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Introduction

The explosive rise of the magnetic switch market is already an industry-wide consensus.

I once held a view—one I believe many players and practitioners have also entertained—that the trajectory of MX switches was essentially predetermined. When the “good” or “bad” of a technical system can be quantified and broadly agreed upon, its room for innovation is effectively sealed off. From metal contacts in leaf springs, to stem-guiding structures, to lubrication processes, once the physical limits of mechanical precision are fully explored, any subsequent improvement is little more than seasoning.

And so a subtle suspense began to take shape—who, then, is qualified to become the next “MX”?

The data seems to be hinting at an answer. According to a report by JD.com’s Consumer and Industry Development Research Institute, in June 2025, sales revenue of magnetic switch keyboards surged 225% year-on-year, while growth in high-end models priced above RMB 1,000 reached an astonishing 410%. Even after excluding promotional effects, magnetic switches have undeniably become the mainstay for many brands, in some cases accounting for as much as 90% of sales.

The logic behind the magnetic switch boom appears airtight: it opens up new possibilities in latency, while perfectly inheriting the MX lineage in terms of aesthetics and accessory compatibility.

But when everyone believes it to be the standard answer, perhaps it is worth asking in return—are we even still asking the right question?

Amid the chorus of KOLs proclaiming that “magnetic switches are the future,” I remain deeply skeptical. After trying a wide variety of magnetic switch keyboards, visiting factories, and holding in-depth conversations with industry insiders as well as observers outside the scene, I have come to a conclusion: the answer does not lie in magnetic switches themselves. They may be a key leading toward some kind of “singularity,” but they are not necessarily the endpoint of this era.

So if magnetic switches are not the destination, what will the next decade look like? Today, using “magnetic switches” as a phenomenon-level entry point, let’s take a serious look at this question: just how much further does the next decade of gaming keyboards still have to go?

How Did a “New Technology” from Half a Century Ago Come Back to Life?

The “magnetic switches” we talk about today are hardly some out-of-the-blue, muscle-bound black magic. In fact, compared with keyboards’ elder sibling—the Alps SCB1A163 from the 1970s that I mentioned in A Brief History of New Mechanical Keyboard Structures, which combined mechanical reed contacts with magnetic sensing—modern magnetic switches are actually more minimalist in design.

They consist of a top housing, a stem, and a bottom housing, removing the physically wearing metal leaf contacts and replacing them with a permanent magnet embedded inside the stem. Strictly speaking, they are not full-fledged “Hall switches”; calling them Magnet Switches is indeed more accurate. The principle is simple: a Hall sensor on the PCB detects changes in the magnetic field, thereby calculating key travel depth and speed. No contact, no conductive leaf, no mechanical closure—this implies, at least in theory, infinite lifespan, extreme smoothness, and analog-like input precision.

For those interested in the development story of magnetic switches, you can read the article How Did Magnetic Switches, Once Meant to Redefine “Pressing a Key,” Die and Then Be Reborn as the Keyboard Community’s New Favorite? written by keyboard enthusiast Seven Knights Thomas.

But the question is this: the magnetic switch concept already existed half a century ago. Why is it only becoming popular now? To answer that, we need to trace our steps back along the timeline of product evolution.

When talking about modern magnetic switch keyboards, it is impossible not to mention one of the earliest products to commercialize the technology—SteelSeries Apex Pro. It is worth noting that SteelSeries is not only one of the brands that first brought mechanical keyboards back into the mainstream (dating back to the early SteelSeries 6G), but also among the earliest manufacturers to combine magnetic sensing technology with the MX form factor and push it into the consumer market.

With the Apex Pro, SteelSeries впервые introduced adjustable actuation magnetic switches under the name “OmniPoint,” allowing players to customize the actuation distance of each key via software.

However, the product did not achieve overwhelming success at launch—because “adjustable actuation” itself was not a novel concept. At the time, there were already products on the market using Flaretech prism optical switches and analog optical switches to achieve similar functionality, such as the Wooting ONE.

The real turning point began when Wooting shifted from the optical switch route to magnetic switches. In a podcast interview with BadSeed Tech, Wooting’s CEO candidly explained that bottlenecks in adjustment range and stability with prism optical switches forced them to fully pivot to magnetic switches. Magnetic switch structures are simpler, do not require optical alignment precision, and offer finer adjustment granularity. Moreover, before switching to magnetic switches, Wooting had already built a reputation among players through its self-developed firmware and features such as Rapid Trigger (RT) and linear actuation—enabling things like dual-key movement in Fortnite and throttle control in racing games. Magnetic switches pushed “adjustable actuation” to a more extreme yet still usable domain—and that, precisely, was the key.

If the adoption of magnetic switches on keyboards was an intuitive technological progression, their subsequent—and especially domestic—explosion in popularity cannot be separated from the combined momentum of player sentiment and market competition. And the crucial inflection point was the rising popularity of Valorant.

In 2023 and 2024, with the establishment of the VCT CN competitive system and the official launch of the Chinese servers, Valorant experienced a true breakout in China. The exposure brought by esports events extended beyond the game itself: the peripherals used by professional players were increasingly magnified as extensions of competitive prowess. From keyboards and mice to monitor refresh rates, any detail that could be quantified became a focal point of player discussion.

On the professional stage, the value of keyboards was being redefined.

In reports from ProSettings.net, the keyboard category had long been relatively “uneventful.” For most professional players, peripheral choices are influenced to some extent by sponsorships—keyboards in particular. This is because, in competition, the performance ceiling of keyboards was relatively easy to reach—at least in the era of traditional mechanical switches, when there was little technological evolution significant enough to affect keyboard choice.

But starting in 2023, as the Wooting 60HE gradually expanded from the Fortnite scene into a broader range of games, the landscape began to shift. At that time, traditional mechanical switch products like the Logitech G Pro X were still the “default standard” on the esports stage, but the TKL (87-key) layout had already fully replaced full-size keyboards as the mainstream. By mid-2023, the Wooting 60HE entered the top five of ProSettings’ statistical rankings for the first time. Although its numbers had not yet reached market peak due to group-buy models and production constraints, the momentum was already evident.

By August 2024, the situation had changed significantly. In Valorant usage rankings, the Wooting 60HE took first place, followed closely by the Razer Huntsman V3 Pro TKL. In cross-title overall statistics, the Razer Huntsman V3 Pro TKL ranked first, with the Wooting 60HE close behind. Most notably, within the Valorant rankings, these three magnetic and optical switch products—the Wooting 60HE, Razer Huntsman V3 Pro TKL, and Razer Huntsman V3 Pro Mini—together accounted for more than half of total usage.

To some extent, this means that in competitive environments where “input latency” and “actuation response” sit at the core, magnetic switches, optical switches, and adjustable actuation have truly reshaped the landscape of professional peripherals.

Turning back to the product side, the magnetic switch keyboard market in 2023 was still in its early days. Overall pricing carried a high premium, competition was not yet fully formed, yet iteration and product launches were happening at an unusually rapid pace. The first wave of domestic magnetic switch keyboards—represented by brands like Zuìlù—became the earliest “crab eaters.” They seized the window when Wooting products were nearly impossible to obtain, and against a backdrop of domestic shortages and reseller markups, entered the market at relatively controllable prices (around RMB 1,000), quickly drawing attention.

What followed was a competitive rhythm all too familiar for domestic brands—the price war.

Models adopting off-the-shelf driver solutions and using Hejin magnetic switches as a cost-controlled alternative to upstream suppliers like Gateron began to appear. A wave of low-priced magnetic switch keyboards sprang up almost overnight—models such as the Redragon M61, LTP68, and Jiangwan AE68 all made their debut in quick succession.

However, early domestic magnetic switch keyboards suffered from a host of usability issues. Driver compatibility, actuation accuracy, and latency tuning were often subpar. Some models even exhibited signal drift or failures to save actuation settings. At the same time, the concept of the “magnetic switch keyboard” was gradually taking root in the mass market.

By 2024, as the ecosystem, software, and gaming discussions around magnetic switch keyboards continued to heat up, competition across the entire market entered a white-hot phase.

If one word were to describe the magnetic switch market in 2024, it would have to be—frenzied. A frenzied market, frenzied public discourse, frenzied products.

In 2024, RT precision became the first chip placed on the table in the magnetic switch keyboard game. The initial round of elimination revolved around who could claim the most outrageous precision specifications. This was followed by “debunking” magnetic switch accuracy claims and entry-level instrumentation tests—echoing the vibe of hardware testing circles from years past, though largely only in flavor.

Looking back, the noise of that period made it difficult to tell which advances were genuine technological progress and which were little more than marketing-driven hype. How much of it was self-amplification born of competitive anxiety, and how much followed some unspoken, tacit script, is impossible to verify.

What is certain, however, is that the magnetic switch market of 2024 was a long-awaited downpour for a mechanical keyboard community that had already been squeezed to its limits. It revitalized certain teams and brands—and that opportunity became a lifeline they were willing to fight desperately to seize.

As 2025 arrived, with market enthusiasm cooling and player understanding maturing, the competitive focus of magnetic switch keyboards began to shift. Compared with the endlessly hyped “precision myth,” latency performance gradually emerged as the true benchmark of experience. Interestingly, though, the change in standards did not bring about a change in how discussions were framed. Debates over the merits of magnetic switch keyboards remained deeply polarized. Behind this lay both deliberate brand strategies and the visible imprint of shaped user perceptions.

Faced with such a wild and surging market, manufacturers began to lay their cards on the table.

Next, let’s look at the recent moves of several manufacturers to see what kind of “battlefield” they believe magnetic switches truly represent.

The Many Faces of Magnetic Switches

Republic of Gamers (ROG)

Although debates about the “big three” never really stop, if you look across the entire gaming hardware ecosystem, you will find ROG’s presence on almost every track. You might not rank ROG as your personal No. 1, but in terms of sheer execution and willingness to go all in, it is probably the brand most ready to charge at full speed.

Looking back at the broader peripherals landscape, ROG currently sits in a rather subtle catch-up position compared with several long-established rivals. As mentioned earlier, peripheral usage on the professional stage tends to exert a powerful influence on consumer choices—and conversely, the pro scene itself is a condensed reflection of brand strength.

In the mouse segment, industry leaders like Logitech at the top, the firmly entrenched Razer, the competition-focused ZOWIE, and a wave of emerging boutique brands riding trends like ultra-lightweight designs and honeycomb shells together define today’s ecosystem. ROG has released several noteworthy products in recent years—such as the Dragon Scale ACE series, which I personally admire—but overall, compared with its commanding presence in motherboards, graphics cards, and laptops, its reach and discourse power in the mouse market still fall short of these competitors. This is partly due to the ethical and strategic restraint expected of a large manufacturer, and partly because the mouse market itself is relatively ossified.

In the keyboard segment, however, the picture looks different. This is a category that can still be redefined today, and keyboards have become a key strategic pillar within ROG’s peripheral lineup.

Keyboards, mice, and headsets—the three core PC gaming peripherals—have an inherent synergy, especially the keyboard–mouse pairing, which is often sold as a bundle and drives mutual demand. When one component becomes compelling enough, it can feed back into the broader ecosystem and help form a closed loop of brand identity.

Under this logic, the chips ROG has placed on keyboards are unquestionably heavy. It treats keyboards as a growth engine for its peripherals business and as a crucial vehicle for reshaping player perception of the brand—maintaining its established DNA while also striving to create new points of differentiation in design and user experience.

Looking back at its product lines over the past few years, ROG’s strategic layout stands out as one of the most distinctive—and most deliberate—among major brands.

The Night Demon series, built around a customization-first philosophy, broke into the high-end gaming crowd through DIY appeal; the Sorcerer RX LP low-profile optical keyboards, known for their distinctive feel, are almost in a class of their own among low-profile designs; and muscle-flexing, no-expense-spared products like the Night Demon Extreme have always been ROG’s forte.

Across many of these products, ROG has demonstrated the confidence and resources of a top-tier manufacturer. Yet in the magnetic switch keyboard market of 2024—where “everything else is inferior, only higher specs matter”—ROG chose to limit magnetic switch adjustable actuation to a range of 0.1–4.0 mm. On paper, this specification is hardly eye-catching, and even seems at odds with ROG’s long-standing image as a “performance monster.”

In 2025, ROG unveiled its ultra-flagship—the Shadow Fiend. Without a doubt, this is a product that feels “very ROG”: a forward-looking tri-mode magnetic switch architecture, an expansive software–hardware ecosystem, and, in some respects, even greater R&D investment and cost than the Night Demon Extreme.

Yet even with the Shadow Fiend as its flagship, Republic of Gamers (ROG) chose to hold the line on that crucial “electronic cockfighting” metric—the adjustable actuation range. You can read this as ROG’s willfulness and stubbornness, or as the natural result of a cooling market where players and public opinion are no longer as extreme; a less charitable interpretation might be that ROG has already committed too much and is unwilling to back down.

Beyond raw specifications, ROG’s two magnetic switch keyboards offer a number of genuinely practical features: RT toggle switches, touch panels and interaction buttons inherited from the Sorcerer line, all in an effort to make something that is not just another look-alike keyboard. What ROG is aiming for is a truly gaming-focused keyboard—one that proves its brand strength and industry standing.

I suspect ROG may already have gained what it most wanted from this magnetic switch upheaval: its own interpretation of what a gaming keyboard should be.

But the market’s response has been cold. The Shadow Fiend failed to recreate the momentum and buzz once enjoyed by the Night Demon Extreme. Split keyboards are simply too “ahead of their time” for mainstream players, and when combined with aggressive pricing, sales performance remained mediocre, leaving channels under considerable inventory pressure. Perhaps ROG misjudged market expectations for magnetic switches; perhaps it never intended this product to be a mass hit in the first place. Still, every act of persistence and experimentation comes at a cost.

The magnetic switch battle is far from over, and ROG has to keep moving forward. The arrival of the Night Demon 98HE is clearly an attempt to reverse the Shadow Fiend’s downturn and reclaim initiative in the next phase of competition. ROG may well abandon some of its earlier convictions, opting for a more mainstream-friendly approach to capture market share.

Having talked about ROG, let’s turn to another major player—one that has not directly joined the head-on competition in magnetic switch keyboards, yet has nonetheless reaped unexpected gains from the storm: Razer.

Razer

Perhaps even Razer itself did not expect to be pushed into the center of the spotlight on the “magnetic switch” stage. After all, what Razer has consistently championed in the Huntsman lineup is optical switches and analog optical switches. For a long time, optical switches were widely seen as the next-generation solution beyond mechanical switches.

As discussed earlier, one of the core reasons Wooting abandoned optical switches in favor of magnetic ones lay in the structural bottlenecks of optical technology at the time. Wooting used prism-based optical switches that relied on phase detection to provide travel feedback and adjustment. This approach struggled to meet its requirements in terms of precision, fault tolerance, and long-term stability. Razer, by contrast, opted for the more demanding analog optical switch route—reading signals via light-flux detection. In theory, this offers more stable actuation behavior and a wider controllable range.

That said, my impression of the first-generation Huntsman was far from positive. The only things that stuck with me were its balancing-bar optical switch structure—shared with Bloody keyboards—and Razer’s signature, extremely flamboyant lighting system. In that first iteration, the optical switch was treated as little more than “a faster silver switch.” It was not developed into the rich feature set we now associate with gaming keyboards, nor did it truly surpass mechanical switches in actual experience. And that was precisely the problem. The Huntsman, priced well above a thousand yuan, was disappointing in both feel and build quality: a flimsy chassis, loose bottom stand, cheap keycaps, the characteristically hollow typing feedback common to esports keyboards, and the ever-frustrating issue of accidental inputs. For a flagship product at that price, the experience left me asking—was this really a flagship?

On the other hand, Razer’s performance in the mouse segment has been outstanding. From the DeathAdder series spanning entry-level to professional play, to the Viper line representing lightweight design, the ultra-flagship Viper Mini Wireless, the Basilisk emphasizing grip comfort and balanced functionality, and the ambidextrous Cobra focused on compatibility—Razer has effectively built a mouse lineup that covers every tier of players.

Although Logitech dominated for a long time with the GPW, and the wave of ultra-light honeycomb mice had a dramatic impact on the market, Razer has always been the most tenacious competitor in this space, with one of the most stable positions. Its relentless iteration in mice, along with sustained competition in both technology and marketing, stems from a simple truth: within the esports peripheral ecosystem, the mouse has always been Razer’s core stronghold and spiritual totem. Riding on this momentum, Razer found itself with an unexpected “counterattack opportunity” when the magnetic switch war broke out.

In recent years, Razer has not made many dramatic moves in keyboards. Even products like the “Scarab King” were clearly launched against the backdrop of directly competing with ROG’s Night Demon. Still, the Huntsman series has never truly faded from Razer’s core product lineup.

The Huntsman TE, updated in 2019, established the foundational layout and design direction that still defines the series today. Then, in 2021, Razer officially introduced its “analog optical switch” system with the Huntsman V2—a critical turning point. This move pushed optical switches beyond mere “speed” into a new phase of being “adjustable and perceptible,” laying the groundwork for the later expansion of Razer’s entire input ecosystem. As the magnetic switch market exploded in 2023 and the industry chased ever more precise actuation and ever more extravagant technical narratives, Razer did not rush to embrace magnetic switches. Instead, it released the Huntsman V3 in 2023 and continued to deepen its analog optical switch approach.

The second-generation analog optical switches brought a significant improvement in overall mold precision and, building on the previous generation, further opened up firmware capabilities. As a result, the Huntsman V3 Pro has reached a level of functionality that can be directly compared with magnetic switch keyboards. And in the ProSettings VCT 2025 player equipment statistics, the Razer Huntsman V3 Pro Mini and TKL secured second and third place on the leaderboard.

So what, exactly, did Razer gain from this magnetic-switch war it seemed to “sit out”?

Setting aside the obvious wins—sales revenue and player mindshare—I’d argue that, for Razer, nothing is more satisfying than finally beating its old rival, Logitech.

For a very long time, Logitech’s mechanical keyboard lines—products like the G Pro X and G915 TKL—sat firmly at the top of virtually every gaming keyboard ranking. They were treated as the default standard for gaming keyboards. Now, Razer has leveraged analog optical switches—not magnetic switches—and ridden the market reshuffle triggered by magnetic switches to slowly pry open what once looked like an impregnable wall.

Of course, this outcome is the result of multiple forces converging: Razer’s accumulated technical and marketing momentum, the leverage it built on the mouse side of the business, and also Logitech’s inertia after resting too comfortably on the success of the GPW, along with a noticeable skew in its product and marketing priorities in recent years. Perhaps this moment represents the peak of Razer’s combined strength and user mindshare in the FPS esports peripheral space.

Having talked about Razer, let’s briefly introduce a particularly interesting angle. Although ROG and Razer have taken completely different paths—magnetic switches versus optical switches—if you trace things back to the supply-chain level, you’ll uncover a rather intriguing fact: most of their so-called exclusive switches actually come from the same supplier, 瑞讯瑞翼鲨. Whether due to exclusivity agreements, cost considerations, or other more complex, multi-dimensional factors is a topic for another day.

Melgeek

Melgeek is, without exaggeration, a phenomenon-level brand in China’s magnetic switch scene. Starting out as a design-driven studio (0.01 Studio), it quickly established a distinct aesthetic identity in the mass-production space through its MDA-profile keycaps and the MOJO series.

Yet before the magnetic switch era arrived, Melgeek’s development had clearly entered a period of tension. Despite repeated attempts to break through—such as the modernist Modern97 and the pixel-inspired Pixel—none managed to sustain long-term momentum. The brand’s reliance on the MOJO design language became increasingly heavy, while these experimental efforts were undermined by operational missteps (the Pixel blind-box controversy being a prime example), which even generated negative backlash overseas.

If brands like Lofree managed to build a stable core around “design + atmosphere,” then Melgeek, prior to the magnetic switch era, was constantly “searching for its next long-term meal ticket.” It desperately needed a decisive victory to complete a strategic pivot.

That is why Made68 meant far more to Melgeek than just another “hit product.” It was a battle they had to win. Learning from earlier misfires—such as CYBER01, whose overly aggressive esports styling and pricing failed to resonate—Melgeek chose to simplify rather than escalate.

Revisiting Made68 today, you can clearly see a deliberate shift in design language. The keyboard adopts a restrained, blocky “tofu-brick” form factor, with the front face stripped of almost all decorative elements. On the USB-C side, however, Melgeek introduced a lightbox structure inspired by electrical indicator lamps, paired with interchangeable side panels to provide visible avenues for personalization. The keycaps use Melgeek’s own near-OEM MCR height in a two-tone color scheme, preserving strong visual identity within an otherwise minimalist aesthetic.

In stark contrast to its impressive sales figures, however, Melgeek’s performance in team operations and product cadence has been noticeably poor. In fact, latent product-level issues had already surfaced before the magnetic switch boom. Take MG keycaps as an example: aside from the Glimmer series, many colorways drew user complaints over color inconsistency, with the brand frequently responding that “renders differ from real products.” At a time when the custom keyboard ecosystem was still rough around the edges and supply chains lacked standardization, such flaws were often seen as industry norms and met with a degree of user tolerance.

But these underlying problems were never truly resolved as the brand grew. They were merely obscured—until Melgeek’s audience expanded beyond a niche circle and into a broader market, where those issues resurfaced with greater intensity and frequency. Early batches of the Made68 were plagued by delayed shipments, inconsistent channel pricing, and chaotic supply pacing, all pointing to a structural mismatch between the team’s capabilities and the speed of its growth.

More critically, after Made68’s explosive success, Melgeek’s iteration strategy visibly lost coherence. Driven by an aggressive hunger for market share, the brand opted for a high-risk approach during this year’s 618 shopping festival: “silent revisions plus price cuts.” The result was predictable—emotional backlash from its core user base and a loss of control over public opinion.

Returning to magnetic switch keyboards themselves, the value of the Made series lies in the fact that it proved magnetic switches are not destined to serve esports alone. It challenged the market’s aesthetic prejudice at the time—that magnetic switch keyboards were merely “gaming keyboards”—and repositioned them as products suitable for everyday use and desk setups, pushing them toward a much broader audience. In doing so, it also exposed a genuine user demand for “beauty” that had long been obscured by certain manufacturers’ path dependence and product inertia. From Melgeek’s case in particular, we can observe a structural shift taking place in the magnetic switch market—from parameters to experience, from a single esports scenario to multiple contexts such as daily use, office work, and desk setups, and from switch-centric thinking to brand experience–oriented thinking.

So what did Melgeek gain? In the early stage of the magnetic switch market, it secured the kind of “narrative authority” that only first movers enjoy, along with ample chips for the next round of competition—capital and market trust. This also continued Melgeek’s familiar success formula: using a single design to prop up the entire brand’s visibility and perception. Whether Melgeek can leverage the momentum of the magnetic switch market to undergo a truly make-or-break transformation, however, remains an open question.

Or perhaps branding itself is always a matter of rowing upstream—stand still, and you fall behind. Whether Melgeek possesses the necessary resolve is not for me to pass judgment on.

Having finished with Melgeek, let’s move on to another brand that has also emerged unexpectedly in the magnetic switch market—Iqunix.

IQUNIX

IQUNIX is, in fact, a relatively long-established brand. More than a decade ago, it was already making desktop and digital accessories on platforms like Digital Tail, with almost all of its products crafted from aluminum alloy—hence the nickname “the Aluminum Factory.” Over time, the brand gradually shifted its focus toward keyboards.

After the OG80 brought it a moment of great acclaim, IQUNIX then slipped into a quiet period that lasted several years. This lull stemmed partly from wavering decisions at the management level, and partly from the brand being both aware of and exhausted by the extreme internal competition of the mechanical keyboard market. IQUNIX seemed to be searching for a new point of leverage, until the Super series finally established a clear move upmarket.

Then the sudden rise of magnetic switches threw everyone off balance.

Faced with this upheaval, the response of this “veteran” was remarkably swift. If ROG’s product strategy reflects the calculated, big-company style of careful planning before action, then IQUNIX’s performance can be described as all-in: rapidly integrating resources, mobilizing every available upstream and downstream solution and supply chain, and cutting decisively into the magnetic switch arena.

At the same time, IQUNIX’s market instincts were sharp. When the EZ series launched, it targeted two key pain points. First, it filled a gap in the then-underrepresented RMB 1,000 finished-keyboard segment, offering users a high-quality ready-made product. Second, it served as a new technological experiment. The success of that experiment solidified IQUNIX’s resolve to invest further. As market share and user base accumulated, the EV series followed with even greater focus—iterating based on user feedback from the EZ series, while cleverly avoiding the sense of “forced iteration” that can alienate users.

Through price differentiation and SKU overlap between the EZ63 (¥1299–1499) and EV63 (¥1099–1399), IQUNIX effectively locked down the fiercely contested mid-range magnetic switch market. It did not pursue a low-price strategy. Instead, it brought over its well-honed aluminum-alloy craftsmanship wholesale. The EZ/EV series set out to address a core pain point in the magnetic switch space: why should pursuing extreme performance require tolerating a sense of cheapness?

IQUNIX’s ultimate advantage lies in its refusal to cut corners—whether in its self-developed software solutions or its willingness to invest on the hardware side. In this sense, it represents a form of “high-end value for money.” At least at the product level, IQUNIX rarely leaves behind deliberate weaknesses akin to “planned obsolescence.” This allowed it to successfully resonate with a segment of core users, planting the “Aluminum Factory” flag squarely on a magnetic switch battlefield otherwise dominated by parameter worship.

But to attribute IQUNIX’s success solely to acting “fast” would be superficial—and entirely insufficient to explain it. Its victory is rooted in two crucial kinds of “slowness.”

The first is thorough preparation. IQUNIX does not fight unprepared battles. From the outside, many of its moves may appear quick, but in reality, major actions are typically preceded by at least one to two years of preparation. The magnetic switch market exploded in 2023, yet IQUNIX began observing and evaluating as early as the start of that year whether this was truly “something worth doing.” Such depth of strategic judgment ensured that its entry was not blind trend-chasing.

The second is attention to details beyond raw specifications. Take the angled slope design of the EV63, for example—it emerged directly from EZ series user feedback about wrist pain, as well as repeated reports of tendonitis within the community. Before the EV63 launched, IQUNIX’s internal development team spent over three months testing before settling on the most comfortable angle and incline. This commitment to getting the “beyond-the-specs” details right is something IQUNIX continues to do consistently.

Clear objectives and decisive execution are IQUNIX’s greatest strengths.

I am convinced that there are brands in this market with far greater scale and far more leverage within the supply chain than the “Aluminum Factory.” What they lack, however, is the same level of conviction. And it is precisely this kind of strategic hesitation that has given brands like IQUNIX a rare window for breakthrough in the magnetic switch era.

After talking about the winners, it must be acknowledged that the market frenzy brought by magnetic switches has not been a shared joy across the industry. The gains and losses are uneven, and the cake created by magnetic switches is not something everyone gets a slice of.

Next, let’s turn our attention to those brands that have stumbled in the magnetic switch wave—those that have underperformed, struggled, or been temporarily forgotten by the market.

NuPhy

Let’s start with an old friend of this channel—NuPhy. Chronologically speaking, NuPhy released its first magnetic switch keyboard, the Field75 HE, in mid-2024. In terms of timing, this wasn’t particularly early, but it wasn’t late either. However, instead of designing an entirely new keyboard, NuPhy chose to “magnetize” an existing model: the Field75, previously positioned as part of its gaming line and known for its highly distinctive appearance, was retrofitted with HE switches and refreshed colorways.

This kind of grafting strategy is not hard to understand. From NuPhy’s perspective, in the magnetic switch market at the time, the Field75’s design easily stood out among most keyboard designs—and even today, it remains highly recognizable. At the same time, the Field75 itself was already something of an outlier within NuPhy’s lineup (not a native design), making it difficult to integrate smoothly into NuPhy’s core “minimalist aesthetics” marketing narrative.

In NuPhy’s original plan, reusing a mature chassis and structural design while focusing its main efforts on integrating and tuning magnetic switches and firmware would allow the company to bring a product to market more quickly, catching the early-to-mid wave of magnetic switch hype. It would also avoid disrupting the positioning of its core product lines, such as the Air series.

Reality, however, rarely unfolds so smoothly. While this strategy looked like a perfect way to hedge risks on paper, in practice it proved ill-suited to the emerging functional battleground of magnetic switches. It also overestimated the appeal of NuPhy’s design language to performance-focused, hardcore users.

At the height of the “electronic cockfighting” phase, the Field75 HE’s Rapid Trigger (RT) performance was not particularly impressive. And because NuPhy had yet to launch its NuPhy IO web-based driver, it lagged behind in software ecosystem and deep programmability—areas that are central to the competitive edge of magnetic switch keyboards.

More importantly, the design aesthetics that NuPhy had relied on for success—whether the minimalist style of the Air/Halo series or the retro radio-inspired look of the Field75—simply did not resonate with the magnetic switch market. In hindsight, this may be because the user profile differed significantly from NuPhy’s traditional audience. Neither the clean minimalism of Air and Halo nor the radio-inspired Field75 design generated much of a splash.

In an effort to reverse course, NuPhy released a more compromised, more market-aligned product in March 2025: the BH65. This standard “brick-style” keyboard form factor was meant to pair with NuPhy’s subsequent accumulation of magnetic switch algorithms and software experience, offering a fresh start.

By then, however, the magnetic switch market had already gone through multiple intense rounds of competition. During this period, NuPhy also experimented with price-war tactics. Some magnetic switch versions were priced to the point of feeling like “buy the switches, get the keyboard free,” especially since upstream suppliers were aggressively controlling switch pricing at the time. But this model—driving sales primarily through switch pricing—had already been played out by many manufacturers in the mechanical keyboard market years earlier. NuPhy knew full well that such tactics could only serve as a temporary stopgap and were unsustainable for long-term brand development. Recently, the company has been working on new magnetic switch keyboards, hoping they might help NuPhy secure at least a modest share of this market.

Another brand I want to talk about may surprise quite a few readers—yet on reflection, it also makes perfect sense: Rapoo.

Rapoo

In the minds of many, Rapoo has long seemed like a relatively low-end peripheral brand. In reality, however, when viewed through the lens of technical depth and supply-chain capability, Rapoo is very much a “major peripherals manufacturer.” In recent years, Rapoo made a striking breakthrough with its VT series mice, demonstrating formidable strength in supply-chain integration and esports-oriented tuning. While the success of Rapoo’s mice still relies heavily on price competitiveness, the VT series—both in terms of R&D investment and real-world product experience—has emerged as a new force in the domestic esports mouse space. At the very least, it proves that Rapoo can integrate high-end sensors and components at extremely competitive prices, and that its R&D teams are capable of deep involvement in hardware and firmware tuning for esports peripherals. Yet its core brand has long been constrained by a “value-for-money” perception, making it difficult to command premiums in the high-end market.

So when faced with the market reshuffle brought about by magnetic switches, Rapoo made a bold choice: it launched keyboards based on inductive switches. This was something most peripheral manufacturers would not dare to imagine, let alone attempt—or successfully execute. There is no doubt that Rapoo poured substantial resources into this effort, even launching a dedicated sub-brand, aesco. This was not a superficial rebranding exercise, but a genuine investment of capital and talent.

From Rapoo’s perspective, along the mainstream magnetic-switch path, core algorithms, firmware optimization, and even switch design had already been captured by a small number of early movers and top-tier switch suppliers. Inductive switches, simply by avoiding monopolization and securing control over core technologies, already offered significant strategic advantages. On another level, Rapoo’s main brand had long been trapped by its “cost-performance” image, unable to break into the high-end market. By leveraging inductive switches and launching a new sub-brand focused on technology and hardcore performance, Rapoo was attempting a high-end transformation through a functional differentiation strategy. Finally, Rapoo’s decision to pursue inductive switches instead of magnetic switches may also have been based on internal technical assessments that identified potential advantages in inductive technology.

Yet the outcome we see today is far from what Rapoo had hoped for. Inductive switches failed to achieve the expected success and at one point faded almost entirely from view. The aesco sub-brand, into which Rapoo had invested so heavily, also failed to fulfill its mission of propelling Rapoo into the high end. This localized setback quickly evolved into a deeper, systemic issue—a failure of strategic linkage across product lines. Although Rapoo’s VT series flourished in the mouse market, proving its technical and supply-chain strength, that success could not be effectively transferred to the keyboard category. The core reason lies in Rapoo’s choice of a non-mainstream inductive-switch path, and its failure to pivot in time toward the mainstream Hall-effect magnetic-switch solution after the market response turned unfavorable. As a result, Rapoo lacked a flagship product in the magnetic-switch keyboard segment—the very area with the greatest traffic and functional focus.

Rapoo was effectively absent from the magnetic-switch keyboard boom. Its powerful supply-chain and R&D capabilities failed to find an outlet in the category where they most needed to be showcased. This failure to establish a high-end image, in turn, fed back negatively into the mouse lineup, limiting Rapoo’s ability to launch higher-margin mid- to high-end products or to credibly “flex its muscles” with ultra-flagship offerings. In the esports peripherals ecosystem, high-end images for mice and keyboards reinforce each other. Consumers expect a brand that can deliver extreme performance and cutting-edge technology across multiple categories. Put bluntly, Rapoo’s failure in its magnetic-switch strategy has evolved from a setback with inductive switches into a systemic obstacle in its broader high-end transformation. As for whether inductive switches or magnetic switches are ultimately superior, that technical debate is beyond the scope here—both still have substantial, foreseeable room for development.

If we were to summarize why NuPhy or Rapoo stumbled, there would be much to unpack. On the micro level, we could dissect firmware iteration speeds for the Field75 HE, cost differences between aesco’s inductive switches and Hall-effect switches, or the delayed launch of the NuPhy IO driver. On the corporate level, the magnetic-switch test amplified existing issues: NuPhy’s supply-chain constraints rooted in its own organizational limitations, or Rapoo’s long-standing brand image being too deeply intertwined with low-end and internet-café markets.

Yet none of these points—whether product-level flaws or broader corporate ailments—strike at the true core. That core lies in a brand’s stance toward the magnetic-switch market itself: its understanding of what truly matters in this market, and its determination to commit resources accordingly.

The “feel” and “brand equity” that traditional manufacturers once treated as moats are rapidly losing their effectiveness in this new world of magnetic switches—one driven by absolute metrics and competitive outcomes. Sometimes, standing too high makes it harder to notice the ice beneath your feet quietly melting.

And that brings us to our next topic—the new games, the new tickets, and the new hands being dealt.

New Games, New Tickets, New Hands

Resources explain why things happen. But power structures explain who makes them happen.

If the former determines the inevitability of the magnetic switch era, then the latter determines where this wave ultimately flows. Technology, traffic, channels, costs—these once-separate forces have converged into valves of profit, and in the process, the roles and positions of every node along the industry chain have been quietly reshuffled.

To truly understand why magnetic switch keyboards achieved explosive growth between 2023 and 2025, we must pull our perspective away from any single brand and look instead at the broader industry map: who controls upstream resources? Who defines performance standards? Who controls distribution and public discourse? And who is recombining these forces?

In the traditional mechanical keyboard market, power was concentrated in brands—those who owned design, channels, and marketing. The emergence of magnetic switches not only strengthened switch manufacturers like Gateron and Kailh with direct-to-consumer capabilities, but also elevated previously overlooked solution providers (such as XingShan Yuedong) onto the table where power is negotiated.

In fact, the development of chip solutions for traditional mechanical keyboards had long been relatively slow, for a simple reason: for years, players generally placed low demands on keyboard input performance, leaving limited room for differentiation.

Magnetic switches changed that. They made the solution itself a core component of performance. This also explains why, in the early explosive phase of magnetic switches, products from small studios were able to stand out and seize early market opportunities. Those young creators—talented, passionate about gaming, and well-funded—displayed remarkable creativity and execution during this wave, and I genuinely admire that.

But as the front lines stretched and competition shifted into a contest of scale and supply chains, their advantages often proved difficult to sustain. When facing seasoned factory veterans, small studios struggle to compete long-term in production capacity, cost control, sustained iteration, and channel dominance. Setting aside all the talk of “business warfare,” I think the most essential truth may simply be this: excellence does not always equate to success.

Whether it was the custom keyboard studios of earlier years or today’s so-called “obsessive magnetic switch keyboards,” raw excellence often bred arrogance—leading to conflicts with customers and even widespread poor business practices. Behind this sense of superiority lies, in reality, a disregard for the industry itself. By contrast, the factory old hands may lack flair, but they have one thing others don’t: the ability to endure—perseverance, patience, and a deep understanding of how business rules actually work.

In the end, these core powers are ceded to those who better understand the mechanics of commerce. And it is precisely these powers that grant upstream players the authority to issue the tickets for entry into the game.

Whether a product is seen, believed, and ultimately paid for depends on how downstream channels and promotion distribute traffic, shape narratives, and complete the final conversion.

Let’s start with the channels closest to us as players. Over the past few years, whether it was the explosive rise of livestream commerce or earlier models like Pinduoduo, both have fundamentally reshaped how the keyboard industry thinks about sales channels.

Traditional e-commerce platforms—especially JD.com—have long been the main battlefield for male-oriented consumer electronics. Their core logic is classic shelf-based commerce: product pages, spec comparisons, and brand trust form a relatively rational but lengthy decision path. Users are often first “seeded” on content platforms, then head to JD to compare prices, perhaps browse reviews on Taobao, and only then place an order.

The rise of livestream commerce completely shattered this rhythm. Purchasing is compressed into a single scene: watch a demo, listen to the pitch, place the order. The conversion funnel shrinks from five steps to one, and the relative power of brands within channels is reshuffled accordingly.

At the same time, TikTok’s in-app shop ecosystem is opening up new breakout opportunities for mid-tier brands. Under traditional shelf-based e-commerce, ranking mechanisms, brand budgets, and accumulated reviews form natural barriers, allowing major brands to dominate for years. In algorithm-driven livestream and short-video environments, however, traffic becomes more decentralized and more interest-oriented.

This means that emerging brands—those able to rapidly integrate off-the-shelf solutions and present them efficiently at relatively low cost—are, for the first time, gaining a realistic window to bypass the entrenched barriers of traditional giants and quickly capture market share.

On the promotion side, if the keyboard content ecosystem used to be a comfortable corner—small but precise traffic, limited in conversion scale—then the influx of hot money has naturally brought new competition. In my view, this is not necessarily a bad thing. The breaking out of the keyboard content ecosystem benefits users; it is better than a stagnant, self-satisfied niche.

Correspondingly, gaming creators command massive, young, and emotionally driven audiences. Magnetic switches became the perfect justification for consumption upgrades, enabling a wholesale replacement under the narrative of “faster, stronger.” Sales figures have proven that magnetic switches truly did break out of their original circle.

But another side has gradually emerged as well. When products are placed into higher-frequency, more emotionally charged content environments, what gets repeatedly amplified and consumed is not only performance selling points, but controversy itself. Overwhelming waves of public-opinion crises are becoming the norm. This is because the performance narrative around magnetic switches is, in truth, extremely fragile. Once performance fails to meet expectations—or is “debunked” by competitors—the narrative and the trust behind it can collapse almost instantly.

Many brands move large volumes quickly through streamer traffic, yet lack the after-sales and customer support systems of traditional brands. When product issues erupt, responsibilities among channels, brands, and solution providers become blurred, creating significant hidden risks.

All of the phenomena discussed above ultimately point not to any single technology, but to long-standing issues of business ethics and responsibility boundaries within the keyboard industry.

They create exceptionally fertile ground for profit-driven actors who lack long-term content investment, brand accumulation, and product self-discipline, yet are eager to cash out quickly. These players are often both direct beneficiaries of disorder within the industry chain and active amplifiers of repeated public-opinion crises.

And this is precisely where the magnetic switch industry game becomes truly brutal:

Being seen is, in itself, a form of power; being discussed repeatedly is a high-risk privilege.

For now, this is where the market analysis of magnetic switches will pause. There are still many subjects worth exploring but left untouched—for example, brands like Keychron. Although their magnetic switch products have limited presence in the domestic market, overseas they have already built a non-negligible sales scale and product matrix, and in a certain sense, possess the qualifications to seriously discuss “in-house development” and long-term technical roadmaps. However, due to the limited scope of my own cooperation and communication with the brand, it would be difficult to offer a sufficiently informed, targeted discussion, so I will refrain from doing so here.

As for those brands whose sales have already reached phenomenon-level status, there is little need for me to elaborate—readers will have their own judgments. In keeping with the writing boundaries and value stance I have consistently maintained, I will not comment on them one by one here. Live and let live; may we all mind our own waters.

A Fork in the Road

So—will magnetic switches become the next MX?

Peeling away the layers of commercial noise and returning to the original question, after visiting factories, speaking with brands, and observing the power reshuffles and channel transformations behind this technological wave, my answer is actually quite clear: no.

Whether you attribute it to the dividends of an era or to industrial opportunity, what truly established MX’s towering status was never extreme performance, but its unparalleled universality and compatibility. It accompanied countless players through their youth in dimly lit internet cafés, and late at night, it could just as easily become a writer’s most reliable input tool. MX became a standard precisely because it could adapt to almost any scenario.

Magnetic switches, by contrast, are less an “upgrade” to MX than a process of extraction. With near thunderous force, they isolate the core attribute of competitive gaming from the body of the mechanical keyboard and amplify it to an extreme.

For that very reason, my intuitive judgment is this: the explosive rise of magnetic switch keyboards is not, in essence, a comprehensive upgrade of mechanical keyboards, but a re-consolidation of the concept of the “gaming keyboard.”

To be honest, for quite a long time I held clear reservations about magnetic switches. I once believed their use cases were too narrow, serving only a small group of gamers chasing peak performance; for the broader public, paying an added premium for that 0.1 mm of rapid stop or actuation travel offered very limited perceived value.

But over this period—through conversations with industry friends, visits to offline internet cafés, and observing the real-world setups of game boosting studios—my conclusion changed fundamentally.

I realized that even in scenarios where magnetic switch features are almost never used, as long as the word “gaming” is involved, magnetic switches have already become a necessary option. A magnetic switch keyboard is no longer merely an input device; it is the concrete embodiment of the abstract idea of the “gaming keyboard.”

A perfectly straightforward example is the internet café.

Imagine an internet café owner setting up a high-end private room. He will almost certainly choose a ZOWIE monitor, a flagship mouse from Logitech or Razer, and a magnetic switch keyboard. He cannot predict whether the customer who walks in wants to play Valorant, Black Myth: Wukong, or just a few casual rounds of League of Legends.

But for him, equipping a magnetic switch keyboard is not about whether it is “good to use,” but about having “no weak links.” Even if it is only for that 1% of high-demand players, or for the handful of games that are extremely sensitive to input, this is infrastructure that must be in place—because it defines the competitive ceiling of the machine.

The same logic applies to boosting studios. Even in games like Delta Force, where magnetic switch features are almost never actually used, many studios still outfit all their setups with magnetic switch keyboards.

The reason is simple: magnetic switches have become a symbolic standard of “professionalism.” And it is precisely here that magnetic switches have completely redefined what a “professional gaming keyboard” means.

In today’s context, a keyboard without RT functionality—no matter how good it feels—can never be considered complete in terms of its “gaming” identity.

Fate has a sense of irony. After many twists and turns, it was video games that revived the mechanical keyboard category in the first place; now, games have once again become the new ticket of entry. The difference this time is that magnetic switch keyboards are actively stripping the concept of “gaming” out of the broader mechanical keyboard category—and this trend is already clearly reflected in shifts in market share.

Looking back at more than two decades of domestic mechanical keyboard development, the first half of that journey revolved almost entirely around gaming and the internet café ecosystem, completing the initial accumulation of users. The second half, by contrast, was a continuous attempt to broaden usage scenarios—evolving new forms, nurturing the custom keyboard community, and striving to “de-game” the product, turning it into a more elegant, more universal symbol of desktop culture.

Now, as the category gradually exhausts its own foundations through uncontrolled expansion, and is forced by changing circumstances to look back toward the gaming market, that once “de-gamed” source of revival has become an unavoidable competitive threshold it must now look up to.

For some brands, the product-positioning anchors that once worked effortlessly, reused again and again without much thought, have completely collapsed. This is not the “original sin” of magnetic switches. Rather, it is the belated yet inevitable reckoning for years of trading long-term foundations for short-term profits, and evading sustained investment in technology and users through complacency.

Looking back, gaming keyboards have always been on the stage. And over the next decade, the real story will not be the battle between magnetic switches and MX, but whether brands are willing to confront themselves—and rediscover where they truly stand.

Magnetic switches are a mirror. They reflect not only the industry’s restlessness and anxiety, but also define the chips each participant brings to the table: sensitivity in product positioning, innovation and R&D capability, long-term investment in brand and content, channel and ecosystem strategy, and insight into user psychology.

There is no business that works forever, no shortcut that stays open indefinitely. The winners of the future will be those brands that dare to face the reflection, confront their shortcomings, and commit to long-term value. Magnetic switches may ultimately be nothing more than a footnote in this game—a reminder, a mirror held up to the industry, reflecting the true direction forward in a faint but telling light.

And finally, let’s talk about something slightly off to the side.

In the past, there were many products similar in spirit to magnetic switches, yet none achieved this level of success. The core reason is simple: their technological maturity and timing never resonated with the market’s hunger for extreme performance. On the other hand, there are products such as electrostatic capacitive keyboards that likewise failed to distill an equally sharp and concrete scenario label like “gaming keyboards.” At the root of it all, perhaps their greatest competitors were never here to begin with.

Still, none of this prevents these products from surviving in one form or another. In fact, electrostatic capacitive keyboards have been quite active in the custom scene this year. And for the custom keyboard world, magnetic switches have acted as a kind of crucible. I remember clearly that after the mechanical keyboard category took off, there was a period when many outsiders poured into the custom scene: small bosses who, constrained by resources, were “demoted” into custom competition, as well as young players drawn in by trends, eager to explore.

Today, however, both hot money and users have been redirected en masse toward the magnetic switch market, which has formed its own version of a “custom” ecosystem. Traditional custom circles are now much quieter than before—but as a result, a smaller, more focused, and more dedicated group of players has remained.

I think this may well be the ecological niche where custom keyboards truly belong. When speculators leave and the tide recedes, it returns to deep work on structure, design, and feel—requiring time, patience, and steady progress, built brick by brick.