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

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