the crest in the center, and little flashes of the WERK 01 movement breathing underneath. Around the edge you get the “XX/90” numbering and F. A. Porsche’s signature, which turns the caseback into a kind of mechanical plaque. It reads like a collaboration between the motorsport department and the watch studio rather than a lazy logo slap.

From a pure tech perspective, the movement choice fits the narrative. The WERK 01 family is a proper automatic chronograph caliber with flyback functionality, so you can reset and restart the chrono with a single pusher press while it is running. That is a very motorsport friendly behavior, and it feels right for something tied to a GT3. Frequency sits at the usual 4 hertz, power reserve lands in the 40 to 48 hour neighborhood, and COSC certification locks in the “this actually keeps time” part of the story. None of this is wild horological innovation, but it is solid, coherent engineering, which is honestly what you want under a dial that screams “instrument.”

The titanium bracelet deserves a mention too, because black bracelets can go very wrong. Here it looks like they kept it fully brushed with short, slightly rounded links, which avoids the cheap, shiny PVD look that haunts a lot of black watches. It tapers enough to feel intentional, not like a straight metal strap bolted on after the fact. The quick change system with the additional Truffle Brown leather strap is a nice structural detail rather than lifestyle garnish. The brown with contrast stitching echoes the interior of the GT3 90 F. A. Porsche, so again you get that one to one mapping between car and watch. If you are the sort of person who obsesses over interior spec codes, this will scratch a very specific itch.

What I like most is the sense of continuity. The original 1972 Chronograph I took the visual logic of a 911 instrument cluster and shrank it to wrist size. The 2022 Chronograph 1 reissue proved that the formula still works in a world of OLED dashboards and smartwatches. This 90 Years edition layers a biographical note on top of that, without disturbing the core geometry. If you strip away the anniversary text, you still have a clean, ruthless, daily wear chronograph that does its job. Add the initials, the wheel rotor, the limited number, and suddenly you are wearing a piece of design history that feels strangely unforced. For an object built to honor a man who hated unnecessary ornament, that feels about right.

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