Pete's Expert Summary
My human has acquired a curious black contraption bristling with little sticks and switches, which he calls the "FLYSKY FS-i6X." From my observations, it is not a toy in itself, but rather a magic wand used to command other, more interesting objects from a distance—specifically, those noisy, flying monstrosities he calls drones. The device itself is rather dull plastic, though the twitching antennas and joysticks might offer a moment's batting practice. Its alleged "bidirectional communication" seems to mostly involve my human muttering at it. The true value of this object is not in its own form, but in its potential to animate a worthy opponent for me to hunt. Its success or failure hinges entirely on whether the flying thing it controls is more engaging than a sunbeam.
Key Features
- Please note: Flysky FS-i6X is default 6CH with FS-iA6B Receiver. If you have 10 channels receiver FS-iA10B, that you can open to 10 channels.
- Bidirectional Communication --- Capable of sending and receiving data, each transmitter is capable of receiving data from temperature, altitude and many other types of sensors, servo calibration and i-BUS Support
- Multi-channel Hopping Frequency --- This system bandwidth ranges from 2.408GHz to 2.475GHz. This is divided in 135 channels. Each transmitter hops between 16 channels (32 for Japanese and Korean version) in order to reduce interference from other transmitters.
- Omni-directional Gain Antenna --- The high efficiency Omni-directional high gain antenna cuts down on interference, while using less power and maintaining a strong reliable connection
- Low Power Consumption --- The system is built using highly sensitive low power consumption components, maintaining high receiver sensitivity, while consuming as little as one tenth the power of a standard FM system, dramatically extending battery life.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The affair began not with a bang, but with a click. My human, whom I permit to cohabitate with me, sat hunched over the coffee table, his attention utterly captured by this new black idol. He would flick a switch, and a small screen would glow with cryptic symbols. He would wiggle a stick, and nothing would happen. It was a pathetic ritual, a silent conversation between a fool and a brick. I watched from the arm of the sofa, my tail giving a slow, judgmental thump-thump-thump against the upholstery. This, I surmised, was the pinnacle of his intellectual pursuits: fiddling with a device that promised control but, for now, delivered only disappointment. Then, the symphony of annoyance began. He carried the plastic talisman outside to the patio, followed by a four-propeller beast that whined like a thousand trapped mosquitoes. With a delicate, clumsy push of a joystick on the FLYSKY controller, the beast lifted into the air. It was a horrid, graceless thing, lurching and bobbing as if yanked by the strings of an incompetent puppeteer. My human, the maestro of this cacophony, stared intently at his controller, his thumbs dancing a frantic, arrhythmic ballet on the gimbals. He thought he was a pilot, a commander of the skies. I saw him for what he was: a conductor of chaos, and the music was dreadful. This offense to my auditory senses could not stand. A direct assault on the buzzing creature was beneath me; that was the sort of thing a dog would do. The problem was not the instrument, but the player. I stalked from the doorway, a shadow of gray and white purpose. Leaping silently onto the back of his patio chair, I waited for the opportune moment. As the drone made a particularly nauseating dip, I reached out a single, perfect paw. I did not swat the controller from his hands. Instead, with the precision of a surgeon, I gently nudged the "omni-directional gain antenna." The effect was immediate. The connection, so robustly advertised, faltered for but a fraction of a second. The mosquito-drone hiccuped in mid-air, its whining pitch changing to one of panic before it tumbled unceremoniously into the soft embrace of a azalea bush. Silence descended, pure and golden. My human yelped in surprise, fumbling with his useless controller. I simply retracted my paw, began grooming it with an air of utter nonchalance, and purred. The FLYSKY controller was not a toy, I decided. It was a tool of power. And it was far too important to be left in the hands of an amateur.
