The Switch 2's Dock Isn't the Real Problem
Or, why we're all guilty of accepting broken ecosystems.
A recent video from Linus Tech Tips (LTT) highlights a frustrating puzzle with the Nintendo Switch 2: why won't it output video through third-party docks, when the original Switch eventually could?
The revelation from Linus Tech Tips (video and detailed post) that the Nintendo Switch 2 refuses to work with third-party docks looks like a classic example of how corporate strategy can create unnecessary consumer fragmentation. The core question isn't just technical but philosophical: did Nintendo break it on purpose, or did they just not care enough to fix it?
LTT landed on the term "tactical laziness," which perfectly captures a possible scenario: Nintendo's engineers were tasked solely with making their official dock work flawlessly. Ensuring universal USB-C compliance was simply not a priority, as it doesn't directly benefit them. The result is a murky middle ground that feels intentionally obstructive without the proof of being explicitly malicious.
This ambiguity is fueled by conflicting online narratives. Some commentators see a deliberate lockout strategy, while others point to legitimate technical hurdles like higher 4K bandwidth demands and the new dock's active cooling system. This defense rings hollow when we remember the original Switch’s rocky history with third-party docks, which often led to bricked consoles. In fact, that compatibility was seemingly discovered by accident by accessory makers, not granted by Nintendo. However, we can’t deny that Nintendo didn’t seem to actively block third parties once they discover how to make it work. Which then diminishes the lockout claim.
This history does suggest a pattern: Nintendo (and others) consistently prioritize control and margin over open ecosystems. By leaving USB-C implementation in a gray area, neither fully open nor completely locked down, they create confusion. Consumers, fearing they might break their expensive new console, are funneled towards the "safe," high-margin first-party option.
Beyond the Dock: Why Nintendo's Move is a Symptom of a Larger Tech Disease
Before we go further, a disclaimer: I have no insider knowledge of Nintendo's intentions, and my expertise does not lie in USB-C. So I won't pretend to diagnose their specific actions.
My true expertise, and the real subject of this post, is the crippling effect of ecosystem fragmentation. I see it daily in my field of glasses-free 3D, where the lack of a unified standard has paralyzed the entire industry. It's stuck in a limbo of failed potential: unable to achieve mainstream success, yet somehow persistent enough to avoid total failure. This stagnation is a fate worse than death for innovation.
Nintendo, of course, is not in that precarious position. They are a market leader who has masterfully carved out their own niche, catering to an audience (often families and children) that other platforms like Xbox and Playstation overlook. For them, a slightly walled garden isn't an existential threat; it's a business strategy.
But that’s precisely what makes this so frustrating. When a market leader chooses ambiguity over clarity, or closed ecosystems over open standards, it hurts everyone else. It hurts users, who are left with broken accessories and less choice. And it reveals a dark truth about our tech industry: specifications and standards are often just suggestions, secondary to a company's desire for control and revenue.
The dark truth is that a specification is only as universal as the biggest players allow it to be. And when those players choose fragmentation, everyone else pays the price.
The Myth of "Universal": Why USB Isn't Always What It Seems
There's no denying it: the Universal Serial Bus (USB) standard solved a massive problem. It rescued us from a tangled nightmare of proprietary connectors, simplifying our digital lives immensely. But the promise of its name "Universal" is often a myth. The specifications themselves contain fundamental cracks that manufacturers and consumers constantly fall into.
This fragmentation stems from two core issues:
The Impossibility of a "One-Size-Fits-All" Standard. The beauty of USB-C is also its curse: it's a single physical connector tasked with an enormous range of jobs, from charging a phone to outputting a 4K video signal. Products have vastly different needs, so companies use the standard connector in wildly different ways. Look at any USB-C dock: each has a different layout of ports, but the plug looks identical. In Nintendo's case, it appears the USB-C port is being used to enable or disable specific features like higher resolution output based on a hardware handshake. Creating a standard that is genuinely everything to everyone is an almost impossible challenge.
The Enforcement Gap. You can't just stick a USB logo on your product because the physical plug fits. Officially, you must be a member of the USB Implementers Forum (USB-IF) and certify your product. But in reality, this is avoided. A sprawling ecosystem of third-party manufacturers often skips this costly and tedious process. Many don't deliberately check what their cables and devices actually support; in the worst cases, they simply claim compatibility because the shape is the same, with no testing whatsoever.
This leaves us, the consumers, in a precarious position. Our choice is often a frustrating gamble:
Option A: Always buy first-party, certified components from the original manufacturer. They're more expensive, and while they can still fail, you're at least protected by a guarantee and the assurance of intended compatibility.
Option B: Take a chance on a cheaper third-party product, crossing your fingers that it implements the dizzying array of optional standards correctly.
The fact that things often work, especially for simple tasks like charging, masks the underlying problem. It doesn't mean the system is good; it only means it's not a total disaster. But when it fails, the fragility of this "universal" standard is exposed for all to see.
A Shared Blame: How Industry and Consumers Enable Fragmentation
In my experience, the root of this problem is that a proper, fully-spec-compliant implementation is a ton of work. And I know that executive teams often find compelling short-term reasons to avoid it: doing it right increases development costs, while the potential loss of a few disgruntled customers is easily outweighed by the massive profits from locked-in accessory sales and market control.
Companies like Nintendo, Apple, Microsoft, and Sony, all market leaders, can afford this kind of "strategic sloppiness." Their dominance creates a moat that protects them from consequences. You can't simply build a serious Switch 2 competitor because you can't get its games; the platform itself is the lock-in. This immense power allows them to treat universal standards as optional suggestions rather than mandatory requirements.
But let's be honest: we, as customers, are also complicit.
We demand lower prices and seamless experiences, yet balk at the true cost of the open, standardized ecosystems that could provide them. The only real pressure we can apply is to vote with our wallets and not buy these products. But let's face it: there is simply no collective will to do so. The allure of the platform and its exclusive experiences almost always outweighs our principled stance against anti-consumer practices.
So the cycle continues. Companies take shortcuts to maximize profit and control, knowing the backlash will be minimal. And we, frustrated yet compliant, continue to buy in, perpetuating the very system we love to criticize.
The Long-Term Cost of Strategic Sloppiness
Writing that last section left me genuinely disappointed, as it touches on a broader trend of "enshittification", where platforms degrade once they have a locked-in user base. Settling for the middle ground of "it mostly works" isn't just lazy; it's a poor long-term strategic move for three key reasons:
1. It Signals Incompetence, Not Control.
A company must choose a lane: either build a truly locked, walled garden or fully embrace the open standard. I'm no fan of closed systems, but I can respect a well-executed one that delivers a guaranteed, seamless experience. Conversely, a robust, spec-compliant open implementation demonstrates engineering excellence. A half-hearted, fragmented approach does neither. It simply signals that you lacked either the conviction to close the system or the competence to open it properly, damaging your brand's reputation for quality. Think about this: after 4 days, the video from LTT has 1.5M views. How many brands can survive such negative message to that many people?
2. It Squanders Simple Opportunities for Trust.
If genuine technical limitations exist, communication is a low-effort alternative to obscurity. A simple, clear message: "For optimal performance and to avoid potential issues (better if you list the issues), we recommend using a certified accessory" manages user expectations without resorting to lockouts. This approach respects the user's intelligence, embraces the spirit of an open protocol, and builds trust through transparency. Choosing silence instead creates frustration and erodes goodwill.
3. It Cedes Ground to More Determined Competitors.
While it's nearly impossible to dethrone a Nintendo or Apple overnight due to their immense ecosystem advantages, this is not true for most companies and products. In competitive markets, your differentiators are often slim. Sloppy integration, whether of a standard, a feature, or a user experience, is an open invitation for a competitor to invest that little bit of extra effort, do it right, and create a more appealing product. You may have saved on short-term R&D costs, but in the long run, you have ceded your market share and condemned your product to irrelevance.
In the end, strategic sloppiness isn't a strategy at all. It's a short-sighted gamble that trades immediate cost savings for long-term brand erosion, customer distrust, and competitive vulnerability.
Conclusion: The High Price of the Middle Ground
The situation with the Nintendo Switch 2’s USB-C port is more than a technical curiosity; it’s a perfect case study in the pitfalls of modern tech fragmentation. Whether born from malicious intent or tactical laziness, the outcome is the same: a confused ecosystem that prioritizes a company's short-term control over the user's long-term experience.
We've seen how the "universal" standard is anything but, how the industry's incentives are misaligned with building truly open products, and how we as consumers are often complicit in accepting this enshittified status quo. Nintendo, like other giants, is betting that their market position is unassailable enough to withstand the sloppiness. And they are likely correct.
But this is a dangerous gamble for many. The middle ground is a purgatory that offers the worst of all worlds: the frustration of a closed system without its guaranteed reliability, and the theoretical freedom of an open standard without its practical benefits. It erodes trust, stifles innovation, and ultimately leaves everyone (except perhaps the company’s accountants) worse off.
The path forward isn't easy. It requires companies to make a conscious choice: embrace openness with integrity and competence, or build a truly superior closed system and justify its value. And it requires us, the users, to be more discerning with our wallets, to support those who build well instead of those who simply build walls.
In the end, the goal shouldn’t be to have a drawer full of cables that all fit, but devices that all work. Until companies stop seeing standards as something to circumvent rather than uphold, we’ll remain stuck in this fragmented, frustrating middle ground.