Alright, kid, here’s the truth nobody puts on the blueprint. A machine can move beautifully. Tilt just right. Hit every mark. Feel alive. But without software? It’s just a very talented bucking bronco. We hit that moment fast. The rig could move. Oh yeah, it moved . But the experience? That needed a brain. Something that could talk to the hardware, read the room, react in real time, and stop the whole thing turning into an expensive rodeo. Enter the demo. Built in collaborati

Alright, kid — this is the part nobody warns you about. You spend weeks making sure the ship flies. You fight the rattles, the glitches, the moments where everything almost falls apart. You stack the evidence, pin it to the wall, and finally say, “Yeah… this thing works.” And then someone asks the  question. Not about motors. Not about safety limits. Not about power draw or calibration curves. They ask: “Okay… but what are people actually going to experience on this thing?”

Every operation hits a point where you stop moving and start taking stock. For us, that meant the wall. Not a clean one. Not a neat one. A real wall - screens flickering, printouts curling at the edges, notes slapped up wherever there was space left to stick them. Reaction shots.  Calibration numbers.  Handwritten warnings like: “DO NOT TRY THIS AGAIN WITHOUT TIGHTENING THAT GIZMO.” We step back. Arms crossed. Eyes tired. Grins we try not to show. Because the evidence is stac

Alright, kid…this is the dangerous part. Not the testing. Not the machinery waking up. The showing just enough  part. We don’t throw open the hangar doors. That’s how you lose a ship before it’s spaceworthy. Instead, we crack them open, just a sliver. Enough for the hum to leak out. Enough for someone passing by to stop and say,“Hang on… what the hell is that ?” The rig powers up in half-light.Shadows stretch. Motors settle into a low whine like they’re daring someone to get

Alright, kid…you ever seen a machine wake up? Not boot up. Not initialise. Actually wake up. Like it just realised it has a personality and decided to try it out. That’s where we’re at. Our prototype rig has started making…choices. The motors hum in a way that says,“I know what I’m doing, trust me. ”The frame shifts like it’s limbering up for a fight. And the sensors? Yeah, they’ve started blinking like a droid with a questionable attitude problem. It’s not malfunctioning, o

Testing Motion VR hardware at Avalandia Alright, kid, every crew has that one person you rely on for...well, everything. Schedules Operations Keeping the rest of us pointing in the same direction. The person the whole company would fall apart without. So obviously, that's who we put on the prototype first. Was it wise? Absolutely not. But Avalandia’s never exactly been famous for wise decisions. We’re more of a “try it and hope the ship holds together” kind of outfit. They st

Alright, here’s the deal I’ve got about 90 seconds before someone tells me this is a bad idea, so let’s make it quick. Avalandia builds Motion VR experiences. Not the boring kind. Not the “stand still and don’t puke” kind. The fun  kind - the kind that makes people go, “Alright…now that’s  something.” We’re talking “I didn’t know VR could do that” stuff. Look, we’re not a massive fleet of engineers or in a shiny headquarters with a fountain in the lobby. We’ve got a small tea

The Reality You can ride Every startup talks about the future. But sometimes, the future isn’t something you imagine, it’s something you can stand on, strap into, and feel . At Avalandia, we didn’t begin our journey with sketches, concept art, or “one day” ideas. We started with a machine. A machine that moves you. A machine that transports you. A machine that makes people step off with wide eyes and breathless laughter, asking, “How is this even real?” While many teams are