You can now drive Koenigsegg’s 1,600-HP GT1 racecar that never saw the grid

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Some cars are born to race, and the Koenigsegg CCGT was built for that very purpose, yet never got the chance to compete. Nearly two decades later, the Swedish brand has turned that unfinished chapter into something extraordinary. This is the CCGT1, a road-legal megacar that brings the spirit of the abandoned GT1 project to modern roads and racetracks. The limited-edition model is based on the CC850 and pays homage to the original CCGT, of which only one was ever built.

The original CCGT was conceived as a GT1 competition machine with a lightweight 1,000-kg chassis and naturally aspirated 5.0-liter V8. It showed considerable promise in testing, but changes to FIA regulations made the car ineligible before it could fulfill its racing destiny. The CCGT1 effectively gives that lost idea a second life, although in a radically more powerful and road-usable form with the signature Koenigsegg flair.

Designer: Koenigsegg

Almost every body panel has been redesigned, with the doors and removable roof being the notable exceptions. Its most dramatic feature is the enormous active rear wing, which works alongside the front splitter, sculpted underfloor and active aerodynamic systems to generate up to 800 kg of downforce at 250 km/h. Integrated NACA ducts and a bespoke roof scoop also help keep the car composed and cool during extended track sessions.

Power comes from the in-house twin-turbo V8, producing 1,280 hp on pump fuel and 1,600 hp on E85, with the engine capable of running on blends of the two. Power reaches the rear wheels through the Light Speed Transmission, paired with Koenigsegg’s new Sequential Shift system. The setup brings a race-inspired sequential lever, clutch pedal and clutchless ignition-cut shifts, while buyers can alternatively choose the Engage Shift System, which combines a gated six-speed manual interface with automatic operation. Paddle shifting remains available with both configurations.

The cockpit follows the same uncompromising philosophy. Lightweight carbon-fiber seats, six-point harnesses, a third-generation Chronocluster display and a driver-focused layout give it a distinctly competition-inspired character. Koenigsegg also introduces Ghost Fibre, a proprietary white carbon-fiber material derived from the Trevita project that combines reduced weight with greater strength and sound-deadening properties.

For owners seeking an even more focused experience, the optional factory-designed track package adds a carbon roll cage, racing seats, fire suppression, race exhaust, air jacks, track-oriented suspension and brakes, enhanced aerodynamics and dedicated track wheels and tires. Buyers also receive access to exclusive CCGT1 track days with factory support.

Koenigsegg will produce just 70 examples of the CCGT1, and all have already been allocated. The provided official and referenced sources do not disclose an official price, so no confirmed figure can be stated. What is clear, however, is that the CCGT1 is more than another extreme hypercar. The racer is Koenigsegg’s way of finally allowing an idea that never reached the starting grid to live out its racing ambitions – this time with a license plate!

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A Victorian Coffee Table Just Grew Robot Dog Legs

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Most furniture sits quietly in a room and asks nothing of you. Alexandre Veillon’s latest piece does the opposite. It crouches. It stares. It makes you feel like you walked into someone’s living room and the coffee table is about to bark.

The piece is called Let the Dog Out, and it is exactly what it sounds like: a 19th-century coffee table reborn on four articulated robot legs salvaged from a computer monitor stand. The wooden top, dating back to the 1840s, is all warmth and grain and age, the kind of surface that absorbs decades of living and doesn’t apologize for it. The legs are cold aluminum, jointed and mechanical, like something that crawled out of a Boston Dynamics prototype. Draped between the body and the legs are delicate silver chains that read unmistakably as a collar. It shouldn’t work. It absolutely works.

Designer: Alexandre Veillon

Veillon describes his practice as “bringing together two eras that were never meant to meet,” and that tension is precisely the point. The antique top carries the weight of domestic history, the kind of object that sat in parlors while people wrote letters by candlelight. The robotic legs carry the anxiety of the present, a moment when machines are being built to walk like animals, to patrol warehouses, to navigate the world on four limbs. Putting the two together doesn’t just make a conversation piece. It makes a statement about time, about obsolescence, and about what happens when old things refuse to stay still.

Veillon says the dog “emerged as the obvious choice,” describing it as “an instinctive, primal figure. A creature that seems poised to leap out of its own era.” That last line is doing a lot of heavy lifting, and I think it earns every bit of it. Because the choice of a dog isn’t arbitrary. Dogs have been beside humans for thousands of years, loyal and present through every era we’ve cycled through, from ancient hearths to Victorian parlors to whatever this current moment is supposed to be called. Pairing that symbolism with a piece of 1840s furniture feels intentional in a way that rewards you the longer you sit with it.

The images Veillon posted alongside the piece round out the vision: a detail shot of the wooden top studded with small silver bolts, a close-up of the jointed legs laid out on the floor like a dissected animal, a hand pulling a set of folded legs out of an aluminum equipment case as if loading up before a mission, and a technical illustration of the dog rendered in the style of a military schematic, complete with annotations like “Electro-Olfactory System” and “Fleamatron 1500 Quantum Computer.” It is deeply committed to the bit, and that commitment is what separates this from being a clever novelty. Veillon is building a world around this object, not just an object.

I’ll admit there is a part of me that wonders where the line is between design and sculpture. The piece is not functional in any traditional sense. You wouldn’t rest your coffee mug on it without a second thought, not with those legs positioned mid-crouch, not with that chain dangling like a leash. But maybe that’s the whole conversation Veillon wants to open. Furniture has always carried social meaning far beyond its utility. The ornate Victorian parlor table wasn’t just for setting things on. It was status, taste, cultural identity. By giving that same object animal instincts and mechanical limbs, Veillon is asking what happens when the decorative object stops pretending to be passive.

Designers working in this space, blending antique sourcing with contemporary material references, are becoming more visible, but few are doing it with this level of conceptual commitment. The decision to use computer stand arms rather than custom fabrications is exactly the right call. The off-the-shelf origin of those legs makes the collision more jarring, more honest, and somehow more interesting than any bespoke alternative would have been.

Whether you’d live with it is a completely different question. Whether you should be paying attention to Alexandre Veillon? That one’s easy.

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8BitDo Made the N64’s 30th Anniversary Keyboard Every Millennial Wants

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Nintendo’s “Funtastic” translucent plastic era tends to provoke a specific kind of nostalgia. The see-through consoles and controllers from the late 1990s made the hardware itself part of the aesthetic, and the ice blue variant of the N64 in particular developed a cult following that outlasted the console’s commercial run by several decades. The transparency wasn’t a gimmick then, and it still doesn’t feel like one now.

The 8BitDo Retro 87 Keyboard in Clear Blue arrives as part of the N64’s 30th anniversary and borrows that translucent blue finish directly. But the design doesn’t stop at the shell. Specific keys carry the actual color palette of the original N64 controller: yellow arrow keys for the C-buttons, blue and green A and B keys, and a red left Ctrl referencing the Start button. For anyone who logged enough hours with that particular controller, the color map reads immediately.

Designer: 8BitDo

The Clear Blue edition uses 8BitDo Cloud Gray Linear mechanical switches, co-developed with HUANO specifically for this version and distinct from the Kailh Box White switches in the Fami and N editions. The keycaps combine dye-sublimation PBT and ABS + PC double-shot construction with a matte UV coating, giving the legends both durability and a finish that suits the translucent shell better than a glossy alternative would.

Underneath, the hot-swappable PCB sits in a top mount configuration, which is a construction choice that tends to provide a softer, more cushioned typing feel compared to bottom mount builds. N-key rollover handles simultaneous inputs without dropping keystrokes. Per-key RGB backlighting runs through the whole board, visible through the translucent shell in a way that a standard opaque case would never allow. The 200-hour wireless battery life on a 2,000 mAh cell is rated for the 2.4 GHz wireless mode, with the adapter included in the box.

Connectivity covers three modes: Bluetooth, 2.4 GHz wireless, and wired USB, the standard trio for a modern keyboard that needs to move between devices and setups. A pair of programmable Super Buttons ships with the keyboard, matching the Clear Blue finish and assignable through 8BitDo Ultimate Software V2. They sit outside the main typing area and can take on whatever function is needed, from media controls to game inputs.

The 87-key tenkeyless layout drops the number pad but keeps the full navigation cluster, which is the practical choice for a keyboard meant to share desk space with other peripherals. The layout doesn’t commit to being purely a gaming board or purely a productivity tool, which suits a keyboard this visually distinctive rather well. Something that references a 30-year-old console doesn’t need to pretend it’s a neutral office accessory.

There’s a certain honesty to the approach here. The Clear Blue colorway isn’t a subtle nod or a distant reference; it’s an explicit callback to a specific era of hardware design that a generation of players grew up with. The translucent shell shows the PCB and internal components through the blue tint, carrying the same logic those original Funtastic consoles did: the inside of the hardware was worth looking at.

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A Console Table With Wooden Pages Built Into Its Surface

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Most furniture is designed to stay put. It sits in a corner, holds your lamp, or supports your coffee cup, and asks nothing of you beyond basic acknowledgment. Console tables, in particular, tend to be the most ignored category in any room. They’re the utilitarian afterthought you dress up with a vase and a scented candle and then completely forget about. That’s why when a piece of furniture actually makes you stop mid-scroll and stare, it deserves a proper conversation. Deniz Aktay’s Flitter Console Table is worth that conversation.

The first thing you notice is that the tabletop doesn’t behave the way a tabletop is supposed to. Rather than lying flat across its entire length, the surface fans out at one end into a spread of layered wooden sheets, fanning open like the pages of a book someone has just let go of, or like a hand of cards splayed mid-shuffle. It’s an image that takes a second to fully process, because your brain keeps trying to categorize it as something recognizable before giving up and just letting it be exactly what it is: a genuinely new idea.

Designer: Deniz Aktay

The construction is plywood, and Aktay uses it with clear intentionality. The visible edge layering, that characteristic striping you see in exposed plywood cross-sections, becomes a deliberate design feature along the fanned end. Each layer is distinct, readable, and beautifully warm against what appears to be a light oak or birch veneer on the surface. The material choice isn’t incidental. Plywood is what allows those individual sheets to fan and separate without the design collapsing into something clunky. The thinness of each layer is essential to how the whole thing reads visually, light and feathered rather than stacked and heavy.

The base grounds all of this in a completely different register. Slim, white tubular metal legs splay outward at a slight angle, giving the table a stance that feels alert rather than static. They’re simple to the point of near-invisibility, which is exactly the right call. Any more visual weight in the base and the fanned top would lose its sense of lift. As it stands, the table seems to hover rather than sit, the warm wood floating above the pale floor with minimal interruption from the structure below.

The part that genuinely impressed me when I looked more closely at the images is that the fanned layers aren’t just decorative. The gaps between them are functional storage, wide enough to slot in magazines, books, or a tablet. The storage doesn’t announce itself. It’s worked into the structure so naturally that you might not even register it as a feature until you see a laptop tucked neatly between the sheets. That’s the kind of design thinking that separates a concept render from something that could actually live in a home. Aktay solved the console table’s eternal problem, that it holds things on top but rarely within, without adding bulk, drawers, or shelves. He just opened the surface up.

Seen from the end, the Flitter is almost unrecognizable as a console table. The fanned layers compress into what looks like a compact, striated block, geometric and architectural. Rotate your view to the side and it stretches out into something long and minimal with one quietly dramatic detail. The design rewards every angle differently, which is rare, and a little thrilling. Console tables as a category don’t usually excite me. They’re functional, they’re necessary, and occasionally they’re pretty, but very rarely are they surprising. The Flitter is surprising without being theatrical. It doesn’t shout. It just quietly does something no other table in the room is doing, and then sits there looking calm about it.

Deniz Aktay established his Stuttgart-based studio DEZIN in 2020 with a focus on pure lines and modern minimalism, often with a multifunctional purpose. The Flitter Console Table lands exactly on that brief, and then some. It’s the kind of piece that makes you reconsider what furniture is actually allowed to do.

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