Towne Crier, by ITMedic · Snoqualmie, Washington
Hear ye: nothing on this page is a slide deck. Every tile below is the real board software, running live, in whatever browser you open it in. The first one is our town's actual board; the rest are the same product wearing eight different rooms.
The showroom
Each QR opens the same reel — scan one with your phone, or open the link on the browser of the TV in your own lobby and watch it fill the wall. Demo reels air fictional sample content and say so on every board.
Snoqualmie's real community board: weather, roads, ferries, school sports, local news, games the whole valley plays, and neighbors on Speaker's Corner.
A clinic's front wall: vaccines, insurance-card nudges, refill notice, MyChart sign-up, satisfaction line, and King County public-health news.
The same pack, re-dressed for a practice: cleaning recalls, new-patient welcome, nervous-visit reassurance, whitening and night-guard answers.
The reader board's ancestral home, with live data: party welcomes, Wi-Fi and breakfast, the airport shuttle's next run, tonight's function rooms.
A restaurant, taproom or cafe front of house: today's special, what's on tap, tonight's band — and a board that knows, right now, whether the kitchen is still open.
The same pack as the dining room, re-poured for a cafe: today's pastry, what's on the bar, the early bird — and whether the kitchen is still on at two in the afternoon.
For a house that makes what it pours: the tap list with ABV and price, the flight, the growler ladder — drawn in cartoon flaps — and a brew-day board that changes on its own as the batch moves from kettle to fermenter to your glass.
A show run by the venue clock: happening now, starting soon, booth spotlights, sponsor walls, and a Live-From-The-Floor feed attendees post to.
The front counter's greatest hits: who to call for a permit, how to pay a utility bill, when the next council meeting sits, and which Monday the offices are shut. The meeting, news and jobs boards read the city's own website — so nobody at city hall ever types into it, and a holiday closure on the city's calendar overrules the hours posted on the door.
Beyond the board
The same flaps, a whole screen of them: all 118 elements, made for a library, museum or science-center lobby. Open it in the browser on the TV and it runs itself.
The table flips through view after view — families, melting point, where each element was forged in the cosmos, what it does in the body and in medicine, how much the world mines and who sells it — while a spotlight walks the elements one at a time with photographs, emission lines, a turning crystal cell and trade figures. Atomic weights come from IUPAC's CIAAW, spectra from NIST, production from the USGS, and every photo is credited.
And its sister screen, for the same lobbies: the molecules those elements build, turning slowly in three dimensions.
Hundreds of molecules and crystals in twenty families — the air we breathe, the flavors of the kitchen, vitamins, medicines, plastics, and record-breaking shapes like the soccer-ball carbon cage. Each one's name flips in on the flaps while a 3D model turns beside a panel saying what it is, what it's made of and where you meet it.
No flaps at all
A carved grandfather clock that keeps real time and puts on a different show every hour. Leave it on any screen all day, or switch it on from the control panel and it visits the board for one show at the top of the hour.
Out comes the Towne Crier with a prop or a gag, or a Pacific Northwest animal in his place: an elk bugling, a rooster, an owl, a chorus frog, even a zebra. A Sheltie follows a beat behind, zebras peek from their doors, Snoqualmie Falls surges in the base, and the valley train runs the track — unless it is an emergency vehicle, or the elk herd. Every show is over in thirty seconds, and half past brings a tune.
Try it on your own wall
Open any reel above on the TV in your lobby — a smart TV's browser or an inexpensive streaming stick is plenty (the screens guide walks through it). It costs nothing to try. Let it run through lunch and watch whether anybody asks "hey, what's that?" If you like what you see, book fifteen minutes and we'll build the board for your room — your name, your feeds, your town.