Sprocket threads your operations through a projector. Every metric is a cell on the strip, captioned where it sits and advanced on one shared sprocket — a control room you read like a screening.
Drag the reel. Each capability is a cell that snaps into the gate — sequenced left to right like film, never stacked as identical dashboard tiles.
Feeds arrive as frames and lock to one sprocket. Nothing floats; everything has a place on the strip.
Annotations ride the frame they describe — a caption beside the curve, a cue under the readout.
Pause any cell in the gate and read it full size, registration ticks and all, without losing the run.
Edits are takes. Every cut is logged on the cue sheet so the print and the notes never drift apart.
Mount the whole reel on a light table to scan the run as a sheet of cells at a glance.
Tabular mono and an optical serif put the operational figures where the narration can reach them.
A literary lede paired with a dark cue track — the projection-booth structure, borrowed into the product.
For nine reels the floor ran on faith and forward correction. Sprocket kept the narration on the print and the operators' notes on the same sprocket, frame-locked — so the story and the numbers stayed in sync.
Sprocket gives operations a projection booth: one sprocket, captioned cells, and a print that holds through the dissolve.