The Slurptop borrows its battery from the toolbox, and its body doesn’t bother pretending otherwise. This homemade cyberdeck wraps mini PC hardware in a chunky yellow-and-black clamshell, complete with an integrated carry handle and mechanical keys. It’s a completed personal project rather than a retail laptop, designed around coding, light design work, and controls that don’t apologize for taking up some extra space.
The angular, 3D-printed enclosure takes its cues from power tools, with similarly conspicuous controls. The yellow frame uses glass-fiber-filled plastic, while black components use carbon-fiber-filled filaments. An aluminum bar reinforces the hinge area, with shared bolts securing several structural layers. The handle fits between sections of the case, so assembling the housing locks it into position before its own mounting screws are added.
Open the lid, and the keyboard immediately takes over. Its 82 mechanical keys sit in angled groups rather than the straight rows you’d expect on a laptop, leaving a green trackball near the front center. That ball runs on three ceramic bearings above a sensor salvaged from a gaming mouse. You can move the pointer without clearing desk space for a separate mouse.
The display keeps things relatively conventional, pairing a 14-inch panel with a 1920-by-1200 resolution and a 16:10 aspect ratio. Behind the custom shell is hardware from a GMKtec M5 Ultra mini PC, including an AMD Ryzen 7 7730U processor, 64GB of RAM, and a 500GB SSD. CachyOS supplies the familiar Linux desktop, so there’s a recognizable computing environment beneath all that workshop character.
An XP-Pen drawing tablet also gets its own holder behind the display, adding pen input without displacing the keyboard or trackball. Connected beside the laptop, it provides a separate surface for sketching or editing artwork, leaving the main display free to show what you’re working on. That keeps everything together for travel, although actually drawing still calls for some extra desk space.
The power arrangement follows the same willingness to borrow useful parts. A 24V Kobalt tool battery supplies the machine through a converter that adjusts its output to the PC’s required 19V. A separate cutoff board guards against draining the pack too far. The battery remains an obvious external attachment, making its removal part of the operating routine instead of a repair procedure.
That decision comes with a catch, naturally. The Slurptop doesn’t charge the battery itself, so the pack has to visit its tool charger. Wall power can run the computer independently, and a switching module transfers between the adapter and battery. Keeping it plugged in lets the owner change packs without shutting down, but there’s no uninterrupted battery swap away from an outlet.
The builder reports more than four hours of writing and coding on a 4Ah battery, with some charge remaining. That’s a useful reference, not an independently measured endurance rating. The power-tool styling doesn’t come with a documented weatherproofing or drop rating, either. You can carry this homemade workstation by its handle, but treating it like a drill would be an unfortunate misunderstanding.
Making a phone call shouldn’t feel like learning a new piece of software. The HMD 2660 Flip Senior Edition responds to that familiar frustration with big buttons, a folding body, and an unexpected addition called Mary. This AI companion from inTouch brings conversation to a basic phone, letting older adults try the technology without trading their keypad for a touchscreen full of apps.
The hardware doesn’t stray far from the regular HMD 2660 Flip introduced in 2025. Open the clamshell, and there’s a 2.8-inch screen above a generously sized number pad, with a navigation control separating the two. Answering or ending a call can be tied to opening or closing the phone, giving those actions a physical beginning and end that a touchscreen doesn’t quite offer.
The outside gets its own smaller display, so checking the time doesn’t require unfolding the whole thing. Its dark body and rounded corners stick to the recognizable flip-phone formula rather than dressing the device up as medical equipment. That restraint matters here. The phone offers an alternative way to stay in touch, without announcing that its owner needs an entirely different category of gadget.
Mary adds a different kind of contact to the phone, one that’s available for a casual conversation around the clock. HMD says the companion speaks slowly, leaves room for replies, and remembers earlier conversations. A chat might involve history, a favorite memory, or a game. The interesting choice is delivering those interactions through speech, instead of asking someone to type their thoughts.
Of course, an AI feature can easily complicate a supposedly simple phone. Here, Mary appears in the main menu, and selecting her icon before pressing the call button starts the conversation. There’s no separate app to install or number to memorize. Activation still involves a website or QR code, though, so the simplest experience comes after someone has handled that initial setup.
The less glamorous details haven’t disappeared beneath the AI pitch. A removable 1,450mAh battery and USB-C charging keep the basics familiar, while HMD rates the body IP54 for protection against dust and splashes. A replaceable battery also means you can swap a worn component, rather than treating the whole phone as something that has reached retirement age.
The UK listing puts the phone at £79.99 (about $107), including a five-hour trial of Mary. Continuing the service costs £16.90 (about $23) monthly, with carrier charges potentially adding to that. The trial doesn’t automatically become a paid plan, but inTouch’s general terms say paid subscriptions renew automatically. It can be canceled, but ongoing conversations introduce another expense alongside ordinary phone service.
There’s an important distinction between making conversation easier to access and replacing human company. Mary is software, and her availability shouldn’t be confused with evidence that she reduces loneliness. The change here is how someone reaches that software. They can keep the familiar ritual of opening a phone and making a call, and still use their handset after the AI subscription ends.
Fitting a computer into a pair of glasses creates an awkward design problem: the electronics need room, but the result still has to belong on someone’s face. Povilas Grigas approaches that tension without pretending it can disappear. His Glasses concept gives the hardware a deliberately different silhouette, treating smart eyewear as its own design category rather than ordinary frames with a technological secret. I like that starting point.
Developed for his 2024 design BA thesis, the mixed-reality concept imagines an alternative to being tethered to a phone or desktop screen. The ambition is to make computing available through something worn rather than something you continually look down at or sit in front of. That’s an appealing proposition, although moving digital information closer to your eyes doesn’t automatically make it less demanding of your attention.
Visually, these glasses have enough personality to carry that discussion. The broad, rounded lens openings sit within a flowing silver-colored frame, while the bridge has two dark circular elements above an oval opening. In the front view, that arrangement almost resembles a tiny surprised face. It’s an unexpectedly playful detail in an otherwise polished object. To my eye, the overall effect lands somewhere between sculptural eyewear and a science-fiction costume department with unusually good taste.
Grigas specifies CNC-milled, polished grade 5 titanium for the frame and optically polished sapphire crystal for the lenses. Those are proposed material choices, not evidence that the finished glasses would feel featherlight or survive everyday abuse. Still, I appreciate the intention behind them. A computer worn this prominently deserves the material attention we give a watch or a favorite pair of glasses, especially if the expectation is that it becomes part of someone’s daily appearance.
The frame’s outline follows the bones around the eyes, according to Grigas, and the vision sensors occupy the bridge for a centered point of view. That placement gives the front a clear organizing feature. Rather than scattering visually competing details across the brow and corners, the design concentrates its most conspicuous technology near the middle. It’s a convincing composition, even if a convincing composition is only one part of making wearable computing practical.
From the side, the arms look substantial, with long, smooth surfaces that curve downward behind the ears. Their thickness is part of the visual identity rather than a detail the presentation tries to conceal. I’d rather see that volume handled deliberately than watch a designer chase thinness at the expense of the overall shape. Here, the broad arms and generous front feel like parts of the same object.
The personal question is whether I’d want such a distinctive object defining my face every day. I’m not sure, and that uncertainty is worth keeping in the conversation. Glasses are unusually intimate technology because people look through them while other people look at them. A frame can be beautifully resolved and still feel wrong for an individual wearer. I’d want more than an impressive image before deciding these belonged in my routine.
The proposed leather charging case helps make that routine easier to imagine. The glasses fold flat inside it, and the presentation shows a dark, textured exterior with visible stitching and a circular metal closure. It reads as an eyeglass accessory rather than a miniature electronics bag. More importantly, putting the glasses away feels like a recognizable action. I find that more reassuring than an expectation that a wearable computer should remain on your body indefinitely.
For now, this is an academic design proposal, not a demonstrated replacement for your laptop. Its presentation doesn’t establish battery endurance, display quality, or long-term comfort, so those questions remain open. What earns my interest is the willingness to give computing a visible presence without making the frame look apologetic. I wouldn’t ask these glasses to pass as ordinary eyewear. I would ask whether their eventual usefulness could earn the space they occupy on my face.
Copying customer details from a message into a spreadsheet probably isn’t anyone’s idea of a good afternoon. Unfortunately, even a perfectly capable computer still leaves plenty of that work to you. Bvio’s Violoop is a plug-in AI operator designed to handle those repetitive steps, giving your existing computer an assistant without asking you to replace the machine you’re already comfortable using.
You can tell Violoop what you need in ordinary language, such as finding customer information in a WhatsApp conversation and entering it into a customer relationship management (CRM) system. That might sound like a small convenience, until you’ve spent an afternoon repeating the same routine. The aim is to let you explain the task instead of manually carrying every detail from one window to another.
To do that, Violoop interprets what’s on the screen and interacts with applications through keyboard and mouse controls. Its companion software supports Windows, macOS, and Linux, while the screen-based approach means it doesn’t need a dedicated integration for each application. You’re still working with familiar programs, only with assistance intended to bridge the gaps between them, and without the need to learn programming to give it instructions.
Of course, customer records are only part of the paperwork that follows a small business around. Invoice details need entering into spreadsheets, documents need organizing, and files rarely end up where they belong without some encouragement. Violoop is designed to help with that preparation, taking on the repetitive handling while leaving you to check the information and decide what to do with it.
Email offers another familiar example. Having something sensible to edit can be easier than staring at an empty reply box, especially when several messages need similar responses. Violoop can prepare replies as drafts for review, giving you a starting point while keeping the final wording in your hands. You can add the context that a customer relationship or a delicate conversation actually needs.
There’s also a reason this assistant takes up physical space on your desk. Its compact enclosure and angled touchscreen give ongoing tasks a place of their own, rather than burying everything in another software window. Inside, the tiny device packs a punch of up to 26 trillion operations per second (TOPS) of AI processing. That hardware is intended to support local screen understanding and other AI work on Violoop itself.
That local processing also supports a more personal approach to recurring work. Violoop keeps personal memory on the device, retaining preferences and context so you don’t have to explain the same habits every time. Local memory doesn’t mean every task stays offline, however. Depending on the selected mode, Violoop can also connect to cloud services or larger AI models when additional help is needed.
The most interesting control might be the button on top. Violoop separates AI processing from a dedicated security controller, with an approval step for sensitive actions. The physical confirmation button gives that pause a tangible form. Preparing information and committing to an action are different responsibilities, after all, and the design puts a deliberate checkpoint between what the AI proposes and what happens next.
You don’t have to stay beside it to keep an eye on progress, either. Phone access lets you check tasks, send further instructions, and approve sensitive actions while you’re away from the desk, provided the computer remains on and connected. That’s useful when you need to step out but still want to see how things are going, without returning to the keyboard for every update.
An organized spreadsheet won’t decide which project you should take on next, and a drafted reply doesn’t know everything about the person receiving it. Those parts still belong to you. Violoop’s role is to help get the surrounding work ready, using a device that keeps progress visible and approval close at hand. That leaves the final email waiting for something decidedly familiar: your own words.
Opening a folding phone gives you more screen, but it doesn’t tell you where to put it when your hands are busy. BIONIC’s iPhone Duo Charger offers a dedicated desktop perch, combining an adjustable support with a mount for Apple’s MagSafe charging puck. Currently available for preorder, the stand keeps the unfolded display above the desk rather than lying flat beside your keyboard.
The arrangement has something of a miniature desktop monitor about it, with a broad rectangular base and a narrow upright behind the phone. Anodized aluminum forms the broad base, while polished stainless steel adds a brighter curve to the supporting arm. Available in Silver or Black, the stand follows Apple’s familiar accessory palette without adding a border around the phone’s existing bezel.
The articulated arm lets you change the viewing angle, so a screen tilted toward you for reading doesn’t have to stay there during a video call. You could keep a reference document beside your laptop without repeatedly picking up the phone. It’s a more deliberate setup than leaning an expensive foldable against whatever happens to be sitting behind the keyboard that morning.
A long slot along the front of the base gives an Apple Pencil somewhere to rest between tasks. It’s a small organizational detail, but one that keeps the stylus from becoming another loose object competing with cables and stationery. BIONIC describes this as storage, not a Pencil charging connection, so parking it there doesn’t take care of the stylus’s battery as well.
The charger in the name needs a little unpacking, too. At the listed base price, Apple’s MagSafe puck isn’t included; the stand is designed to hold one. You’ll need that charging hardware and a suitable power source before the phone can replenish its battery. The metalwork organizes the setup, but it doesn’t replace the electronics doing the actual charging behind the screen.
BIONIC lists the stand at 18.05 ounces, with a footprint approximately 7.32 inches wide and 3.74 inches deep. That footprint matters when the phone is joining a desk already crowded with other devices. A weighted base, rubber contact surfaces, and non-slip feet are intended to keep the assembly steady and protect the phone, although resistance to tapping hasn’t been independently established through testing.
Wireless charging doesn’t make the cable disappear, either. It still runs from the MagSafe mount toward a power source, with a visible loop behind the supporting arm. The open construction makes that compromise fairly honest. Rather than enclosing everything in a bulky dock, BIONIC keeps the support slender and lets the charging cable remain part of the setup sitting on your desk.
The preorder price is €219 (about $245), compared with a listed regular price of €239 (about $268), before any separate charging hardware. That’s a considerable amount for organizing a phone and stylus. It makes more sense as a permanent home for a Duo you regularly use at your desk than as a travel accessory, especially when the phone already folds neatly into your pocket.
Making pour-over coffee asks you to do more than press a button, which is part of its appeal until the morning gets busy. Breville’s Spiral Luxe Auto Pour-Over takes over the grinding and pouring while leaving the brewing process visible. This countertop machine moves its dripper between a built-in grinder and an articulating water spout, turning the familiar ritual into a mechanical sequence.
The brushed stainless steel body stacks the bean hopper, brewing head, and serving vessel vertically, with an open front that gives the dripper room to move. It has something of a coffee workshop about it, although the clear cone isn’t glass. Breville uses Tritan plastic for that part, while the included carafe below is glass, keeping the two transparent elements visually related.
Before brewing, the carriage retracts so the filter sits beneath the flat-burr grinder, which drops ground coffee straight into it. The dripper then glides forward to meet the water spout. That short journey replaces the usual transfer from a grinder into a separate brewer, bringing two jobs into one appliance without making you move a container of loose grounds across the kitchen counter.
Once the grounds are ready, the spout traces a spiral instead of relying on a stationary showerhead. Breville says its controlled stream is intended to wet the coffee evenly, echoing the motion of a gooseneck kettle. ThermoJet heating gets the water ready in seconds, according to the company, but that’s heating time, not a promise of instant coffee landing in your mug.
Control stays on the machine, where a color screen sits above a dial you turn and press. Choose a size and Mild, Medium, or Strong setting, or open Advanced Mode to adjust the coffee-to-water ratio, temperature, pours, and pauses. That gives a rushed weekday and a more experimental weekend the same interface, without requiring you to make every decision before getting a drink.
You can brew directly into a mug or use the included 20-ounce carafe when there’s someone else at the breakfast table. Removing the drip tray makes room for taller mugs, while the 40-ounce tank holds water for more than one brew. The distinction is worth noting, because a generous reservoir doesn’t turn this into a large-batch machine for serving a coffee-loving household.
Delayed Auto Start lets you arrange the filter, beans, and water beforehand, then leave the machine to begin at a chosen time. There’s also a bypass for pre-ground coffee if you’d rather use another grinder. Neither option removes the housekeeping, of course. The used paper filter still needs disposing of, and the dripper and carafe need cleaning after the machine finishes brewing.
At $599.95 in the US, the Spiral Luxe is an expensive way to delegate the kettle work. Its appeal is easier to understand if you enjoy watching coffee being made but don’t always want to supervise it. The spout can keep making its circles while you figure out what to put on your toast.
A mushroom with glowing eyes is an easier sell for my nightstand than a miniature humanoid. OKA’s Mori takes that approachable shape and gives it a specific job: offering a little company and a reason to pause, without making another screen the center of attention. Currently offered through an early-purchase program, the companion robot uses light, sound, and movement to bring some presence to a quiet room. The ambition is modest enough to feel appealing.
For anyone who wants to unwind without reaching for their phone, the physical design makes a good opening argument. Mori stands just under 12 inches tall at its maximum height, with a broad illuminated cap above a rounded, fabric-covered body. Two eyes peek out from underneath and the fabric contains 25 percent real wool. In the supplied photographs, the proportions suggest a small table lamp that wandered into an animated movie, then decided to stay. I’d happily make room for that silhouette.
Designer: OKA
The backstory gives that friendliness some purpose. OKA cofounder Hua Wang said he spent a decade designing mechanisms that brought people back to their phones. With Mori, he wanted a robot that belonged in a home rather than a large, intrusive machine. That’s a useful starting point. A domestic robot has to earn its place among your furniture before its intelligence becomes particularly interesting.
Mori’s controls lean into that furniture-friendly character. According to OKA, placing both hands on its base starts a guided breathing session, while patting its head makes the cap retract and turns it into a lamp. Light and natural soundscapes provide the setting for those breaks. I like the directness of those gestures. Touching an object to change its behavior feels appropriate here, especially when the proposed activity is stepping away from the usual sequence of opening an app, choosing a menu, and adjusting settings.
Importantly, Mori doesn’t speak in words. Its vocabulary consists of sounds, expressions, light, and movement. That limitation might be its most attractive feature. I don’t particularly want a bedside object to become another conversational obligation. A glance or a small movement leaves more room for interpretation, much like an animated character whose personality comes through before it says anything. The lamp setting also gives its owner a way to dial that personality down, with most companion reactions reduced. Cute still needs an off-ramp.
Of course, those expressive eyes come with a less whimsical consideration: sensing people inside their homes. OKA’s privacy policy says Mori’s core AI runs locally, with camera and microphone inputs processed on the device. Raw audio and image frames are discarded after processing, while recognition information can remain locally to distinguish users. The policy separately allows collection of account, device, and diagnostic information. That distinction matters. Local processing is a welcome design decision, but I’d still read the permissions before inviting a camera-equipped companion onto the dresser.
OKA also says Mori learns and becomes more individual through repeated interaction. That’s the promise I’d reserve judgment on until longer-term use establishes what actually changes. A familiar gesture could become endearing, or simply predictable. The interesting design challenge is giving Mori enough variation to sustain affection without making it demand attention. Its quiet role sets a higher bar than the adorable appearance initially suggests: it needs to remain pleasant when the novelty has worn off.
At $649 before taxes and shipping for First Access orders, Mori is an expensive experiment in companionship. That purchase includes two years of its Nature Time subscription; OKA says basic functions won’t require a paid plan, and the included subscription won’t automatically become a paid one. I’m drawn to the object, but the price makes its everyday behavior more important than its introductory charm. The real payoff would be a robot you enjoy having nearby even when you aren’t actively playing with it. A mushroom-shaped lamp already has a place in a home. Mori has to make the eyes worth paying for.
Putting a large screen on a gaming handheld is easy compared with making the whole thing comfortable to hold. AYN’s Odin 3 Portal approaches that problem with a 7-inch OLED up front and sculpted grips behind it. Now available for preorder, the Android handheld combines a broad, glass-covered face with physical controls that give your fingers somewhere other than the screen to go.
That front surface stretches across the display and surrounding control areas, giving the device a flatter, more unified appearance than a screen dropped into a chunky frame. Black keeps the boundary between panel and housing less conspicuous, while White and Cold Grey emphasize it. The latter’s purple buttons add retro flavor without turning the machine into a tribute to another console.
Turn it over, and the shape becomes less concerned with looking flat. Rounded bulges give your palms somewhere to settle, while textured shoulder buttons meet your index fingers above. The full-size Hall-effect sticks have ridged edges, and a dome D-pad sits below the left stick. These details aim to improve control, though actual comfort will depend on your hands and how you play.
The screen is a 1920×1080 OLED with a 120Hz refresh rate, giving supported games room to show smoother motion without asking you to peer at a tiny display. That doesn’t mean every game will run at 120 frames per second, of course, nor should you always crank it up. It depends on the game, settings, and your remaining battery.
Behind that screen is Qualcomm’s Dragonwing Q8 processor, paired with Android 15 and active cooling. A broad rear grille gives the internal fan room to draw air, making ventilation part of the exterior rather than hiding it completely. That’s worth remembering when you settle in with the handheld against a cushion, since the cooling system still needs an unobstructed path to breathe.
Power comes from a 9,000mAh battery, with support for 60W charging when you need to plug back in. Actual playtime will depend on the game and screen settings, so that capacity doesn’t translate into a guaranteed afternoon away from an outlet. At about 15.9 ounces, the handheld puts weight behind that screen, especially when a quick session somehow becomes an entire evening.
Storage starts at 128GB with 12GB of RAM, while the top model offers 1TB and 16GB of RAM. There’s also a microSD slot, so choosing less built-in storage doesn’t close off future expansion. AYN specifies that no games come preinstalled, however. You’re buying the hardware for your own library and setup, not a ready-made collection of nostalgic favorites waiting behind the power button.
Launch pricing starts at $399, with the 1TB version reaching $669 and shipping expected to begin in early November 2026. The pricier configuration doesn’t buy a different screen or processor, just more memory and storage than the base model. That leaves a practical choice between keeping a larger library installed and keeping the price down, particularly when a memory card remains an option.
The back of Teenage Engineering’s EP-35 opens to reveal a compartment for cables and accessories. It’s a wonderfully unglamorous feature to put on a music gadget. An amp can look perfectly composed in a product photo, but taking it anywhere means figuring out where the supporting cast goes. Giving those loose pieces a home inside the speaker feels like an acknowledgment of how people actually use their equipment.
That practical streak extends beyond storage. Listed for sale at $399, the EP-35 combines a portable speaker, an instrument amplifier, and a USB audio interface. It accepts guitar, microphone, line-level, Bluetooth, and USB audio, with multiple sources able to play together. The problem it addresses is straightforward: playing guitar over a backing track, or adding vocals, shouldn’t require assembling a small equipment department. Here, those connections meet in one box.
Visually, the EP-35 has the charm of equipment that might belong in a very stylish school science lab. Its gray body, square grille, integrated handle, and orange accents are deliberately matter-of-fact. I like that the speaker drivers remain visible behind the grid. They give the front a slightly awkward, almost characterful expression. Nothing about the proportions suggests an object desperate to disappear into your decor, which is part of its appeal.
The controls make a similar impression. There are physical dials for choosing effects and adjusting their intensity, with eight presets each for guitar and microphone. That’s an approachable arrangement: select a sound, turn a control, hear what changes. I’d rather see that direct relationship on something intended for casual playing than a screen full of options. The microphone effects even include presets called “robo choir” and “frog,” which gives you a fair idea of the intended mood.
The USB audio interface is less visually entertaining but potentially more useful. Connect the EP-35 to a computer and it can serve as a recording interface, giving the same object a role at a desk after it comes home. That continuity makes sense to me. A portable device earns its shelf space more easily when it doesn’t become redundant the moment you’re near a power outlet and a laptop.
Inside the storage compartment, Teenage Engineering has also included a small camp light. It can illuminate the compartment automatically when opened, stay on, or react to incoming audio in disco mode. Tilting the speaker backward makes those LEDs display the battery level. Some of this is useful, some is cheerfully unnecessary. I’m happy with that balance. Checking a battery through a small physical gesture is a more memorable interaction than another tiny percentage readout.
Portability does need a little perspective, though. At about seven pounds, the EP-35 is something you carry by its handle, not casually toss into a small shoulder bag. Teenage Engineering rates battery life at 12 hours with the volume set to five, so that figure shouldn’t be treated as an all-day guarantee at any loudness. It’s also splash-resistant rather than waterproof. Those distinctions matter if the appealing camp light has you mentally packing it for a weekend outdoors.
There’s room to expand the setup, too. Two EP-35s can play Bluetooth audio in stereo through broadcast mode. Teenage Engineering’s instructions let you assign left and right channels by tilting each speaker before starting that mode. Connected instruments take a different route: linking their sound between speakers requires a line-out-to-line-in cable. That’s worth understanding before imagining a completely wireless mini stage. The wireless convenience applies specifically to Bluetooth playback.
For me, the $399 price makes the most sense if those musical connections will get regular use. Someone who only wants background listening would be paying for considerable capability they might never touch. Sound quality still needs a listening test; clever packaging can’t settle that question. But I appreciate the attention paid to what happens between sessions. The music stops, the cables come out, and the EP-35 gives you somewhere to put them. That’s a modest design decision with a very recognizable payoff.
Interchangeable batteries offer near-uninterrupted use
Familiar frame styling keeps the design approachable
Adjustable temples and nose pads help personalize the fit
In-view translation into 98 languages reduces the need to check a phone
CONS:
Swapping batteries require a 5-second reboot
Optional prescription lenses don't support hyperopia (farsightedness)
RATINGS:
AESTHETICS
ERGONOMICS
PERFORMANCE
SUSTAINABILITY / REPAIRABILITY
VALUE FOR MONEY
EDITOR'S QUOTE:
The INMO GO3 AI Glasses pair familiar eyewear styling with practical translation tools and the convenience of swappable batteries.
Looking down at a phone to translate a conversation can interrupt the exchange it’s supposed to help. Reading presentation notes creates a similar problem, pulling attention away from the people in front of you. The INMO GO3 AI Glasses bring those words into view instead, putting translation and presentation tools inside a familiar rectangular frame that doesn’t require a dramatic change in personal style.
That familiar shape is only part of the appeal, though. Adjustable contact points, discreet controls, and, most importantly, a replaceable battery give the GO3 a practical foundation beyond its display. Together, they suggest an approach to smart glasses that puts everyday wear on equal footing with software features. How convincingly the GO3 brings those priorities together comes down to a few details, starting with the frame itself.
The INMO GO3’s rectangular lenses and softened corners give it the outline of conventional eyewear, although the frame has more substance than a pair of reading glasses. That’s a reasonable visual compromise, of course, given what it packs inside. The thicker brow provides room for the display hardware while giving the front a confident shape, rather than leaving its components looking like something awkwardly attached afterward.
The dark matte finish does much of the visual work. It gives the broad surfaces a quieter presence than glossy plastic would, while the small red accents around the hinges add a bit of personality. Thankfully, the color doesn’t spread across the frame. There’s enough contrast to make the details interesting without making the glasses look like equipment borrowed from a gaming setup.
The GO3 utilizes aluminum alloy and polyamide for the construction with a CNC-finished, fingerprint-resistant surface. It’s not an entirely metal object, which makes sense when you consider that the electronics also add their own weight to the equation. The frame and temples share a restrained finish instead of competing for attention through contrasting textures.
The slim temples measure around 8mm, keeping the side profile from becoming an oversized box. The curved ends retain the familiar outline of glasses, even with additional hardware inside. It isn’t dainty eyewear, admittedly, but the shape avoids the visor treatment that would make a business lunch feel like a technology demonstration.
The camera is integrated into the front rather than perched above it, and the controls follow the temples. These details help the INMO GO3 read as a somewhat fashionable object instead of gadgets sharing a frame. A supplied camera cover also provides a way to obscure the lens when recording isn’t appropriate, especially given the current conversations around smart glasses.
Ergonomics
At approximately 58 grams, the INMO GO3 has the weight of electronics to accommodate as well as the frame itself. Comfort depends on more than the number on the specification sheet. The relationship between the nose pads, temples, and ears matters as much. There’s a focus on those contact points, rather than relying on a lightweight label to explain away the fitting process.
Air-cushion nose pads support the front, while the temples offer 15 degrees of adaptive movement, at least on paper. That flexibility gives the frame room to accommodate differences in head shape. Naturally, there will be cases when the head shape just won’t fit, but INMO has tried to accommodate as many head sizes as possible.
Given we’re talking about glasses, prescription support is another important piece of that everyday equation. The GO3 uses an insert system, with INMO’s current lenses supporting nearsightedness and astigmatism, though not farsightedness. That won’t cover every prescription, but it gives supported wearers a way to combine vision correction and the display.
Operating the glasses doesn’t have to depend on talking to them. Temple touch controls and physical power and GO buttons provide alternatives, while the companion app handles setup and settings. When you’re around people or somewhere that requires a degree of silence, a discreet gesture is often preferable to a spoken command, and familiar controls help make the wearable format a little less foreign.
Performance
Two-Way Dialogue Translation – Read translations directly through the glasses, while the other person sees or hears your translated response on the phone.
The INMO GO3’s binocular green Micro-LED display uses optical waveguides, with a 640×480 resolution and a 30-degree field of view. Adjustable brightness is listed up to 1,500 nits, which is plenty even for the bright outdoors. That said, those specs clearly mark it as something more for text and guidance rather than a miniature cinema. Green lettering has a slightly retro character, but a translation or the next line of a speech doesn’t need a full-color backdrop to be useful.
Translation, of course, is the primary use case for these glasses, and the numbers are admittedly impressive. INMO lists 78 source languages and 98 target languages online, with subtitles appearing in view rather than on a phone held between speakers. Offline support covers nine languages on Android and 13 on iOS, and future updates promise even more. The phone still needs to stay paired to a phone, of course, but a missing internet connection needn’t end every supported conversation.
Built-In Teleprompter – Follow your script directly through the glasses.
For presentations, the teleprompter moves the script from a desk into the speaker’s field of view, allowing for a more natural-looking stage presence. There’s automatic voice-following advancement in 17 languages (including English, Mandarin, Cantonese, Japanese, Korean, German, French, Thai, Russian, Spanish, Portuguese, Polish, Arabic, Indonesian, Vietnamese, Dutch, and Italian), alongside manual scrolling from the temple. Other languages will be displayed, depending on the document uploaded by the user, but the pages for unsupported languages can’t be automatically turned by voice. Very few will be sitting close enough to realize you’re not exactly looking at them, but at least you won’t be spending half of the presentation staring down at your notes.
Photo Translation – Point the camera at written text and read its translation directly through the glasses.
The GO3 also offers features better used in meetings, such as recording, transcription, and AI summaries for later review. Walking and cycling directions, an AI assistant powered by ChatGPT and Gemini, and photo translation extend the same idea beyond work scenarios: put a useful answer nearby without making a phone screen the center of every activity.
Admittedly, many AI smart glasses offer similar features, but the INMO GO3’s killer feature is its interchangeable battery system. One 270mAh battery is installed in the glasses, with one spare included. Continuous use yields around 3 hours on a full charge, which is probably more than enough for most use cases. The 1,300mAh battery charging case offers three to four more charges, so you practically get a full day’s worth in total.
Where it gets interesting is how you can swap out the dead battery on the tip of the GO3 with the spare in the charging case. It’s quick and convenient, but not entirely seamless. The glasses will shut down when you pull out the battery, but plugging a fresh one in boots it up in just a few seconds. It does mean you have to briefly stop what you’re doing or make sure you’re not in the middle of something critical, but it’s better than waiting for minutes for the glasses to charge up.
Sustainability
The replaceable battery has a longer-term benefit beyond getting through a busy afternoon. An aging power cell doesn’t automatically have to take the entire pair of glasses out of service. INMO lists a replacement battery at $49, making that component a separate ownership expense. That’s a useful piece of product design: the part expected to wear with repeated charging doesn’t have to remain permanently sealed inside.
That doesn’t establish a complete sustainability story, and there’s no need to pretend otherwise. The reviewed specifications don’t establish recycled material content, comprehensive component repairability, or an end-of-life program. The more defensible advantage is the ability to keep the same frame in service when its battery needs replacing. Thoughtful care still matters, particularly for the lenses and hinges, but accessible power replacement is a concrete place to start.
Value
At $699, currently discounted to $509, the INMO GO3 asks for a commitment beyond casual curiosity. The standard package includes the glasses, installed battery, single spare, and battery charging case. That’s a coherent starting point, with the power system already accounted for. The value comes from using the display repeatedly, rather than paying for a collection of functions that remain untouched save for a few presentations or travels abroad.
The useful comparison is between priorities, rather than a contest over the longest feature list. Camera-and-audio glasses answer a different need from eyewear that puts text in view, while entertainment-focused displays serve another purpose again. For someone moving between multilingual conversations and presentations, the GO3’s combination is easier to justify. That it can also be your travel companion and AI assistant brings added value to the table, especially when you don’t look like a walking technology advertisement.
Verdict
The INMO GO3’s most appealing quality is how its design keeps returning to recognizable habits. Wear glasses, follow a conversation, glance at a script, and change a battery when necessary. The technology adds steps of its own, of course, but the physical form doesn’t ask for an entirely new routine. Its familiar outline and adaptable contact points give the translation and presentation tools a sensible place to live.
Travelers, presenters, and people working across languages have the clearest reasons to appreciate that combination. A paired phone remains part of most workflows, and battery changes belong between tasks, but neither qualification takes away the appeal of information placed closer to the conversation. There’s something refreshingly practical about glasses that leave room for ordinary interactions, even when a little green text is helping them along.
