Published on 5/25/2025 · 11 min read
For years, I typed on Apple’s Magic Keyboard, and never questioned using another type of keyboard, until I came across split keyboards, randomly through a friend. Before that, I never got convinced by the ergonomic keyboards I ran into: they would usually feature a slight curve in their key layout and some wrist pads. Yet seeing a keyboard truly split in two parts, along with column-staggered layout, I started digging into the world of ergonomics, a world much deeper than what I imagined. I began understanding the discomfort I’ve been maintaining so far. After long coding or writing sessions, my shoulders ached, hunched posture forced by the keyboard’s narrow layout. My hands, cramped together, seemed to amplify tension rather than productivity. Moreover, despite years of typing, I still found myself glancing down at the keys, struggling to build muscle memory. The excessive key travel and staggered rows meant my fingers had to wander too far, breaking my flow.
So it was time for a change. Split keyboards promised relief by letting my hands rest at a natural shoulder-width distance, but the pre-built options were either prohibitively expensive (like the $300+ Moonlander or Advantage360) or bulky (such as the Glove80, which seems fantastic but hardly portable). Frustrated, I stumbled upon the vibrant world of DIY mechanical keyboards, and it felt like a revelation.
The community had already solved my problem. Dozens of open-source keyboard designs existed, with passionate builders sharing schematics, firmware, and modding tips. After weeks of research, I fell for the Ferris Sweep: a sleek, ultra-compact and minimalist 34 keys split keyboard with a column-staggered layout designed for ergonomic typing. It checked every box—portable, cheap to make, and painstakingly optimized for efficiency.
Building it myself wasn’t just a cost-saving hack; it was a deep dive into a hobby that blends engineering, ergonomics, and sheer creativity. Here’s why I chose it, how I built it, and what I’ve learned after a year of daily use.
The Ferris Sweep Bling LP, from David Barr based on the work from Pierre Chevalier, wasn’t just another keyboard, it was a deliberate answer to my ergonomic and practical needs. Here’s why it stood out:
1. Ergonomics, Optimized
The split design freed my hands to rest at a natural shoulder-width distance, eliminating the shoulder strain I’d endured with traditional keyboards. Paired with an ortholinear, column-staggered layout, it minimized finger stretching by aligning keys to my fingertips’ natural movement.
2. Ultra-Portable, Ultra-Sleek
With only 34 keys and low-profile Choc switches, the Sweep’s entire body sits under 22mm tall. It’s lightweight and compact, making it easy to toss in my bag and to fit anywhere, even on cramped coffee shop tables. I 3d-printed two custom cases that adds minimal bulk while protecting the internals: a long but thin one and a smaller but thicker one.
3. A Community-Backed Build
From firmware tweaks to Bluetooth mods, the Ferris Sweep’s open-source roots meant I wasn’t alone. Forums and GitHub repos overflowed with keymap inspiration, troubleshooting tips, and even hardware upgrades (like my eventual leap to wireless). That safety net gave me confidence to tinker.
4. Budget-Friendly Minimalism
While Choc switches cost more than Cherry MX, the Sweep’s radical minimalism helps bringing costs down. For under $150, I built a keyboard that rivaled $300+ pre-built splits.
Building your own keyboard is a rare chance to craft a tool that fits your exact needs—but with so many options, it’s worth reflecting on what truly matters to you. Here’s a breakdown of key factors to weigh before diving in:
Since ergonomics drove my search, I focused solely on split keyboards, but even within that category, choices abound:
I built two versions of the Ferris Sweep Bling LP: a wired home setup and a Bluetooth travel companion. Below are the components for one build (total: ~$140 wired / ~$150 wireless), with notes on where I saved or splurged:
Socketing Controllers:
Battery:
Wired or wireless?:
Cases Matter:
(For a full build guide, see Kyek’s YouTube tutorial.)
When I first started to use my 34 key Ferris Sweep, I stared at the bare PCB like it was a puzzle. How would I code without dedicated keys for numbers or symbols? But the open-source community came to the rescue, with many keymaps I could draw inspiration from. My main use case is coding, so I focused my keymap on facilitating Vim motions and access to symbols. My current keymap can be found here for QMK and here for ZMK.
The adaptation was shockingly fast:
Shift
, Ctrl
, etc. under ASDF/JKL;). No more pinky gymnastics for Shift
and Ctrl
!J+K
for Esc
, E+R
for Tab
, U+I
for Caps Lock
, Space+Backspace
for Enter
, …) and tap-dance (double-tap thumbs for layer toggles).Speed wasn’t the goal, endurance was. Mission accomplished:
It’s not perfect, but the tradeoffs were worth it for me:
Tab
/Enter
or Shift
.The Ferris Sweep forced me to type smarter, not harder. A year later, I’d choose it again for its portability, ergonomics, and the joy of a truly personalized tool. But if you game often or need heavy language support, other keyboards might suit you better.
Building the Ferris Sweep was my gateway into the vast, endlessly creative world of keyboard ergonomics, a world I now realize I’ve only begun to explore. From tenting to curved key wells, or even mounting halves on my chair’s arms, there’s so much left to experiment with. But one lesson stands above all: our default keyboards are relics of the past, and settling for them means ignoring decades of ergonomic progress.
The biggest bottleneck to comfort and speed isn’t just the keyboard’s shape: it’s the QWERTY layout itself. Designed to slow down typists on mechanical typewriters, it forces awkward finger movements that even the best ergo boards can’t fully fix. Switching to Colemak or Dvorak feels inevitable now, though I’ve hesitated (thanks to occasional laptop use). But someday soon, I’ll take the plunge—because why optimize the hardware without refining the software?
Let’s be honest: soldering diodes and tweaking firmware isn’t for everyone. But if you spend hours daily at a computer, investing in a split ergonomic keyboard (DIY or pre-built) is one of the highest-return upgrades you can make. Shoulder pain, wrist strain, and inefficiency aren’t inevitabilities: they’re design failures we’ve tolerated for too long.
The Ferris Sweep taught me that typing shouldn’t hurt. It shouldn’t feel like a chore. And with a little curiosity, it can even become a joy. So to anyone still pecking at a flat, cramped keyboard: your hands deserve better.
(Want to start your own journey? Check out the open-source Ferris Sweep repo or communities like r/ErgoMechKeyboards.)