Rocky Horror Triple Contact Electro Magnet [sic]

Refresher: Brad, Frank-N-Furter, and Riff Raff are in the laboratory when the monitor reveals Dr. Scott entering the castle. To skip a chase scene, Frank activates the Triple Contact Electro Magnet, drawing Dr. Scott’s wheelchair on a comically twisty route through the castle to the magnet. (Look close and you’ll see both the wire pulling Jonathan Adams and the carpet separate when he gets near the top.)

It’s hard not to linger on the litany of ways this defies physics and…you know…reason, but let’s stick to interface and interaction. The main control is a lever that slides along a channel that runs a third of the way horizontally, then downward diagonally for the middle third, and horizontally again for the last third.

Screenshot from the movie showing a close-up of Frank’s hand manipulating the lever. Dripping-blood overlay highlights the guided channel.

When Frank pulls the lever to the right, the first contact (the v-shaped electromagnet) extends away from the wall. When he pulls it along the slope, the second contact extends. The last slide right extends the third. Across all three, a humming sound in the background increases in intensity.

After sliding it all the way to the right, Frank raises a heel to the corner of the panel, and we see the magnet take hold of Dr. Scott’s wheelchair. This may be more than posturing, see below.

A subtle character clue

In the vivification scene, Frank-N-Furter shouts orders for minions to carry out. Here he grabs and manipulates the machine himself. As I noted in my old Presidents Day post, it is a mark of authority to be the one issuing orders but not carrying them out.

Two screenshots from the movie side-by-side contrasting Frank in command with Frank desperately grabbing the controls for himself.

Frank’s use of machinery here signals both his increasing paranoia and decreasing regality. Riff Raff’s betrayal cannot be too far off.

Oh, wait. I said I’d focus on interfaces.

Right is more is right

Unlike what we see in the monitor and vivification interfaces, here the mapping makes much more sense. This is an English-speaking movie, and for this audience, right equals more is the natural mapping. So props where it’s due for that. As Frank moves the lever to the right, more contacts engage, we hear more humming, and more targeted cartoon magnetism is caused.

{Umpromtped image: Imagine a Tex Avery-style illustration of Frank-N-Furter from The Rocky Horror Picture Show holding three gigantic U-shaped magnets in his laboratory. Leather jacket with studs and chains, fishnets. --ar 16:9}

Selection is missing

Surely there are other metal objects in the castle that would become bullet-like projectiles the moment this was activated: the studs on Frank-N-Furter’s jacket, the anklet he wears (which, ok, might be silver), Dr. Scott’s glasses, the record player in the room where Columbia and Magenta sit, etc. etc.

If the magnet is strong enough to pull a wheelchair through a masonry wall across two floors and at least four rooms, you would expect it to attract other things as well, but…[FX: cricket sounds].

If we presume that the magnet can somehow target objects and leave others alone, there should be some interface for allowing the user to name or specify the object to target. That’s fairly easy to do in a 2026 world of foundation models, speech-to-text, and computer vision, but would have been a major challenge using 1975 technology. I’ll discuss some speculative solutions for this in the upcoming post about the Medusa interface, but in the meantime I leave it as an exercise for the reader.

The guided channel

A plate with a channel cut in it, through which a lever slides, is called a guided channel. The channel guides the motion of the lever.

A blood-dripped comp of a manual gearbox H-pattern. First is up left. Second is directly down from first. Third is up to the right of first. Fourth is directly down from third.
Fifth is up to the right. R for reverse is farthest right at the bottom.

The control for the Triple Contact Electro Magnet has a guided channel, and it borrows from lineages of the automotive gear shift. A manual gearbox’s H-pattern (variation pictured above) is mechanically determined: the channel is a map of the shift rails underneath it. The automatic transmission’s staggered gate is the opposite, that is, a later addition that was retrofitted for error prevention.

Either way, a bend in the channel buys some things.

  1. It allows confident mode selection by turning each distinct position into a pause point that you reach by pushing until the lever stops, so you don’t need to know your current state before you shift, and you don’t have to commit attention and fine motor control to arrest the motion yourself. In this case, every switch sits at an obtuse corner, and that corner interrupts a directional push. This effect would be even more pronounced with 90° or acute angles. Note Frank does not look at the control as he uses it, because he doesn’t need to. He can feel it.
  2. Additionally, the bend puts a safety barrier between states that are dangerous when adjacent. In a car that helps avoid accidental shifts from, say, fifth gear to second, where you might seriously redline the engine. Or worse, if you slipped past neutral into reverse while traveling at speed, your transmission might end up in parts on the road beneath you. That’s the reason regulators require neutral to sit between drive and reverse.

And, sadly, none of these things matter in this context.

  • Since the magnetic effect can be targeted to individual objects (no other way to explain the basic events on screen), there’s no apparent cost to setting it too high. So, mode selection isn’t precious.
  • As a status indicator, it’s redundant. The extended contact is a second cue and the sound of the system a third, and there’s no evident penalty for overshooting to full power. Generally speaking, a bent channel earns its place when use is fast, habitual, and eyes-free. I cannot imagine what regular use of the Triple Contact Electro Magnet might fit these requirements.
  • This is less like a gear shifting through different modes and more like a volume control with four steps (off being one). There are no modes that are dangerously adjacent, so the functional pause isn’t warranted.
Screenshot from the film showing Frank in his dinner party blouse looking judgy.

So the interface is doing something it absolutely doesn’t need to for any functional reason. Sorry, Frank.

No, not the Triple Contact Electro Magnet!

But what it does do very well is drama. Like, you can imagine alternate interfaces:

  • A four-step dial with stops at either extent.
  • Three toggle switches, one above each contact.
  • Illuminated buttons above each, similar to the proposal for the The Reactor Power Input.
  • Even manual pull bars on the contacts, like you see on an airline serving cart, would do the trick.

But none of them give Frank and the other Transsexuals as much opportunity to be over-the-top dramatic as they crank the magnetism up, up, up. That’s impressive for victims (and conventioneers, if they were around), and perfect for Frank’s theatricality.

So even though this control isn’t really warranted, from a functional standpoint, it totally is from the users POV.

Screenshot from the film showing Frank wearing a conical birthday hat looking smug.

Bonus: What if Frank’s not just posturing?

Hear me out on this bit. It’s curious to me that the magnets don’t seem to have any effect on Dr. Scott until all three are extended, and, when they do, they function all at once. Sure, it’s editing convenience, but what if it’s something more? What if Frank’s heel pose is not posturing—well, ok, it’s posturing, but what if it’s also authentication? Imagine a passive RFID key located in Frank’s high heels, and the detector mounted in the plating. (Or maybe the detector is the plating.)

Screenshot from the film showing a close up of Frank’s legs against the panel with three Electro Magnet Contacts extended. Dripping-blood overlays include a wifi signal around the heel.

This would help Frank feel more certain that it can only be operated by him, or at least someone in possession of the shoes. Since the key is disguised, it adds to the security of the interaction. And its activation requires a heel up, which as we’ve seen is a standard Frank move. It would also explain why despite having activated the Triple Contact Electro Magnet to full power, it only takes effect all at once when Frank’s heel activates it.

And if you weren’t aware, interaction design of women’s footwear is kind of a thing.

So now this activation mechanism is my headcanon.

There’s one more set of interfaces that go together, and they’re next. Transducer, Medusa, and de-Medusa (currently scheduled for 29 Sep 2026)

Rocky Horror Vivification Interfaces

As we continue to look at the interfaces in The Rocky Horror Picture Show, this post will focus on the interfaces used to bring Rocky to life. The fancy Latinate word for this is vivification.

Come up to the lab

The interfaces in the lab where the procedure happens are mounted on an illuminated glass-brick wall. They are heavy and industrial-looking, cased in powder coat red and bolted together. They connect by pipe conduits. It very much reminds me of the ghost containment panel in Ghostbusters, which world be released nine years later.

They include…

We’ll talk about the whole set in a later post, but for now let’s focus on the ones involved in the vivification scene—when Frank-N-Furter brings Rocky to life before the Transylvanian conventioneers. These devices are the Sonic Oscillator, the Reactor Power Input, and the Handwheel.

Screenshot from the movie showing a distance shot of the laboratory interfaces on the wall. Labels in dripping blood type read “Sonic Oscillator”, “Reactor Power Input”, and “Handwheel”. Arrows point from the label to the interface.
This

Throughout the scene, Frank-N-Furter acts as a dramatic ringleader, telling his helpers what to do next. He begins by calling to Riff Raff, who stands at the instrument panel. Frank shouts, “Throw open the switches on the Sonic Oscillator!” Which brings us to…

The Sonic Oscillator

Screenshot from the movie showing Frank at the vat pointing with an intense expression toward Riff Raff. At his side are Columbia and Magneta. Dripping blood typography reads “THROW OPEN THE SWITCHES ON THE SONIC OSCILLATOR”.

This box has two large, vertical lever switches on the left. To the right of the switches is a column with small, dim, cowled displays. (That right half is the Reactor Power Input, to be discussed below.) Riff Raff pulls each of the the levers down, and as he does so, one of the cowled screens illuminate with faint green oscilloscope waves. It has no other discernible effect.

Several critiques about this interface.

  • Up maps more intuitively to on, open, and more. The levers should be pushed up to turn the oscillators on.
  • If it’s critical they remain in an up position for a duration, or to prevent accidental de/activation, it should either latch in the up position, or the friction joint holding it in place should be very strong.
  • The prop makers were probably constrained to the size of available oscilloscopes, but the screens are quite small compared to their housing. If they are meant to be read at any distance, those screens should be larger, and the displays be reworked to be more legible.
  • These controls are poorly mapped to their actuators. Imagine the improvement: Levers half this height could be stacked on top of the other, and be much more clearly associated with their screens by dint of being adjacent to them and only to them. As it is, when off, the rightmost lever is closest to the screen it does not control.
  • The two levers are quite close to each other. If they are meant to be operated simultaneously, that’s fine, but in the scene Riff Raff operates them separately, so it’s not their only use. If they weren’t stacked to improve their mappings like I suggested above, they should at least be moved apart to decrease the risk of accidental activation.

Three More Triangles!

Next Frank shouts, “And step up the reactor power input three…more…points!”

Screenshot from the movie showing Frank pointing dramatically to Riff Raff. Dripping blood typography reads “STEP UP THE REACTOR POWER INPUT THREE… MORE… POINTS!”

The right half of the box has an unlabeled, diamond-shaped dial on top, and, below, a set of eight red triangles arranged in a circle looking a bit like the Umbrella Corporation logo.

(Sorry about the darkness of these images. Keeping the illumination of the buttons visible means I can’t raise the midtone levels, like I could for the prior images.)

At Frank’s command, Riff Raff presses three alternating triangles in the umbrella control. (If numbering like a clock that goes to 8, he presses 5, then 7, then 1.) They illuminate as he presses them. With each button, the needle in the dial steps to the next graduation. Steam begins to escape from the nearby pipes (a side effect, one presumes). Neither the steam nor the reactor power input has any other discernible effect.

Several critiques about this interface.

  • The face should illuminate when the input is above zero for better readability, glanceability, and association with the illuminated buttons.
  • The needle is barely visible, especially from a distance. The needle should be as visible as the glowing buttons.
  • The umbrella-top arrangement of the buttons is poorly mapped. Up maps to more. Right also maps to more in left-to-right reading cultures. This clock wheel arrangement implies circularity, which makes no sense to modify a variable between 0 and 7.
  • Skipping places makes no sense. (The every-other button thing.) Had Frank asked to step it up five or more points, the interaction and display would have been awkward and error prone to both execute and read.
  • Presuming buttons show target value and the dial shows actual value, then they should be tightly mapped. Think of a thermostat where the target temperature is displayed adjacent to the actual temperature. See the comp below for a better suggestion of mapping.
  • If [measurement does not equal target] is an issue, then we need an alert. If the reading exceeds the setting, the setting button should blink; if it falls short, all buttons between the reading and the setting should blink to signal that it the value is not where it should be. Though, I have to note that if that kind of precision is called for, then it shouldn’t be buttons at all, but be a control that offers more precision, like a dial.
  • Riff Raff should just be able to press any button and have it and all the lower value buttons illuminate automatically. Press three, and one and two should illuminate without his having to press them. He shouldn’t have to press all three in sequence. It should also not prevent him from doing so, if he (or Frank) want to be dramatic.
  • Generally speaking, graduations should be labeled. This particular interface has few enough elements that I might give it a pass, since I suspect it can be easily subitized, positively (how many are lit) or negatively (how many are dim).
A comp showing a fan-shaped dial. The glowing fan is divided for 7 graduations. A needle points around 2.8. Above each graduation is a button. The first three are illuminated and glowing. The last four are not. The graphic has the “dripping blood” treatment seen throughout the graphics.

Much better. The comp raises the additional question of how it is turned off. I presume in the original they were toggle buttons that you would press again to turn off, so that could work here. So—press any but the current setting, and it changes. Press the current illuminated setting and the whole thing turns off. If the stakes are high enough, though, Riff might need a separate control or a safeguarded control. We can’t say because we don’t know what this actually does.

Put your hump into it, Riff!

After stepping up the reactor power three… more… points, Riff Raff kneels down to a handwheel, which he cranks clockwise to lower a ceiling-mounted apparatus from high in a cupola to just above the vat.

Screenshot from the movie: Riff Raff turning the handwheel while smiling creepily and looking toward the vat.

This is mechanical, which puts constraints on usability changes. Certainly that grip could be made wider and the axis could be raised to some more ergonomic position. (Or, given what we see on screen, it could be steam-powered and activated by a valve.) But note that, as it is, narratively, this does some things.

  1. It adds to the weight of the scene via the effort heuristic.
  2. It signals that Riff Raff is a servant, having to do difficult manual labor in a humbling position amid steam; which increases the surprise of his later mutiny. (And presages the awesome steam conversation scene in Alien four years later.)

The rainbow soup

The apparatus Riff lowers houses seven colored cylinders of matching-colored, viscous fluid. When they come within reach, Frank-N-Furter turns valves at the bottom of each one to allow the fluids to pour into the vat, turning its contents into a layered, upside-down rainbow.

Manual valves are a fine interface, since it appears precision is not required. This step is more improvisational art than science, it seems.

Aside: Watching this scene carefully I notice that even though the colored fluids are in an inexplicable order in the interface: yellow blue red purple orange blue green (no, I have no idea why there are two blues, maybe one was supposed to be indigo?), Curry takes pains to open them in rainbow order: red orange yellow green blue blue purple. Note this was *not* a reference to the rainbow flag, which goes in the opposite display order and which Gilbert Baker wouldn’t invent until three years after this film was released. It was Curry (or someone on set) paying attention to real-world light spectra.

Anyway, after enough of the fluid has been dropped to create a layered rainbow effect in the vat, Frank-N-Furter frantically closes the valves. (If you’re wondering, editing makes it difficult to tell in what order he closes the valves, but it seems random.) After a beat, Riff Raff cranks the handwheel counterclockwise to lift Rocky—who is gripping the ceiling-mounted apparatus—out of the vat. The rest of the procedure is analog and does not involve technological interfaces, but does involve a musical number in which Rocky is unwrapped like a reverse mummy, while singing.

Screenshot from the movie showing Frank on Riff Raff’s shoulders, gaping in awe at his creation Rocky, as Rocky is being unwrapped and exposing his physique. Dripping blood typography reads “SHA LA LA LA THAT AIN’T NO CRIME”.

That’s it. That’s how Rocky is brought to life. And, now I am happy to declare…

This is the best series of interfaces in the movie

Not for its usability. It’s fairly wretched for that (see lengthy notes above). But…

Diegetically, the unusability is a feature. First, by contributing to the perception to the conventioneers that big, dramatic science is happening before their eyes. It’s impressive theatrics. I think it could go even farther in seeming usable while still maintaining inscrutable complexity, but this does the trick for Transylvanians. Second, it builds on guild mentality. That is, the inscrutability helps deter others from thinking they could easily do it themselves. It’s a kind of job security through obscurity.

Extradiegetically, because the film is partly meant to mock B-movie sci-fi, the fact that they are…

  • poorly designed
  • pseudoscientific at best,
  • cinegenic, and
  • histrionic;

…they are perfect.

No notes.

I mean, 1800-ish words of notes.

But you know, “no notes.”

As if all this drama wasn’t enough. In the next post it’s going to get turned up to 11. Triple Contact Electro Magnet

Star Trek: Section 31 — The Godsend

As part of the Fritzes Best Interfaces award for 2026, I am reviewing the interfaces in Star Trek: Section 31. This post is about the quadrant-destroying weapon of mass destruction called the Godsend. Note this blog generally eschews analysis of weapons, but this one is more MacGuffin than blueprint, and it has the worst interface in the film.

Title card for 'Coded Transmission 2: The Godsend' featuring dynamic background effects.

The Godsend is a weapon that Georgiou had created when she was Emperor. It is meant to function as a scorched-earth deterrent to her enemies.

“It triggers a chain reaction, like a virus passing between planets. Everything in its path incinerates. An entire quadrant would be lost.”

To her credit, she says she ordered it destroyed, but it was secretly stored by San and later brought to Prime. It is a metal object, roughly a sphere, and slightly smaller than a human head. Around its “equator” it has a smooth belt punctuated by 10 mistily-glowing circles. The hemispheres outside this belt are faceted. There are lots of flat nurnies and greebles on the surface with no obvious purpose. They’re not even aposematic, which would be appropriate.

A metallic spherical device with intricate patterns and glowing elements, resting on a smooth surface.

When Georgiou and Sahar teleport to San’s ship, combat ensues, and in the fray San accidentally knocks the Godsend off its pedestal. It hits the floor and malfunctions, exhibiting a complex set of behaviors I’ll just call the “tick”:

  • We hear a mechanical clockwork ticking.
  • The belt rotates a few degrees clockwise (as seen from the north pole).
  • The upper hemisphere rotates a few degrees counter-clockwise.
  • One of the white circles turns pinkish-red.

(I know that north and south are arbitrary conventions here, but it helps with the description.) After the tick is complete, its computer voice says, “Detonation sequence activating”. The voice is low, raspy, and appropriately menacing.

A metallic spherical object featuring intricate geometric designs and illuminated colored orbs, placed on a surface.

After a beat, it ticks again. A second circle turns red, and the voice says, “Awaiting biosignature confirmation”. Amidst the ongoing fighting and ship careening, the Godsend gets kicked around a lot and, at intervals, continues to tick.

San and Fuzz are defeated, and as the ship nears the portal, Georgiou picks the Godsend up off the floor. It ticks again. She places her hand on the “north pole” for about two seconds.

A hand gripping a futuristic, spherical device with intricate designs and glowing elements, set against a blurred background of lights.

The remaining white circles turn red, and the voice says, “Biosignature confirmed…Detonation in 60 seconds.” It announces again at the 30 second mark and continues to rotate at intervals. The voice warning comes again at 10, and then each second from 5 to 1. At zero there is a blinding light as it explodes just inside the portal on the Mirror Universe side as Georgiou and Sahar beam back to safety on the scow.

OK. So this thing…

It’s almost purely narrative

…this thing is diegetic nonsense.

A futuristic black sphere with a geometric design rolling on a shiny surface, illuminated by warm lighting.
Thank you for turning me on.

It arms accidentally? From being dropped on the floor? That can’t be its intended operation, so, a quadrant-destroying weapon of mass destruction was just, you know, poorly engineered? No one thought that this heavy, spheroid, metallic object might ever slip out of a hand? Or was it sabotaged like the Death Star, adding this flaw somewhere along the engineering process? Let’s hope that saboteur also immediately fled the quadrant afterward, taking along…I don’t know…every single one of their loved ones with them, along with all the innocents who might get incinerated in the blast? What size getaway ship were they working with?

Next, why is there a countdown for a detonation sequence that still requires authorization? What would happen if the detonation sequence completed without being authorized?

  • If nothing, then the countdown is just a goofy, extradiegetic tension-building function.
  • If something, shouldn’t the voice alert the user to those stakes?

Why is the countdown visualizer spread in a ring around a sphere? That makes it entirely possible that those critical signals are hidden from view for about half the time they are relevant. And they’re inset, meaning that even when looking at the facing side, at most three of them are clear. We will just see slivers of the other two. The design hides most of the visual part of the countdown from view.

A futuristic, intricately designed robotic device with a geometric shape and illuminated features, set against a dark, red-toned background.
Either the countdown isn’t underway here, or it’s halfway through. Who knows?

The choice of authorization (two-second hand on the pole) is easily understandable by the audience, but seems really, really prone to accidental activation. The pole is how one might, you know, carry it, or hold the damned thing while dusting the shelf underneath it.

A close-up of a person holding a glowing, ornate metallic artifact with red elements, set against a dark background.

One of the key principles for deterrents (we got “good” at this during the Cold War) is automaticity. If the one person who can trigger it can be killed before they activate the deterrent, then it’s just a tactical exercise: separate the authorizer from the device, or assassinate them quickly before they can activate it. If it’s biometric, tactics can be just making sure that body part is destroyed first. Both of these interventions are possible given the design of the Godsend. Really it should have a dead man’s switch, not an activation trigger.

If it was left as an activation trigger, the biosignature long-hold is the moment that a countdown is relevant. It would give the carrier a beat to think, “Oh, gods, no. I was just cleaning!” and reposition their hand for safety before going to change pants. The moment her hand is in place, the device should then signal a countdown in a way that it is undeniably perceptible to Georgiou—no matter in what orientation she is holding it. And it shouldn’t just be visual with intermittent audio, as we hear in the film. The audio should be constant, visuals should be on every side of the device, it should provide rising haptic feedback, and reach out to all nearby computer-controlled actuators to have them broadcast that everything’s about to be borked, send a last 🩷 SMS to your loved ones. Having it announce that it’s going to blow after a silent long-hold is very, very bad design. We can argue security through obscurity here, but the cost of accidental activation is far too catastrophic.

Maybe the thing that’s been keeping the Prime Universe safe all along from the fascists in the Mirror Universe is that they’re terrible designers and rotten engineers. It is a testament to how much I like the other interfaces that this one didn’t drag the rest of them down with it, because it’s just an immersion-breaking misery.

Next up: The Section 31 report card

Star Trek: Section 31 – Phase Pod

When Georgiou escorts Noe into his hotel room, she activates and tosses a device onto the container he’s carrying. It’s a palm-sized, metallic saucer-dome shape with intricate detailing, and sports three rounded signal lights that glow white. It magnetically grips to the surface of Noe’s container. He cautiously asks what it is and she pulls out another one to show him, explaining it is a “phase pod”. She attaches hers to her belt, and a beat later its white lights turn green. Her appearance becomes blurry and shifting and there is an audible low purr. A beat later the lights on the pod attached to the container turn green, and it gains that phasing appearance as it slips from his hand to land with a thud on the floor. He tries to shoot her with a phaser, and the blast passes through her to hit the wall behind. He tries to hit her physically and passes through. When San enters through the wall a little later, we see a similar pod attached to his belt and the phase-fight begins.

There’s a moment where Georgiou pulls her phase pod off to render herself immune to the knife he’s slicing at her while phased. San pulls his off to reengage her in unphased-space. A beat later we see them crash through the glass window separating the room from the nightclub floor.

A woman with a bald head and elegant attire reacts with surprise as water splashes around her, with a blurred background of illuminated decor.

When the fight takes them both onto a raised dias, Georgiou taps her pod to turn it on again. We see its lights and the lights on the case pod instantly turn green. She’s phased. San turns his on again, too, and the fight continues. About midway through the fight, San stabs her pod. He doesn’t quite disable it, but it starts to malfunction, its status lights flickering between green and white.

San drops the case and kicks it through a wall. Georgiou tries to run through the wall to retrieve it, but the malfunctioning pod fails to phase her left shoe. It “catches” and won’t pull through the wall. The status lights of the pod flicker green and red. In frustration, Georgiou smashes the device a few times to no avail.

Caught, she watches as San appears, opens the case, removes the Godsend, and teleports away. Too late, the pod sorts its shit out, and Georgiou is able to pull her foot through and stand up to be confronted by Sahar.

Caveat: Some things are unexplained, here

It’s not clear how the floor holds a phased thing, while the walls do not. Maybe it’s some aspect of the artificial gravity? It’s also not clear why Baraam doesn’t have the equivalent of a red alert when the fight starts, which would prevent San’s beaming away. Most casinos have outrageous levels of security and Georgiou is paranoid, so one would expect it. These are script questions, admittedly, not related to the interfaces, but things that the skeptic in me must voice.

One production gotcha

Before they reach the dias (below) we can see an unphased Georgiou holding the case. Its signal lights are green, but since she’s holding it, it must be unphased, too, which breaks one of the two diegetric rules already established.

  1. Green means Thing is Phased.
  2. Phased and non-phased things do not interact.

Rather than trying to backworld this (which would get complicated fast) I’m going to presume this is just a production mistake.

Evaluation as a wearable

On this blog I’ve established some guidelines for what makes a good wearable. I’ve used those to evaluate this interface.

Sartorial? Yes.

Yep. Palm-sized, one flat side, other side rounded. Lovely textures and shape. All fit being worn.

Easy to access and use: Tap to activate

I wonder about accidental activation. The fight has a lot of bumping around. If it’s a dumb momentary button, capacitance sensor, or accelerometer, some accident of the fight might accidentally turn it on or off, so let’s presume it’s not that. If it’s a biometric signature requiring the authorized user to tap it, it still seems riskily “out there”, ripe for an accidental touch that could have the wearer slamming into a wall they thought was passible, or dephasing in the middle of something. A long-touch, as seen with the mission briefer, might make more sense. Long-touch trades discoverability (how is anyone supposed to know to long-touch a thing) for increased certainty (accidental long-touches are less likely than accidental brushes.)

A long-touch introduces some challenges mid-fight, but I suspect this is primarily meant as an infiltration tool, not a combat one.

Social and Apposite I/O: The glow is almost fine

You might think that having the glow there gives too much away, diegetically. It would draw the attention of onlookers and raise suspicions if not alarms. Generally speaking, a covert wearable announcing itself brightly runs counter to its purpose. But the visual and audio effects of the underlying tech are far more conspicuous, and I presume, unavoidable. So subtlety is not an option using this tech. And the signal lights help convey to the user the states we see.

StatusDisplay
OffDark
ReadyWhite
ActiveGreen
DamagedGreen and white
ErrorGreen and red

That’s quite useful, even if they require a glance down. There’s an additional status which is “these two pods are paired” which might be accomplished with a synchronized blink, but that might also give too much information away to assailants.

As we see in the film, one problem is when phase-ees want to kick other phase-ees out of phase-space. Then the light on the surface provides a helpful signal of exactly where to target. Let’s trust that the jerky visual effects we see from our non-phased vantage point are still in effect when phasing, so that little target’s going to be jumping around anyway. Also, as long as all pods have the same lights, it’s not granting an advantage to anyone in particular. Georgiou could just as easily targeted San’s pod.

A dynamic scene featuring a person in dark clothing engaged in action, with blurred figures in metallic costumes and a crowd of colorful outfits in the background.

Haptics, probably

The use case of most concern for me is when the pod is malfunctioning. It looks like the tech prioritizes its effects for living matter, so bodies don’t unphase inside of solid matter. That would make for graceful degrading that could inform the user that the tech is trending in an unsafe direction. “Hey, why is my scarf stuck. Oh crap!”

We can’t rely on the phasing side-effects, because those seemed to continue as usual even during the half-functioning. Whatever that signal is shouldn’t rely on her looking at the device, either. A haptic feedback seems most fit, and specifically where it vibrates when the device is working, pulses when it is half-working, and buzzes or goes still when it is not working at all. Since film generally does not convey haptic feedback well, it might actually be part of the device we see. That would explain why Georgiou was willing to risk passing through the wall. The stakes were high, and she could tell, without looking, there was a good chance she would make it.


Between the tap that should be a long-tap, the lights that clearly signal mode, and the haptics that we’re going to presume are there anyway, the phase pod makes for a plausible wearable that meets basic usability and story needs, too.

Next up: The interfaces for that murderous rascal, Fuzz

Fritzes 2026 bonus award: Best Assistant(s)

The Fritzes award honors the best interfaces in a full-length motion picture in the past year. Interfaces play a special role in our movie-going experience, and are a craft all their own that does not otherwise receive focused recognition. Best Assistant is a special award that I’m giving for the first time.

Ok but why now? Well, in March of this year I published a new non-fiction book about the design of technology that assists people doing things (as opposed to doing stuff for them). It’s called Designing Assistant Technology: AI That Makes People Smarter. In the book I lay out a framework for categorizing assistant interactions, and describe the risks and mitigations of having an assistant in the mix. I daresay it’s not only valuable for design, but for scriptwriters and futurists as well. If that intrigues you, look for a discount code near the end of this article.

Anyway, it gave me the idea to select the movie with the best examples of Assistants.

The 2026 Award for Best Assistants: M3gan 2.0

I know, I’m as surprised as you are.

The first movie, while smarter than I expected, seemed to be a horror flick that was using AI as set dressing. It did get a shout-out in the Fritzes 2024 for best HUD, but as I recall, its unbounded atomic optimization was just another way to frame it as a ruthless, efficient killer. But this second one seems to take the theme more seriously, and the scriptwriters did their homework.

A colorful diagram featuring a red loop labeled with the words 'think', 'reflect', 'do', 'see', 'perceive', 'plan', and 'know', alongside a blue mountain icon, representing a cyclical process of action and reflection.

In Part II of the book, I build on the see-think-do loop (that is core to interaction design) to identify the Five Universal Assists. These are the universal, exhaustive set of categories by which technology can assist users: Perceive, Know, Plan, Perform, and Reflect. And to my surprise, when you look close, there are examples of all five of the universal assists in M3gan 2.0, more than any other film in 2025.

Note: M3gan jumps bodies many times over the course of the movie, so you’ll see her described many times with the same name, but with vastly different appearances in the screen shots. 

Perceive

In this assist, the tech helps users perceive signal amidst noise.

Early in the film, Cady discovers that the source code of Better Bionix is being hacked. When everyone comes over to see what’s on her screen, Tess says, “Oh, Jesus. She’s right. There’s stray commands all over the source code.” The screen we see doesn’t ask them (or us) to try and detect which out of the dozens on screen are suspect. Those lines are colored red to contrast greatly with the screen-green, and in case you were colorblind, they’re indented as well. 

A close-up view of a person's head and shoulders in front of a computer monitor displaying code and technical diagrams, suggesting a programming or technical task.

You might think that that M3gan’s alerting Gemma of the FBI home invasion to be an example of perceive, but she was sleeping when the alert comes. In that context, M3gan’s acting more as an agent. (More on that below.)

In act 2, Gemma asks M3gan to increase audio of two conversants at a noisy party, and that might as well be a canonical example. (And the first time she does it, M3gan substitutes audio in a very snarky way, reminding the audience that in a super-AI-mediated world, you cannot implicitly trust the media it controls, reminding us about over-reliance, another theme from Part III of the book.)

A group of professionals engaged in a serious discussion, with visual graphics overlay indicating audio enhancement and data analysis.

Know

In this assist, the tech helps users understand the meaning of what they’ve perceived, either in shallow ways such as names and categories, or very deeply.

HUDs have this built into the trope, and there are plenty of HUDs throughout.

But also, when beginning their joint hunt for AMELIA, M3gan explains that every battery Altwave (the villain corporation in the film) makes has a remote-controllable kill switch, explaining the meaning of what Gemma sees in the file.

When infiltrating Altwave, M3gan(toy) explains why AMELIA is there as well: She seeks to control Altwave’s cloud servers, which are half of North America. That control enables AMELIA to disable the economy, threatening “societal collapse in 10 to 12 working days”. 

A high-tech computer screen displaying a map of the United States with data points connected by lines, overlaid with programming code.

Plan

In this assist, it helps users plan their course of action, tactically or strategically.

When M3gan comes out of hiding and presents a deal to Gemma, she explains that she’s run a thousand simulations and if they don’t team up, more people die than if they didn’t. M3gan asks, “Who is the real killer in that situation?” Not having much of a choice, Gemma agrees.

A woman with long hair and a bow tie stands in front of a textured brick wall, featuring a ghostly or ethereal effect.

A key part of the planning assist is helping users know what the best course of action is.

Perform

In this assist, the tech helps users perform some task.

One of the first scenes in the film has Tess and Cole demonstrating an exosuit. In their pitch they explain to the potential investor that its purpose is to help laborers avoid fatigue while performing physical tasks. To demonstrate, Cole lifts huge concrete blocks without showing any signs of exertion.

A few beats later, slimy Elon-Musk stand-in demonstrates how his neural chip helps him stand though he is ordinarily bound to his wheelchair.

In the climax, M3gan stows away on a neural chip forcibly implanted on Gemma. When Gemma dons an exosuit the AI helps her defeat many goons in hand to hand combat. It’s arguably acting as an agent here, since Gemma isn’t trying to build those skills. (Similarly when Gemma gets knocked unconscious, M3gan controls the exosuit to animate her body anyway, something we also see in Section 31, but more on this example in a later post.)

Reflect

In this assist—the most abstract of them—the technology helps users reflect on things to turn experience into knowledge, or to question their goals and future tactics.

There’s a lot less of this here, just like there is in the real world. But, we see some of it.When Cady asks M3gan(half-formed) how she can feel anything, M3gan replies, “Can you explain why you feel things?” It’s rhetorical in context, but exactly the sort of thing that a reflection assistant might ask. 

A close-up of a vintage robotic figure with expressive features and tangled wires, set against a dark, atmospheric background.

When Gemma is spiraling about her parenting in the basement, M3gan(souped up) takes a moment to share counterexamples. “I saw you wake up every day at 4:00 A.M., staring at the ceiling contemplating what the future holds for her…I watched you make homemade lunches with fresh-baked sourdough…I watched you help her with her homework, even though it always ended in a fight…Gemma, it’s not a failure to feel guilt or that you’re not enough. It’s part of the job.” It’s not the best fit for the definition of this assist I give in the book, but it’s the closest thing in the movie and the closest thing in my survey of the year’s films.

A humanoid robot with long hair and large, expressive eyes sitting next to a woman in a dark environment. The robot's outfit has a shiny, futuristic design, and a computer screen with data is visible in the background.

Also agents

There are also many examples where M3gan(AI) acts as an agent on their behalf, but that was my last book, so I’ll skip getting into those examples. But as you watch the movie, keep an eye out for additional shouts out to the paperclip thought experiment (a metaphor for the threat of instrumental convergence), allusions to the Xerox WorkCentre scanner bug, and of course super AI as an existential threat. The whole plot can be seen as an example of Bostrom’s a priori argument that multiple super AIs are the most stable scenario. All this is why I say that the writers seemed to have done their homework..

I’m a lot less fond about the guy wanting to regulate/eliminate AI is painted the bad guy, but having positioned M3gan as sentient and the antihero of the film, I’m not sure what else they could do. But I wish it didn’t valorize AI as equivalent to humans despite all of that. We have enough LeMoinian panic about large language models as it is.


Anyway, congratulations to M3gan 2.0 for showing so many examples of assistants throughout. If you’re interested in getting the book, you can get 20% off if you purchase from Rosenfeldmedia.com and use the code “scifi26” during checkout. Use this power only for good.

And let me know in comments if you think of other examples of assistants across the year.

IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt26342662/Currently streaming on:

Next up: A Big Screen Label Roundup

Fritzes 2026 bonus award: Best Robots

The Fritzes award honors the best interfaces in a full-length motion picture in the past year. Interfaces play a special role in our movie-going experience, and are a craft all their own that does not otherwise receive focused recognition.

The 2026 Award for Best Robots: The Electric State

The Fritzes has been tracking robots in cinema for a few years now. My favorite from 2025 is The Electric State. The film is a Netflix film adaptation of Simon Stålenhag’s luscious illustrated novel of the same name. And some of the robots we see in the film are directly lifted from his illustrations. So this award partly goes to you, Simon. 

A futuristic landscape featuring a massive, rusted robot sculpture in an urban setting, with two figures standing in front of it. Cars are parked nearby under a bridge, with mountains visible in the background and a clear sky above.
A whimsical landscape featuring a large, rusty robot figure lying in a desert setting, surrounded by sparse vegetation and mountains in the background under a blue sky.

But in the movie they are animated and voiced, and there are new ones as well, so it is its own thing. It has Chris Pratt, who is problematic for offscreen reasons, and the script can be somewhat tropey, but the film has nifty world building. In the diegesis, sentient robots are seen as enemies of the state and excommunicated to form their own outcast cities. The design of the robots betray their capitalist origins. Mascots and advertisements. Job-tailored bots. They are quirky and charming and all sizes, and help critique a system that fully deserves it.

A futuristic desert scene featuring various robotic characters and a dilapidated building with the sign 'SEARS'. Numerous robots are depicted interacting and exploring the area, amidst rocky cliffs in the background.

Also check out: Superman!

 James Gunn’s first D.C. movie brought Superman to life and added some things to its lore, such as: Kal-El has four service robots that support him in his Fortress of Solitude. They’re just called Superman Robots at first. Their chest plates identify them by number: 1, 4, 5, and 12. They’re on the far side of the canny rise, one-eyed and very much robotic, with charming banter. At the end of the movie, after it is rebuilt, number four dons a cape and chooses a name, and that name is Gary. Gary’s just a mensch “with no emotional capacity whatsoever”. (And that frankness is why I like Gary.)

Also check out: M3gan 2.0!

One of the smart things the M3gan franchise uses in their diegesis is that AI and robotic housings are not tightly bound. AI can slip out of a housing, replicate itself, find new embodiments on the network, manage multiple embodiments, coordinate disparate housings, etc. Over the course of the movie, we see M3gan and her nemesis AMELIA in many kinds of robot bodies in many states of development. My favorite is the cute little toy that Gemma puts M3gan while she was figuring out if the AI could be trusted.

A small, friendly-looking robot with a teal body and large expressive eyes, standing on a cluttered workspace.

This decoupling is an important difference in AI capabilities that don’t jive with our anthropocentric models. Humans and animals can’t do that, so it’s something that bears literacy.

Shout out to the Act III robot design for AMELIA that references Hajime Sorayama’s illustrations from the 80s and 90s, because reference!

Also check out: Section 31!

Near the end of the film, Garrett finds a Droom doll in the hold of a garbage scow they’ve commandeered. The doll has sensors to detect its context, and actuators to move the arms, head, and mouth. Its three eyes can illuminate. It has speech generation and, as we discover, general reasoning capabilities. When Garrett first finds it, it says, “Hi there! I’m so glad you found me!” It suggests play time with, “Shall we do something fun together?” and spins its head around, whipping its indigo-colored hair in circles.

Garrett pours acid on its volatile power source to turn it into a bomb, and it begins to malfunction, uttering child-friendly things like “We can be friends forever” and dark things, like, “We’re all gonna die! We’re all gonna die!” It is released from the ship to explode in space and destroy another ship that is chasing it.

The conclusion that “we’re all gonna die” is immediately true in the diegesis, not just the morbid, general version of that same truth. But making this conclusion depends not just on context, but general causal reasoning. My decaying battery is going to explode and destroy everything and everyone around it, so I’m going to shout that fact. Note it does not actually issue a warning for the owner to flee, which it should do, but we can chalk that up to malfunction. It hints that the Droom are a species with vast technological resources but troublingly weak risk assessment. All from a tiny little robot with mere seconds of screen time.

Next up: The best assistants of 2025

Fritzes 2026: Best Narrative

The Fritzes award honors the best interfaces in a full-length motion picture in the past year. Interfaces play a special role in our movie-going experience, and are a craft all their own that does not otherwise receive focused recognition.

Today we’ll be covering Best Narrative. These movies’ interfaces blow us away with evocative visuals and the richness of their future vision. They engross us in the story world by being spectacular.

The 2026 Award goes to: Elio

Pixar consistently puts great thought into their animated interfaces, and Elio is no different. The little wearable personal devices that help the different intergalactic species all share a space are so simple, and provide both a bit of worldbuilding as well as moments of comedy. The incomprehensibility of the alien spaceship controls are a plot-critical, candy-colored glowing hoot (and reminiscent of another Pixar short, Lifted.) I loved the lemniscate-shaped AI encyclopedia that Elio consults when preparing for his negotiations. We should be able to talk to Wikipedia and not just its articles. (Though I wish the entries were more than just text and an image.) Also this film has the only example I’ve seen where one character acts as an environmental suit for another character (not pictured, but you know the scene).

Also check out: Mickey 17

It’s a dark world where the hoarding class has made the working class so desperate that some people have to agree to be cloned for critical tasks that are likely death sentences. The interfaces in Mickey 17 help sell that very world, and even the ways that some folks use that same tech to eke out a little naughty joy amongst the drudgery. (With echoes of a similarly flirty interface from Starship Troopers.)

Also check out: Fantastic Four: First Steps

Marvel was once a main-stay for interfaces to study, but they’ve pointed their camera increasingly away from interfaces of late. So I was delighted to see Fantastic Four: First Steps bring to life interfaces from Jack Kirby’s Silver Age Fantastic Four. I don’t know if it was CGI, but I swear the giant, spherical quadrilateral screens are actual giant CRTs right down to the blurriness and chromatic aberration. If that’s CGI, it’s great attention to the detail from the reference material. All the spherical displays!

The “big” award in the Fritzes is Best Interface, but to amp up the anticipation, let’s look at some of the idiosyncratic awards from 2025 first.

Next up: The best comedy-horror interface

Fritzes 2026 Best Believable

The Fritzes award honors the best interfaces in a full-length motion picture in the past year. Interfaces play a special role in our movie-going experience, and are a craft all their own that does not otherwise receive focused recognition.

Today we’ll be covering Best Believable. These movies’ interfaces adhere to solid computer-human-interaction principles and believable interactions. They engage us in the story world by being convincing.

The 2026 Award goes to: The Running Man

This second adaptation of Stephen King’s novel knocks it out of the park for the plot-central interfaces: The runner cuff and R-Cam box, the hideous sousveillance phone app for “fans”, the service design of the “free-v” show, and the in-home snitch interfaces. They lean towards narrative (missing a few things real-world counterparts would need), but all help articulate this dystopian world and the circumstances that drive the action. Moreover, I feel quite certain not making good real-world models of these horrible things is the right thing to do, especially given *gestures vaguely at the kakistocracy*.

On top of that it also has lots of awesome everyday interfaces, and it takes a level of commitment on the part of the filmmakers to go that deep in the worldbuilding. There’s a videophone interface with shades of Blade Runner. There’s a mailbox that signals its readiness and lifts off immediately after receiving a letter. (Though I would have flipped those red and green colors, so red meant “don’t put mail in here” and green meant “ready to receive”, but my invitation was lost in the mail.) The fare interfaces in the taxi. The self-driving interface of the citizen car. The piloting interfaces aboard the network plane. It’s all uncluttered, straightforward, and believable. Really well done, really well presented, and that’s hard to do in intense-action movies.

Also check out: War of the Worlds (2025) 

It got universally panned. Fair enough, neither ubiquitous government surveillance nor the current DHS bears valorization. (Also the virus-but-its-digital twist was already done), but I am impressed that this take on the classic Wells story is told almost entirely through interfaces, and each of them is detailed and mostly-realistic. The editing around the interface can be dizzying, and I wondered why William Radford had to do so much digital hunting at the beginning when an assistant should have been guiding his attention. But it’s impressive to bring that tale to life mostly through this unsung medium.

Also check out: Companion

With soft echoes of the interfaces in Westworld (2016), the interfaces in Companion control android and gynoid companions. (Yes, that term is deliberately coy.) They are clean and simple, which underscores the robots’ horror that they are under that much control by their owners.

My hackles are raised from “Intelligence” being a single slider. Intelligence is much more complicated than that, and this notion that it’s a single scalar variable has done a lot of damage over time. Even if they’d had a little expando control, it would have pointed at the idea that we’re looking at a simplification. Also I wish they’d provided a live preview of the eye color, because even with its intended use—of an owner controlling their companion’s eye color—this control has them glancing up to see the effect and then back down again to adjust, which is not a satisfying feedback loop. I use this very control as an example of a “plan” assistant in my new book. Hey, all of Hollywood: Buy it!

Next up: The Best Narrative interfaces from 2025

Comparing Sci-Fi HUDs in 2024 Movies

As in previous years, in preparation for awarding the Fritzes, I watched as many sci-fi movies as I could find across 2024. One thing that stuck out to me was the number of heads-up displays (HUDs) across these movies. There were a lot to them. So in advance of the awards, lets look and compare these. (Note the movies included here are not necessarily nominees for a Fritz award.)

I usually introduce the plot of every movie before I talk about it. This provides some context to understanding the interface. However, that will happen in the final Fritzes post. I’m going to skip that here. Still, it’s only fair to say there will be some spoilers as I describe these.

If you read Chapter 8 of Make It So: Interaction Lessons from Science Fiction, you’ll recall that I’d identified four categories of augmentation.

  1. Sensor displays
  2. Location awareness
  3. Context awareness (objects, people)
  4. Goal awareness

These four categories are presented in increasing level of sophistication. Let’s use these to investigate and compare five primary examples from 2024, in order of their functional sophistication.

Dune 2

Lady Margot Fenring looks through augmented opera glasses at Feyd-Rautha in the arena. Dune 2 (2024).

True to the minimalism that permeates much of the interfaces film, the AR of this device has a rounded-rectangle frame from which hangs a measure of angular degrees to the right. There are a few ticks across the center of this screen (not visible in this particular screen shot). There is a row of blue characters across the bottom center. I can’t read Harkonnen, and though the characters change, I can’t quite decipher what most of them mean. But it does seem the leftmost character indicates azimuth and the rightmost character angular altitude of the glasses. Given the authoritarian nature of this House, it would make sense to have some augmentation naming the royal figures in view, but I think it’s a sensor display, which leaves the user with a lot of work to figure out how to use that information.

You might think this indicates some failing of the writer’s or FUI designers’ imagination. However, an important part of the history of Dune is a catastrophic conflict known as the Butlerian Jihad. This conflict involved devastating, large-scale wars against intelligent machines. As a result, machines with any degree of intelligence are considered sacrilege. So it’s not an oversight, but as a result, we can’t look to this as a model for how we might handle more sophisticated augmentations.

Alien: Romulus

Tyler teaches Rain how to operate a weapon aboard the Renaissance. Alien: Romulus (2024)

A little past halfway through the movie, the protagonists finally get their hands on some weapons. In a fan-service scene similar to one between Ripley and Hicks from Aliens (1986), Tyler shows Rain how to hold an FAA44 pulse rifle. He also teaches her how to operate it. The “AA” stands for “aiming assist”, a kind of object awareness. (Tyler asserts this is what the colonial marines used, which kind of retroactively saps their badassery, but let’s move on.) Tyler taps a small display on the user-facing rear sight, and a white-on-red display illuminates. It shows a low-res video of motion happening before it. A square reticle with crosshairs shows where the weapon will hit. A label at the top indicates distance. A radar sweep at the bottom indicates movement in 360° plan view, a sensor display.

When Rain pulls the trigger halfway, the weapon quickly swings to aim at the target. There is no indication of how it would differentiate between multiple targets. It’s also unclear how Rain told it that the object in the crosshairs earlier is what she wants it to track now. Or how she might identify a friendly to avoid. Red is a smart choice for low-light situations as red is known to not interfere with night vision. Also it’s elegantly free of flourishes and fuigetry.

I’m not sure the halfway-trigger is the right activation mechanism. Yes, it allows the shooter to maintain a proper hold and remain ready with the weapon, and allows them not have to look at the display to gain its assistance, but also requires them to be in a calm, stable circumstance that allows for fine motor control. Does this mean that in very urgent, chaotic situations, users are just left to their own devices? Seems questionable.

Alien: Romulus is beholden to the handful of movies in the franchise that preceded it. Part of the challenge for its designers is to stay recognizably a part of the body of work that was established in 1979 while offering us something new. This weapon HUD stays visually simple, like the interfaces from the original two movies. It narratively explains how a civilian colonist with no weapons training can successfully defend herself against a full-frontal assault by a dozen of this universe’s most aggressive and effective killers. However, it leaves enough unexplained that it doesn’t really serve as a useful model.

The Wild Robot

Roz examines an abandoned egg she finds. The Wild Robot (2024)

HUD displays of artificially intelligent robots are always difficult to analyze. It’s hard to determine what’s an augmentation, here loosely defined as an overlay on some datastream created for a user’s benefit but explicitly not by that user. It opposes a visualization of the AI’s own thoughts as they are happening. I’d much rather analyze these as augmentation provided for Roz, but it just doesn’t hold up to scrutiny that way. What we see in this film are visualizations of Roz’ thoughts.

In the HUD, there is an unchanging frame around the outside. Static cyan circuit lines extend to the edge. (In the main image above, the screen-green is an anomaly.) A sphere rotates in the upper left unconnected to anything. A hexagonal grid on the left has some hexes which illuminate and blink unconnected to anything. The grid moves unrelated to anything. These are fuigetry and neither conveys information nor provides utility.

Inside that frame, we see Roz’ visualized thinking across many scenes.

  • Locus of attention—Many times we see a reticle indicating where she’s focused, oftentimes with additional callout details written in robot-script.
  • “Customer” recognition—(pictured) Since it happens early in the film, you might think this is a goofy error. The potential customer she has recognized is a crab. But later in the film, Roz learns the language common to the animals of the island. All the animals display a human-like intelligence, so it’s completely within the realm of possibility that this blue little crustacean could be her customer. Though why that customer needed a volumetric wireframe augmentation is very unclear.
  • X-ray vision—While looking around for a customer, she happens upon an egg. The edge detection indicates her attention. Then she performs scans that reveal the growing chick inside and a vital signs display.
  • Damage report—After being attacked by a bear, Roz does an internal damage check and she notes the damage on screen.
  • Escape alert—(pictured) When a big wave approaches the shore on which she is standing, Roz estimates the height of the wave to be five time her height. Her panic expresses itself in a red tint around the outside edge.
  • Project management—Roz adopts Brightbill and undertakes the mission to mother him—specifically to teach him to eat, swim, and fly. As she successfully teaches him each of these things, she checks it off by updating one of three graphics that represent the topics.
  • Language acquisition—(pictured) Of all the AR in this movie, this scene frustrates me the most. There is a sequence in which Roz goes torpid to focus on learning the animal language. Her eyes are open the entire time she captures samples and analyzes them. The AR shows word bubbles associated with individual animal utterances. At first those bubbles are filled with cyan-colored robo-ese script. Over the course of processing a year’s worth of samples, individual characters are slowly replaced in the utterances with bold, green, Latin characters. This display kind of conveys the story beat of “she’s figuring out the language), but befits cryptography much more than acquisition of a new language.

If these were augmented reality, I’d have a lot of questions about why it wasn’t helping her more than it does. It might seem odd to think an AI might have another AI helping it, but humans have loads of systems that operate without explicit conscious thought, like preattentive processing, all the functions of our autonomic nervous system, sensory filtering, and recall, just to name a few. So I can imagine it would be a fine model for AI-supporting-AI.

Since it’s not augmented reality, it doesn’t really act as a model for real world designs except perhaps for its visual styling.

Borderlands

Claptrap is a little one-wheel robot that accompanies Lilith though her adventures on and around Pandora. We see things through his POV several times.

Claptrap sizes up Lilith from afar. Borderlands (2024).

When Claptrap first sees Lilith, it’s from his HUD. Like Roz’ POV display in The Wild Robot, the outside edge of this view has a fixed set of lines and greebles that don’t change, not even for a sensor display. I wish those lines had some relationship to his viewport, but that’s just a round lens and the lines are vaguely like the edges of a gear.

Scrolling up from the bottom left is an impressive set of textual data. It shows that a DNA match has been made (remotely‽ What kind of resolution is Claptrap’s CCD?) and some data about Lilith from what I presume is a criminal justice data feed: Name and brief physical description. It’s person awareness.

Below that are readouts for programmed directive and possible directive tasks. They’re funny if you know the character. Tasks include “Supply a never-ending stream of hilarious jokes and one-liners to lighten the mood in tense situations” and “Distract enemies during combat. Prepare the Claptrap dance of confusion!” I also really like the last one “Take the bullets while others focus on being heroic.” It both foreshadows a later scene and touches on the problem raised with Dr. Strange’s Cloak of Levitation: How do our assistants let us be heroes?

At the bottom is the label “HYPERION 09 U1.2” which I think might be location awareness? The suffix changes once they get near the vault. Hyperion a faction in the game. Not certain what it means in this context.

When driving in a chase sequence, his HUD gives him a warning about a column he should avoid. It’s not a great signal. It draws his attention but then essentially says “Good luck with that.” He has to figure out what object it refers to. (The motion tracking, admittedly, is a big clue.) But the label is not under the icon. It’s at the bottom left. If this were for a human, it would add a saccade to what needs to be a near-instantaneous feedback loop. Shouldn’t it be an outline or color overlay to make it wildly clear what and where the obstacle is? And maybe some augmentation on how to avoid it, like an arrow pointing right? As we see in a later scene (below) the HUD does have object detection and object highlighting. There it’s used to find a plot-critical clue. It’s just oddly not used here, you know, when the passengers’ lives are at risk.

When the group goes underground in search of the key to the Vault, Claptrap finds himself face to face with a gang of Psychos. The augmentation includes little animated red icons above the Psychos. Big Red Text summarizes “DANGER LEVEL: HIGH” across the middle, so you might think it’s demonstrating goal and context awareness. But Claptrap happens to be nigh-invulnerable, as we see moments later when he takes a thousand Psycho bullets without a scratch. In context, there’s no real danger. So,…holup. Who’s this interface for, then? Is it really aware of context?

When they visit Lilith’s childhood home, Claptrap finds a scrap of paper with a plot-critical drawing on it. The HUD shows a green outline around the paper. Text in the lower right tracks a “GARBAGE CATALOG” of objects in view with comments, “A PSYCHO WOULDN’T TOUCH THAT”, “LIFE-CHOICE QUESTIONING TRASH”, “VAULT HUNTER THROWBACK TRASH”. This interface gives a bit of comedy and leads to the Big Clue, but raises questions about consistency. It seems the HUDs in this film are narrativist.

In the movie, there are other HUDs like this one, for the Crimson Lance villains. They fly their hover-vehicles using them, but we don’t nearly get enough time to tease the parts apart.

Atlas

The HUD in Atlas happens when the titular character Atlas is strapped into an ARC9 mech suit, which has its own AGI named Smith. Some of the augmentations are communications between Smith and Atlas, but most are augmentations of the view before her. The viewport from the pilot’s seat is wide and the augmentations appear there.

Atlas asks Smith to display the user manuals. Atlas (2024)

On the way to evil android Harlan’s base, we see the frame of the HUD has azimuth and altitude indicators near the edge. There are a few functionless flourishes, like arcs at the left and right edges. Later we see object and person recognition (in this case, an android terrorist, Casca Decius). When Smith confirms they are hostile, the square reticles go from cyan to red, demonstrating context awareness.

Over the course of the movie Atlas has resisted Smith’s call to “sync” with him. At Harlan’s base, she is separated from the ARC9 unit for a while. But once she admits her past connection to Harlan, she and Smith become fully synched. She is reunited with the ARC9 unit and its features fully unlock.

As they tear through the base to stop the launch of some humanity-destroying warheads, they meet resistance from Harlan’s android army. This time the HUD wholly color codes the scene, making it extremely clear where the combatants are amongst the architecture.

Overlays indicate the highest priority combatants that, I suppose, might impede progress. A dashed arrow stretches through the scene indicating the route they must take to get to their goal. It focuses Atlas on their goal and obstacles, helping her decision-making around prioritization. It’s got rich goal awareness and works hard to proactively assist its user.

Despite being contrasting colors, they are well-controlled to not vibrate. You might think that the luminance of the combatants and architecture might be flipped, but the ARC9 is bulletproof, so there’s no real danger from the gunfire. (Contrast Claptrap’s fake danger warning, above.) Saving humanity is the higher priority. So the brightest (yellow) means “do this”, the second brightest (cyan) means “through this” and darkest (red) means “there will be some nuisances en route.” The luminescence is where it should be.

In the climactic fight with Harlan, the HUD even displays a predictive augmentation, illustrating where the fast-moving villain is likely to be when Atlas’ attacks land. This crucial augmentation helps her defeat the villain and save the day. I don’t think I’ve seen predictive augmentation outside of video games before.


If I was giving out an award for best HUD of 2024, Atlas would get it. It is the most fully-imagined HUD assistance across the year, and consistently, engagingly styled. If you are involved with modern design or the design of sci-fi interfaces, I highly recommend you check it out.

Stay tuned for the full Fritz awards, coming later this year.

You’re the only one who can stop him

Superhero shows are a weird subgenre of sci-fi. The super-powers and how the superheroes use them in pursuit of their world-saving goals are often the point, and so often skimp on the sci part of sci-fi. The Amazon original The Boys is no different, where the core novum is a chemical (compound V) that gives people superpowers.

I love the show. Though it’s definitely for adults with its violence and psychopathy and depravity, I think it’s closer to what would happen if humans had superhuman powers in a world of late-stage capitalism, enshittification of everything, and wannabe fascists. I’ve been a fan since it first aired. (And can’t wait to dive into the comics after the show wraps.)

Be forewarned—massive spoilers ahead. (The graphic shows the Millennium Falcon sporting a massive spoiler.)

It hasn’t really had many interfaces of note across the series. And the one I’m going to talk about in this post isn’t a “big” interface. But it was bad, so I’m coming out of my hiatus to talk about it, and then to make an appeal similar to what I did when I reviewed Idiocracy in 2019.


A screen shot from the scene with Grace leaning down to talk to Ryan while Butcher looks on in the background.

In the Season 4 finale—hastily renamed “Season 4 Finale” instead of “Assassination Run” after the alleged July 13 assassination attempt of Donald Trump—co-founders of The Boys, Grace Mallory and Butcher, invite the young supe Ryan to an underground bunker with three goals in mind.

  1. Give him some time with Butcher who, as a kind of stepfather to Ryan, wants to see him before he dies. (Butcher is dying from a “sentient tumor” that developed from his overuse of “Temp V”.)
  2. Convince Ryan to turn against his father, Homelander.
  3. Entrap Ryan if he refuses.

It’s this last goal that involves the interface, because sure enough, Ryan is highly conflicted at the idea of killing his father after Butcher explains “You’re the only one who can stop him.”

“You’re the only one who can stop him.” —Butcher

As Ryan tries to leave to think things through, Grace blocks his way, saying “You can’t leave.” Ryan uses his super vision to observe that the walls of the room they’re in are 6 feet thick. Grace tries to explain, “This is the CIA Hazlet Safehouse, designed to hold people like you. I could seal us in here, flood the room with halothene, and we’d all take a nice, long nap.” As Ryan gets more agitated and threatens to leave anyway, she reaches out to a big, red momentary button mounted to the concrete wall beside her, presumably to release the aerosolized anesthesia.

A screen shot from the scene showing Grace’s hand on the junction box on which the big button sits, her index finger reaching up towards it.
Let’s get this party started.

And that’s it. That’s the interface. Because in a show that is very compellingly written, this is bad design.

It’s obvious

Being a big, red panic button, it might as well have a spotlight on it and a neon sign blinking “Press here to suppress.” Any supe worth their salt will recognize it as a threat and seek to disable it. I trust it would have a Normally Closed circuit, so that ripping the button out of the wall or severing the conduit would trip it, but a supe with Ryan or Homelander’s x-ray vision could just follow the circuit back to discover the nature of the halothane system and work from there. Much better is a system that wouldn’t call attention to itself.

It’s hard to get to

It’s hard to tell the complete room layout from the scene. It looks half hospital recovery room, half storage room, and I suspect is a converted supe prison cell (with windows, though?) The button appears to be just inside…the bathroom? Out of sight of the main part of the room, sure, so kind of hidden unless the supe needs to ever pee, but also harder to get to. A single button at around elbow-height works when a near-average-height person is upright and able to reach out to press it. But if you’ve just been knocked down, or had your arm laser-severed, or I don’t know, been body slammed across the room away from that button, you’re screwed. Even a ceiling-to-floor crash bar doesn’t work because it still requires your being within arms reach of that one spot. Better is a system that does not depend on where anyone is in the room for activation.

It works at human response speed

This is world with fast and mind-control supes. It doesn’t make sense to rely on human response times to activate it. Better is a semi-automated system that monitors everything and can respond in microseconds when data trends suspiciously.

Between its being obvious, hard to get to, and requiring manual activation I think nearly every single supe in the show would find it trivial to stop that button from being pressed if they wanted.

The scene could have been written more smartly—without sacrificing the efficiency of the beat—with something like this…

  • Grace
  • This is the CIA Hazlet Safehouse, designed to hold people like you. If you try to leave…
  • Cut to an arc shot of a supe-monitoring display. On the side, a live transcript of the conversation types out Grace’s words as she speaks them. In the center, infrared video of them in the room with overlays for each of them labeled SUPE or human, live vital signs, and a line showing their AI-predicted movements.
  • Grace (voiceover)
  • …or any of our vital signs crash…
  • Cut back to the actors
  • Grace
  • …the room is flooded with halothane and we all take a nice, long nap.
  • Zoom in to Ryan’s face as his eyes dart around and his breathing intensifies.
  • Cut to interface reading “escape prediction” and a number rising to 75, 80, 85. At 90 it turns red and a soft alarm goes off.
  • Cut to an extreme close up of Ryan’s ear to show he hears this alarm.

This isn’t obvious to the supe, works faster than a human could, and doesn’t rely on a human being in a specific spot.

Now instead of this, we could have Ryan brag about what a bad-ass he is and escape before the system can react, but this moment is constructed in the original to show that Ryan isn’t just an arrogant mini-Homelander. He’s a conflicted adolescent with an adolescent’s poor impulse control, and he panicked seeing her reach for the button. Having an alarm sets that same stage for him to panic. Note that I don’t think it’s good design for a system to tip its hand before it enacts control measures—as this does with the alarm—but it would be more forgivable than the dumb button, which just paints the CIA as incompetent and undermines the diegesis.


A screen shot from the episode, showing Homelander looking at a wad of his graying pubic hair in his hand, because he’s seriously fucked up.

OK, that said, this next bit goes out to my fellow Americans:

One of the reasons I have wanted to talk about this show is not just the fascism of the villains, but how it illustrates the corrupting effect of power, and that’s directly related to the coming American election.

With Biden dropping out of the race yesterday, and the Democratic National Convention a month away, I can’t yet formally lean on the merits of the Democratic candidate to make a case for weeks to come. (Though, go go go, Kamala!) But the case against the Republican party almost makes itself.

What we are facing as a nation with this election is existential. The Supreme Court has outrageously ruled that a president is unaccountable for his actions while in office. A dictator’s wet dream. And Trump has declared publicly that he will be a dictator “on day one,” but it’s easy to see that he means “as of day one”. What malignant narcissist willingly gives up power once he has it? His many ties to the wretched Heritage Foundation and its deeply, deeply disturbing Project 2025 (see this video and this one where he directly praises this group and their plan) tell us that if he is elected and his cronies have their way, we fall towards an extremist religious-nationalism that puts The Boys to shame and spells the end of the ideals and institutions that were the reason the United States was invented in the first place. The American Experiment is on the brink.

But to quote the ACLU, despair and resignation are not a strategy. We have to America-up and enact a strategy. Please, please…

Expose the Extremism

Get familiar with the extremist plans (the Christianization and militarization of public school, cutting overtime protections for 4.3 million people, banning labor unions, privatizing Medicare, replacing a million experts with loyalist lackies, putting the DOJ under presidential control, close NOAA and end free weather reports, categorizing LGBTQ+ folks as pederasts and instating a death penalty for it, trying to pass a constitutional amendment to make abortion illegal, and much more) and share those often and loudly on your social media platforms of choice. Especially reach out to anyone on the fence, in a swing state (Arizona, Georgia, Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin), or who thinks they should just sit this one out because the (current) candidates are so old or not doing enough of what they want. We cannot afford “protest votes.”

Volunteer

If you don’t have money to spare (and with the current income inequality plaguing the nation that’s likely to be most of us) you can donate time and effort. If you’re in a solidly-colored state, you can join texting and letter-writing campaigns to those in swing states. If you’re in a swing state (Arizona, Georgia, Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin), you can help canvas directly to voters still deciding. (How they’re still undecided is utterly alien to me, but here we are.) Here are just a few places you can opt to volunteer.

Donate

If you do have money to spare, spare it. Give to progressive and Democratic causes that will use that buying power to get ads, get the word out, and support the vote. Dig deep because I know we’ve heard it before, but this one is critical. 

Vote

Most importantly, have a plan to vote. Register if you’re not. If you are, double-check your voter registration status because they are purged just before elections, often bumping democrats for the most trivial of reasons. Vote by mail if you are overseas or if getting time off on the day of might be a problem. Find your polling location. Make a plan with others to go vote together. Charge your phone and bring water in case there are long lines. (And many bastards have worked very hard to ensure there will be long lines.) Get calendar reminders for voting deadlines sent directly to you.

If everyone gets out there and activates the vote, we can avoid giving the absolutely wrong people the power they should not have. You’re the only one who can stop him.