Review Qubic System
QS‑220 + QS‑Pivot (2.5DOF)

I’m here after years of thinking about motion systems and trying units that look incredible on video, but don’t fit once you actually sit down.

I have one obsession in this category: perceived latency.

If the cue is not perfectly aligned with what I’m seeing, my brain (in my case) doesn’t “smooth it out.” It flags it as a disconnect, and that can end in motion sickness. With Qubic (and very few other brands), that feeling disappears—and that’s why I took it seriously. I come from a competitive FPS background (Counter-Strike), where you live and die by milliseconds. That FPS “defect” means I pick up delays that other people ignore. For me, latency isn’t a number. It’s a disconnect.

What follows is a real-world field report of the QS-220 + QS-Pivot in VR. The good and the uncomfortable: yes, track time— but also installation, infrastructure, and fine-tuning, because that’s where you find out whether this becomes physical telemetry… or a constant source of problems.

My first night with the QS-220 + QS-Pivot didn’t start with telemetry or fine tuning. It started with something much simpler—and much more physical:

When you bring two industrial actuators into your home, your “sim” stops being furniture. It becomes a mechanical system that pushes, hits, moves, and demands that you meet it at its level.

I hadn’t touched my cockpit in almost a month. The actuators arrived, but between work, life, and logistics, the cockpit sat unused. And to top it off, the day I finally sit down to test it happens to coincide with the new iRacing season… VR overlays with definition issues, the feeling that something looks slightly less sharp, small changes all over the place. Not an ideal context to evaluate anything— but a perfect context for one thing: seeing what happens when you go from “static” to “dynamic platform” with no anesthesia.

So the first thing I did was a baseline reference run. The cockpit completely powered down—actuators out of the equation—no added vibration, no motion, no excuses.

The cockpit as I always use it: peripherals, tactile transducers, active belts, and my usual configuration. Three or four laps to get my hands back, refresh my feel, establish zero. The combo was almost mandatory: Radical SR10 at the Nordschleife. It’s a car that speaks clearly: load, transitions, curbs, elevation. If something changes, you notice.

Then I powered on the actuators. And that’s when the reality check landed…

Not “show,” not hype… magnitude of forces, reaction speed, and how it changes your relationship with the car. Up to that point I’d owned a seat mover (Next Level Racing V3) and I’d tried larger platforms at events. But at home—in your cockpit, with your posture, your habits, your real tolerance—it’s a different sport.

The first conclusion was immediate, and it’s not romantic:

You don’t just “sit” and use this. If someone asks me what’s mandatory before profiles or comparisons, my answer is blunt: a proper bucket seat and harnesses.

Not as an aesthetic flex, but as a functional requirement. There are curbs and bumps at the Nordschleife that, with this setup, produce a lateral hit serious enough that your body tries to slide inside the seat. If the seat doesn’t hold you and the harness doesn’t lock you in, you start driving against the motion instead of driving the car. That night I finished with sore ribs, like I’d done real physical work just to stay in position.

And yet, the most revealing part wasn’t the hit. It was what happened later, once I’d been running for a while.

At one point I noticed my iRacing overlays “weren’t where I left them.” My first thought was the reasonable one: “Is the headset tracking struggling with motion?” In VR, that’s a fair fear—platform motion introducing vibration into the HMD, degrading tracking, making everything wobble. But no. The headset held perfectly. That was the first thing I wanted to eliminate.

What happened was more ridiculous—and more serious—at the same time: the cockpit had moved.

When I ended the session, the whole setup had rotated around the rear axis. Not a millimeter. Not “it shifted a little.” A visible rotation of about 25–30 degrees around the vertical axis. Enough to skew the entire room and make me think the headset tracking had failed. That detail resets the frame of this article… We’re not talking about “a peripheral that adds sensation.” We’re talking about a system that transmits enough mechanical energy to move an aluminum cockpit across a wooden floor if you don’t control friction, anchoring, or mass.

That was my first real lesson of the night: you don’t evaluate a platform only by how it feels— you evaluate what it forces you to solve around it. Space, safety zone, cable management, parasite noise, anchoring, operating routine, and the fact that anything “kind of secured” stops being secured the moment the system starts working.

This is not a final verdict. It’s a field report after the first real days of use, with everything good and everything inconvenient that implies.

• There are things I can already state confidently: reaction, mechanical violence, physical demand, and the category jump from “static” to “dynamic.”
• There are things I still cannot close with authority: long-term durability, how fast fasteners settle or loosen, long-term stability once anchoring solutions are fully optimized, and how much a “mature” profile can maintain intensity without hurting lap time or fatigue.
• My goal is not to sell you anything. It’s to tell you what actually happens when you install this at home and turn it on for real—no filter. Cockpit displacement, parasite noise, cables starting to slap, anchoring, and operating routine. Specs matter, but what decides the purchase is what happens in your room.

This system didn’t come from hype or a spec table. It came from elimination, hours of testing, and one simple obsession: not buying blind in a category where the ticket can reach “new cockpit budget” money.

My first stage was a seat mover (Next Level Racing Motion Platform V3). I owned it from 2017 until I sold it around 2022. It was my entry point into motion in VR, and it taught me two things that still hold today. First: a small, well-placed signal beats a blender (“less is more”). Second: when motion is well synchronized with what you see, the brain “buys” the car dynamics almost immediately.

A detail that rarely gets mentioned: the V3 software (from the Motion Systems ecosystem) always felt like a usability benchmark in sim racing. The UI has aged, sure—but the profile logic, the way axes and limits are represented, and the sense of “this was designed by people with real industry experience” set my bar for what I consider a serious product.

When I sold the V3, the logical step was a chassis platform. But the economic jump is no longer linear: you go from an “expensive peripheral” to infrastructure. At that point I did not want a DIY project (SFX-100, Thanos, etc.). Not because it “doesn’t work,” but because I didn’t want the maintenance and support burden. What I wanted was turnkey, with a company behind it that actually supports the system.

That’s what pushed me to Sim Racing Expo (Dortmund) 2024. I needed to try things in person.

By then I had a fairly structured mental map: SFX-100, Thanos controllers, commercial systems like PT-Actuators, Prosimu, FREX, and the “generic actuator” route. What I didn’t have—what I consider mandatory when the ticket is high—was my own felt experience.

And here’s the twist. For years I looked mainly at speed and stroke (mm/s, mm of travel) as if those were definitive. Today I know they aren’t. The real filter—the one that decides buy vs. discard—is perceived latency.

In my testing, only a few systems make latency become transparent (it disappears from your mental model and you stop thinking about the machine under you):

• Qubic System
• Sigma Integrale
• D-BOX

Most others, to varying degrees, trigger the same reaction: your body starts anticipating a delay, the brain doesn’t close the sensory loop, and a “bad cognitive feeling” shows up (anything from disconnection to motion sickness). In some cases the problem isn’t basic 3DOF— it’s how traction loss is handled via the washout filter.

The following year I went back to the Expo. In 2025 I tried Vero Motion and, while the booth defended that there was no latency, I personally felt enough offset that I didn’t want to force-adapt to that signature. I also tried DOF Reality (specifically two H3 units) in a home environment and, out of all the systems I’ve touched, that’s where the temporal disconnect between what I see and what the chassis returns felt most obvious.

With all that context, the QS-220 + QS-Pivot package fit my reality at the end of 2025. Years of research, hands-on at events and at Force2Motion, trust in the industrial approach behind it (Motion Systems / Qubic), and timing (Black Friday) where, for once, the “splurge” made more sense than ever.

I didn’t buy Qubic because of a mm/s number. I bought it because my brain does not forgive latency.

If you take only one idea from this section, take this: the QS-220 + QS-Pivot doesn’t just add motion—it turns your cockpit into a machine that demands real “home engineering”. And that demand is exactly what separates a spectacular experience from a frustrating one.

Before you have actuators in your home, it’s easy to fall into the trap of focusing on two numbers: speed and stroke. I did that too, for years. I saw spec sheets with 150 mm of travel and thought: “this has to feel more real.”

Then you start trying platforms and the criteria re-order themselves. For me, the real order (today) looks like this:

1. Latency (vision–body synchrony): If motion doesn’t arrive on time, your brain won’t integrate it. It doesn’t matter if you have 6DOF, seven actuators, or 150 mm of travel. If the cue is late, you disconnect—and in VR it can make you sick.
2. Signal quality / motion cueing algorithm: “Moving” isn’t enough. What matters is how the signal is filtered and how the system returns to zero when travel is finite (especially during traction loss). That’s where you decide whether it feels organic or whether you feel the machine.
3. Useful stroke: On tarmac, more is not always better. A short-stroke D-BOX can be extremely informative if the signal is clean and latency is low. That said, I do appreciate QS-220 travel on curbs, compressions, and tracks like Nordschleife; that extra makes bigger hits and weight transfer feel more believable.
4. Speed and acceleration: They obviously matter, but once you’re in the “enough” range, diminishing returns kick in. That’s why I’ll say without hesitation that QS-210 already covers what most people will ever need. QS-220 is the logical “because I can” step once you’re already in—more margin, not because the rest “isn’t good.”

If you only hear “2 actuators + pivot,” it can sound like a compromise. In reality it’s a different architecture: an active rear axle working against a fixed front fulcrum. That changes how the signal is generated. You’re not “lifting four corners.” You’re applying linear displacement at the rear to create angle (pitch and roll) and height (heave) around a pivot point.

The practical consequence is twofold. First, the system amplifies what you feel because it converts millimeters into lever motion: small rear movements translate into a clear gesture in your body, especially in VR.

Second, the cost of that clarity is that the front end does not have its own actuator. Front-end information arrives indirectly—through geometry and how your body interprets rotation.

So before talking profiles or “feel,” you need the correct mental model: lever, fulcrum, and how the signal is distributed.

In kinematics terms, two rear actuators plus a front pivot gives you three main motions, but constrained by the fulcrum:

• Heave: both actuators move together and lift/drop the cockpit around the pivot.
• Pitch: common rear height change relative to the pivot creates forward/backward tilt.
• Roll: differential height between left and right actuator.

Quick example: you can generate a very clear pitch cue under braking/accel, but you cannot move the nose independently like a 4-actuator system. The front end does not go up and down on its own; everything happens around the pivot.

What you do not have is just as important:

• Yaw: there is no active axis to rotate the cockpit about vertical.
• True surge/sway translation: you’re not actually translating longitudinally/laterally; everything you feel comes from tilt/heave and how your body interprets those cues.

In a 4-actuator system, each corner can push and you can achieve richer front-end readout (independent impacts). Here, the front end doesn’t push—it supports.

The pivot does two things:

1. Defines the rotation center of the system.
2. Converts linear travel into rotation (lever).

The practical result is that the platform tends to “tell you the car” from the rear axle into your body. Not magic. It’s not trying to reproduce sustained real-world G-forces—it’s trying to provide a coherent physical channel your brain can use as reference.

The pivot introduces a reality you should understand from day one: everything is leverage.

Think of the cockpit as a beam with a fixed point up front (pivot) and two moving points at the rear (actuators). The angle you feel depends on the vertical travel (Δh) and the distance to the pivot (L).

The takeaway is simple—and crucial for mounting:

• If you increase L (pivot farther away), angular motion becomes “softer.”
• If you reduce L (pivot closer to center), angle increases. Pitch becomes more obvious.

That’s why the stiff crossbeam matters. You are applying lever loads. If the reference point flexes, energy turns into parasite vibration.

This needs to be said plainly: with the pivot configuration, the system runs in Heavy Duty. Period. Your initial operating ceiling is defined by that mode.

I’ll admit: I was worried it might feel sluggish. I was wrong. The response felt immediate. If there’s technical latency, my body couldn’t distinguish it from reality.

On 230V, consumption in Heavy Duty ranges from roughly 70W (typical driving) to 300W (stress). Electrically that’s not outrageous, but the mechanical energy is. Your house doesn’t “hear watts.” It hears structure-borne vibration and impacts.

If you lose power or cut mains, assume the next start is a procedure (Cold Start with Motion Lock), not “turn it on and go.” Basic safety: motion lockout and controlled startup.

Safety (E-Stop): the system includes an emergency stop button (E-Stop). It’s not a “just in case” accessory; it’s your fast way to cut motion if something goes wrong (bad profile, a cable snag, someone near the cockpit, etc.).
My placement recommendation:

Keep it reachable from the driving position, and make it routine to verify it’s functional before long sessions.
Nothing should happen—but it’s a small step that can matter in a real emergency.

As an extra, Qubic provides a calculator to estimate pitch and roll values based on layout: Qubic Calculator.

If the QS-220 + QS-Pivot were “just” a peripheral, this section wouldn’t exist. But once you power it on, your cockpit becomes a structure under repeated dynamic loads. Anything that used to be “good enough” is now under mechanical stress.

A Sim-Lab P1X Pro is an excellent base, but an aluminum profile cockpit is still a collection of joints. The question is: is it stiff under repeated impacts at high frequency?

In my build I added a 40×40×500 mm crossbeam to mount the pivot (I don’t have a photo, but I strongly recommend reading the actuator manual to understand 100% why that beam exists). If that reference flexes, the system loses useful energy. I recommend checking critical joints and maintaining consistent torque. I’m even considering Nord-Lock washers—not because anything has loosened yet, but as a future-proofing move once the repeated high-frequency load really starts piling up (for now it’s just an idea).

The first night I thought VR tracking was failing… but the cockpit had rotated. That’s the product doing its job: injecting energy into the structure. You have two goals: isolate vibration and prevent displacement.

Motion turns a loose cable into something that slaps, vibrates, and amplifies noise. Hollow profiles are a blessing when the cable is controlled inside sleeving; when it’s loose, it becomes metallic whip-crack.

Checklist: no free loops near metal; use sleeving, zip ties with controlled slack (don’t choke cables), and define intentional service loops. Electrically, so far I haven’t seen EMI issues, but I’m watching it (if anything odd shows up, I’ll document it).

Have a method. Phase A: motion only, to isolate structure. Phase B: add tactile transducers and accessories one by one. If you don’t, you’ll go insane trying to guess what’s rattling.

Not to cosplay as a driver. The bucket seat prevents your body from sliding. Harnesses turn motion into interpretable signal instead of a physical fight. If you’re fighting to stay centered, you’re not driving precisely.

You will need a plan for moving the cockpit. I use a jack and rolling supports under the actuators. Not elegant, but practical.

Important: if you’re considering a QS-220 + QS-Pivot, go in with the right idea: this is not plug & play. It’s a mechanical integration project. Infrastructure is part of the product.

Making the system communicate is hard. You have actuators, tactile transducers, active belts… You can end up with an “orchestra” all playing at once (sensory saturation) or a clean, organized signal.

Turning everything up to 100% creates physical and cognitive fatigue. Critical cues (weight transfer) get buried under decorative texture. My real test was the feeling of: “I love this, but I need to understand what each layer is telling me.”

• Actuators (QS-220): macro motion (weight transfer, big bumps, heave, pitch, roll).
• Tactile transducers (bass shakers): micro signal (RPM, gearshift, fine road texture).
• Active belts (BT-1): sustained longitudinal cues (braking/accel).

The Tactile Transducer Paradox: Turn Them Off to Start Over
Yesterday something happened that hadn’t happened in years: I ran an entire session with the tactile transducers off… and I didn’t miss them. The lateral richness (when you hit a painted line or curb and feel localized vibration on the correct side of the chassis thanks to the actuators) is so high that transducers, when misconfigured, just muddy the signal. My current strategy is subtraction. I removed almost everything. Now I’ll only reintroduce what the actuators don’t give me (mainly fine RPM). If an effect hides suspension readout, it’s gone.

One example summarizes everything: ABS. With active pedals (Simucube), belts, and actuators, I had three different sources screaming “lockup!” simultaneously. At first, the subtle static cue I used before (5 Hz, Daniel Morad profile) disappeared under the QS-220 + BT-1 intensity.

ABS Case Study: 12 Hz to Unify the Event
The solution wasn’t “turn it up.” It was align the frequency. I configured pedals, belts, and actuators so the ABS event shares a unified 12 Hz signature. In my case the pedal is the primary alert, and chassis + belt reinforce it. Once the frequency is aligned, the brain stops receiving three separate alerts and perceives one coherent physical event: “the car is in ABS.” You feel it in your foot, chest, and seat at once—like a harmonic resonance in the cockpit, not three peripherals fighting each other.

Don’t tune blindly. Build it in layers:

1. Baseline reference lap with no motion.
2. Motion only (tell the main story).
3. Selective reintroduction of tactile cues (RPM, shifts).
4. Belts as longitudinal authority.
5. Validation: consistency before lap time.

Honest note: I still need to fully understand why I don’t feel engine vibration in the actuators the way I expected. It may be my profile or the rear placement.

Reminder: the metric is not “how much the cockpit moves.” The metric is whether you can anticipate weight transfer and correct earlier during traction loss.

Still pending deeper testing. If it reduces the “elevator” feeling under acceleration without inducing sickness, it stays. If not, it goes.

Why it matters: a clean system is human telemetry. A dirty system is noise. In a home environment, fine tuning is engineering.

On track, the thesis gets confirmed: you’re not buying motion—you’re buying an information channel.

I tested with two opposite cars:

• Radical SR10: my reference car. Clear readout.
• Porsche 911 Cup 992.2: a new car with minimal margin for error.

Lab routine: baseline laps, enable the system with a base profile, make small adjustments (10–15%), then swap cars to force comparison.

The honest measurement:

Can I finish a stint without physically fighting the platform?

With the SR10 I got naturalness. Latency disappears (I feel, then I understand). Curbs force you to respect the track; the “perfectly clean” static iRacing line isn’t the same once your body receives actual hits. And I felt a “seat-of-the-pants” slip hint (early traction loss readout) that I hope holds up.

The Cup amplifies character. The system makes it obvious the chassis speaks differently. But my profile wasn’t ready for that level of useful violence. In fast zones with quick direction changes, motion amplifies the punishment if you correct late. You enter, the car unloads, you add correction, the cockpit responds, your body reacts late… and the loop kicks you out.

Cup conclusion: it needs a dedicated profile (less aggressive) and more adaptation hours. Once you put your body into the equation, sim racing becomes athletic.

The system doesn’t just add motion—it adds responsibility. If it gives you more information, it demands you learn how to read it.

The goal is not to reproduce 1:1 forces; it’s to convince the brain. It’s a handshake.

Does this make sense if you don’t drive in VR? Is it worth starting with 2+Pivot?

Note: I’m not recommending this purchase if monitors are your primary scenario. My value return is in VR.

In VR, the platform doesn’t break a fixed visual reference (there’s no static monitor frame). But your head moves with the cockpit; if tracking can’t keep up, you get sick. If your goal is presence, motion is a multiplier. If your goal is pure performance, it can be a double-edged sword at first.

A) Monitors fixed to the room: your body moves, the image doesn’t. Visual disconnect.
B) Monitors mounted to the cockpit: mass, stiffness, reliability. Bolts loosen and new rattles appear. Doing it properly is expensive.

With 2+Pivot you get pitch, roll, and strong rear readout. You do not get independent front-end motion (the nose doesn’t rise/fall on its own). That limitation is kinematic.

Where many systems break down is traction loss. The return-to-center (washout) can feel like “drag” or latency if it’s too aggressive. That’s why my list of “transparent” systems is short (Qubic, Sigma, D-BOX).

If I had to summarize recommendations from an “enthusiast who cares about engineering” angle (not marketing), it would be:

QS-210: for most people, it is “enough” in the only way that matters. You get useful signal, sensible speed, and practical travel without going into “because I can” territory. If you’re coming from zero or from a seat mover and you want to step into actuators, this is the most rational cost/benefit point.

QS-220: when you’re already in and you can justify the extra, it’s the natural step. Not because “without 220 it’s not worth it,” but because you gain margin and travel that are genuinely fun on realistic tracks (Nordschleife, Daytona, Sebring).

Sigma Integrale (DK2+/DK6+): if your absolute priority is synchrony and their proposition fits you, it’s one of the very few brands that gave me the “this is glued to the image” sensation.

D-BOX: I wouldn’t center my decision on stroke (usually shorter), but on philosophy: clean, informative signal and an approach that can work extremely well if your brain likes the cueing.

And I’ll end with the only recommendation that I think is universal:

Try before you buy.

Sensitivity to latency and cueing style varies wildly. I’m extremely sensitive, and what’s “totally fine” for someone else can be an immediate discard for me in five seconds.

With the QS-220 + QS-Pivot I’ve confirmed what I suspected for years: useful motion is not the motion that impresses; it’s the motion that arrives on time and lets you read the car without fighting your own body. When synchrony is good, VR immersion scales almost indecently. When it isn’t, the system becomes cognitive noise. For me the symptom is simple: if the cue arrives late, I feel disconnect and can end up sick; if it arrives on time, I stop thinking about the platform and think only about the line.

This configuration has a very defined nature: it prioritizes the rear axle and weight transfer, while giving the front axle less of a voice. I don’t see that as a flaw, but as a deliberate kinematic compromise. In exchange, the footprint is more compact and—when tuned well—it delivers a kind of physical telemetry that I personally find addictive.

Roadmap (What Still Needs Measurement and Refinement)

• 2 vs 4 actuators: the Expo made the qualitative jump obvious, but I want to quantify it at home with my geometry, my VR setup, and my profiles.
• Q-Mode vs Heavy Duty: once infrastructure is 100% locked down (anchoring, cable routing, stiffness), I’ll evaluate what the higher-performance mode actually adds and for which cars the extra mechanical stress is worth it.
• Layer separation (motion vs tactile): continue refining frequency allocation so RPM and texture don’t contaminate suspension and inertia readout.

This is the most important question because it’s not answered by a spec sheet. First, you need to separate three things people usually lump together as “noise”:

• Actuator noise (mechanical/airborne): the QS-220’s own moving sound. In my experience, it’s very low. Not absolute zero, but at normal use levels it’s not what “gives you away.”
• Cockpit parasite noise: loose cables hitting aluminum profile, vibrating plates, accessories with play, parts that rattle. This can be heard through walls, and it’s also what destroys immersion. The good news: it’s usually fixable with order, fastening, and torque.
• Structure-borne vibration (transmission into the floor/building): not “noise” in the classic sense; it’s energy traveling through the floor. In an apartment, this is the sensitive part—especially if your profile emphasizes high-frequency haptic content from the actuators, not just macro motion.

My context:
I’m not in an apartment with neighbors below. My cockpit is upstairs in my home, and my priority is not disturbing my family. On my first night, with the cockpit as it was (cable routing not yet “locked down” and a couple of loose elements), yes it was noticeable from other rooms. Not because of the actuator itself, but because of parasite noise. After securing cable runs, removing slap points, and re-checking joints, the improvement is massive. From there, the critical part is how you handle the haptic side of the actuators.

What I Tried / Where I Am Right Now

• Initial baseline:

Cockpit on a Sim-Lab carpet over parquet. In that configuration, what “speaks” the loudest is not the QS-220 itself, but anything that hits metal (cables, plates, accessories).

• Main fix:

Cable routing and fastening (sleeving + ties with controlled slack), plus hunting down anything that can rattle. This is the single biggest improvement for both immersion and coexistence.

• Washer-style rubber pads (test):

I tested/considered rubber pads I already had. They can reduce transmission into the floor, but there are two tradeoffs:
(1) if the base is too soft, you can compromise stability (and with a system like this, stability is safety), and (2) you can “eat” some of the haptic signal you’re trying to leverage with actuators.

Yes, in my view it makes sense physically: an elastic interface can act as isolation and reduce high-frequency vibration reaching the floor. But the manufacturer’s warning also makes sense. If you overdo thickness/softness, you introduce compliance where the system needs firm support.

Even with actuator cups, a soft base can:

• Increase micro-oscillation (“bounce”) and hurt perceived precision in certain cues.
• Reduce punch and some of the fine texture reaching the cockpit (which feels like lost information).
• Increase the risk of unwanted behavior if the support allows displacement or twist under dynamic loads.

My current approach follows a simple principle: first eliminate parasite noise and mechanical play; then study floor isolation using solutions that keep a stable footprint (more “stiff + controlled decoupling layer” than “soft rubber everywhere”).

• 1) Kill parasite noise before buying anything: cables, plates, accessories, play. It’s what carries the most and what ruins sessions the fastest.
• 2) Run a realistic test: same time of day, same intensity, with someone in the adjacent room.
• 3) Separate macro vs haptic: macro motion (pitch/roll/heave) can coexist better; strong high-frequency haptic content is what tends to transmit structurally. If needed, leave fine texture to dedicated tactile transducers and reduce actuator haptics at night.
• 4) A sensible Plan B: “day” and “night” profiles. Not ideal, but real life.

Note: if over time I see any joint starting to settle/loosen under repeated vibration, my plan is to reinforce critical points with something like Nord-Lock. Not because it’s failing now, but as prevention for long-term dynamic loading.

I agree with the core idea: four actuators give you richer readout (including independent front-end motion) and, in terms of immersion and capability, it’s superior. The nuance I want to add is about path and criteria.

I don’t see 2+Pivot as a “cheap cut,” it’s a different architecture (lever/fulcrum) that can be very effective—especially in VR—if the signal arrives on time and is well filtered. My priority was not “more DOF at any cost,” it was synchrony (perceived latency) and cueing quality.

In my case, if the cue is late, I feel disconnect and can end up sick. That criterion outweighs everything else.

Thinking in horizons, I chose a system that lets me start with 2+Pivot and scale to 4 actuators later—if, once infrastructure is fully solved (anchoring, stiffness, cable routing, coexistence), it makes sense to take that step.

Software, ecosystem, and support are not “extras” to me; they are part of the product. If this is going to live in my home for 10–15 years, I need the company and the stack to be up to the task.

My honest summary:
Yes, four actuators are better, but I didn’t want to buy “the best kinematics” if that meant risking a platform my brain rejects due to latency or cueing. I tried what I could (I did not get hands-on time with eRacing-Lab, SHH, and a few similar options), prioritized what is non-negotiable for me, and chose a platform that lets me grow without restarting the entire project.

Here’s a video from one of the first official races where I tested the system: