Sarah Clarity Studios

Chapter 2: Suspensions, Bogies & Rocker‑Bogies

Created by Sarah Choi (prompt writer using ChatGPT)

Suspensions, Bogies & Rocker‑Bogies for Non‑Anthro & Exotic Mecha Frames

Suspension is the quiet hero of non‑anthropomorphic mecha design. It’s the part of the machine most viewers don’t consciously name, yet it’s the thing that makes the frame feel heavy, grounded, competent, and believable. When suspension is missing or unclear, your design can start to read like a paper cutout glued to wheels or tracks—sliding across terrain rather than interacting with it. When suspension is depicted well, the frame gains a sense of weight transfer, traction, and intent; it “talks” through its posture.

This article is about depiction: how to draw suspensions, bogies, and rocker‑bogies so they read instantly in concept art and remain useful in production. We’ll look at the most common needs for tracked, wheeled, arachnid, serpentine, and rolling frames, focusing on what to show, what to simplify, and how to encode motion logic into shapes that survive the pipeline.

Suspension as a readability system, not just an engineering detail

Before we break down mechanisms, it helps to reframe suspension as a design language. Suspension tells the audience three major things.

First, it tells them what kind of terrain the machine expects. Long travel, high clearance, and multi‑link articulation say “rough ground.” Low travel, tight packaging, and stiff geometry say “roads, decks, and interiors.”

Second, it tells them how the machine carries load—whether it’s a stable platform with gentle roll, or a lively machine that pitches and heaves under acceleration.

Third, it tells them how the machine maintains traction. Any locomotion system is only as good as its contact with the ground. Suspension is the method by which the frame argues with gravity and uneven terrain to keep that contact.

For concept artists, this means suspension is a powerful silhouette and gesture tool. For production artists, it means suspension is a rigging map: it defines pivot points, travel limits, compression states, and failure behavior.

The four visual cues that sell suspension in one glance

You can depict suspension with a high level of believability using four cues, even in stylized work.

One cue is an unmistakable pivot hierarchy. The viewer should feel that forces travel from ground contact into an arm, into a joint, into the chassis. You don’t need every bolt; you need a readable chain.

A second cue is a compression element—a strut, spring pack, torsion bar housing, elastomer block, hydraulic cylinder, or even a stylized “shock volume.” If there is no place for energy to go, the audience senses the machine can’t absorb impact.

A third cue is clear travel direction. Suspension moves along a path: up and down, forward and back, diagonally through a rocker, or through a swinging arm arc. Suggesting that path with negative space and arm geometry makes the motion legible.

A fourth cue is a stance change. Suspension is easiest to believe when you show at least one “loaded” state—one wheel climbing an obstacle, one bogie compressed, one leg braced. Even a small tilt in the chassis communicates weight.

If you encode these cues, your design reads as functional without drowning in mechanical detail.

Bogies: the modular language of grounded motion

A bogie is not just a wheel; it’s a cluster—a repeated unit that shares load and smooths terrain. Bogies are common in tracked vehicles, but the concept applies broadly: any time you repeat a small contact module along a frame, you’re using bogie logic.

Bogies read well because they create rhythm. Rhythm is important for concept art thumbnails, for animation cycles, and for game readability at distance. A bogie cluster gives your machine a “stride,” even if it doesn’t have legs.

When drawing bogies, the most important decision is whether they are independent (each unit reacts separately) or linked (a set moves together on a shared beam or rocker). Independent bogies feel agile and finely damped. Linked bogies feel rugged and simple, but they can also read as heavy and slow.

From a production standpoint, bogies are your friend because they encourage reuse. If your design has a clear bogie module, a 3D team can build it once and instance it. A rigging team can reuse constraints. A VFX team can predict where debris will throw from.

Rocker‑bogies: terrain compliance turned into a signature

Rocker‑bogie suspension is famous because it lets a vehicle keep wheels in contact over obstacles without complex springs, using levered geometry. In visual terms, rocker‑bogies read as smart terrain adaptation. They suggest a machine that expects irregular ground and has a controlled, methodical way of crossing it.

As a concept artist, you can use rocker‑bogie shapes as a strong identity element: the long rocker arm and the smaller bogie link create a silhouette that is instantly recognizable. As a production artist, rocker‑bogies provide a clean rigging logic: defined pivots, predictable arcs, and clear constraint relationships.

To depict rocker‑bogies convincingly, emphasize the lever geometry. Show a long arm anchored to the chassis, with a secondary link that supports the wheel pair. Then imply how load transfers through the arm. You don’t need to diagram the entire differential system; you just need the viewer to sense that the arms can “walk” over terrain.

A helpful rule of thumb for depiction is to make sure a rocker‑bogie design has a reasonably sized clearance triangle under the chassis. If the rocker arms imply traversal but the belly hangs low, the terrain competence read collapses.

Tracked frames: suspension inside the “track story”

Tracks are a continuous contact system, but their believability comes from the hidden dance underneath: rollers, bogies, springs, and tensioning. In concept art, tracks can easily become a flat band if you don’t suggest what’s supporting them.

A tracked suspension depiction starts with the track run shape. Even in stylization, the track should have a lower run that interacts with ground and an upper return run that’s either supported by rollers or hidden under a skirt. Then you choose how visible your bogies are.

If your design is meant to feel rugged and mechanical, expose bogie arms and road wheels. Let the audience see a repeating pattern: wheel, arm, wheel, arm. If your design is meant to feel sleek, you can shroud the system—but give it believable bulges, access panels, and occasional glimpses of rollers so it doesn’t read like a rubber belt.

Terrain logic for tracked suspensions centers on obstacle behavior. Tracks handle soft ground well, but they hate being high‑centered. Show an approach angle that climbs, a belly that slides, and a rear geometry that clears. If you want to sell suspension travel, show the track conforming over a rock with a subtle “step” in the lower run and a compressed bogie near the obstacle.

In production packages, tracked designs benefit from a simple suspension note: whether the track is animated as a moving texture, a joint‑driven belt, or a physically simulated chain. Your concept can support all approaches by keeping the logic readable and not over‑promising detail that the game can’t afford.

Wheeled frames: suspension is the proof of traction

Wheeled mecha live and die on suspension depiction because wheels make the audience judge instantly. If the wheels look rigidly bolted to the hull, the machine feels fake on any terrain that isn’t perfectly flat.

When designing wheeled suspensions, choose a family: swinging arms, double wishbones, MacPherson‑like struts, portal axles, or articulated chassis halves. The key is not the specific real‑world system—it’s that the viewer sees a path for compression and a place for travel.

A strong depiction approach is to build a wheel pod module. The pod includes the wheel, its housing, and a visible connection to the chassis. If you show a clean pivot at the pod root and a shock element, you’ve told the whole story. Then repeat the pod across axles to create consistency.

Rocker‑bogie wheeled designs are especially useful for exploration and “rough world” mecha. They communicate careful traversal, stable sensor platforms, and methodical climbing. If your mecha is fast and tactical, however, rocker‑bogies can make it feel slow. In that case, shorter travel arms and tighter packaging create a more aggressive, nimble read.

For production, the most valuable suspension notes for wheels are steering behavior and travel limits. If the front wheels steer, show the yaw joint. If the vehicle crab steers, show it on multiple axles. If it turns by articulation, show the chassis hinge and its protective shrouds.

Arachnid frames: “suspension” becomes compliance and damping

Arachnid mecha do not have suspension in the wheel sense, but they absolutely need compliance—the ability to absorb impact and maintain contact without vibrating like a toy. In legged frames, suspension is distributed across joints and foot pads.

To depict leg compliance, the most effective technique is to identify which joint functions like a shock absorber. Sometimes it’s an obvious piston near the “knee.” Sometimes it’s a flex mount near the hip. Sometimes it’s a springy tarsus. If you don’t indicate where damping occurs, the leg reads like a rigid crane.

Arachnid terrain logic also includes micro‑adjustment. Legs should look like they can “seek” contact. You can imply this by giving feet multi‑surface contact geometry—pads, toes, or segmented soles. This suggests the leg can settle into uneven ground rather than balancing on a point.

From a production perspective, leg compliance is often implemented with IK solvers and foot roll controls. Your concept can support this by keeping leg segment proportions consistent and by providing clear foot orientations. If you design wildly different legs with inconsistent pivots, you increase animation cost.

A useful depiction move is to show one leg in compression and one leg in extension in the same image. That single asymmetry sells weight transfer more than any amount of detail.

Serpentine frames: suspension is segment compliance and anchor logic

Serpentine machines distribute “suspension” across their body segments. The key question is: where does the body flex, and how does it manage contact pressure against the ground or walls?

If your serpentine frame moves with undulation, segment joints are your compliance system. Show joint housings that look like they can rotate under load, and show protective skirts or abrasion plates where the body would scrape.

If the serpent uses peristalsis or anchoring, suspension becomes the relationship between anchor nodes and moving segments. In that case, depict anchor pads as having a compressible layer or a mechanical clamp. The read should be: the machine can grip, absorb, and then release.

A common production‑friendly approach is to give serpentine frames a belly band of micro‑wheels or a concealed track strip. In depiction, this can look like a continuous “contact belt” running along the underside. If you do this, it becomes your suspension story: the belt has small compliance points and maintains contact while the body bends.

For documentation, serpentine frames need joint limit notes more than they need detailed springs. If each segment only rotates a little, the motion is smooth and controlled. If it rotates a lot, the machine can coil and climb—but the cable routing and armor gaps become a major design responsibility.

Rolling frames: suspension becomes braking, steering, and internal damping

Rolling mecha—spheres, barrels, and gyro‑driven shells—make suspension feel abstract, but it’s still there. If the machine is a rigid ball with no damping, it will bounce and skid like a toy. To make it feel engineered, you need to indicate how it controls contact with the ground.

One depiction strategy is to show an external contact band: a tread ring, a rubberized strip, or segmented pads around the shell. That band implies controlled traction and gives the viewer a place to imagine compression and grip.

Another strategy is to imply internal suspension: a stabilized core mounted on gimbals or shock mounts. You can depict this by showing maintenance cutaways, vents that suggest internal mass, or panel seams that imply a “nested” structure.

Rolling frames also benefit from mode states. If precision is required, the machine may deploy spikes, fins, or stabilizer arms. Those deployed parts become your “suspension” moment: they absorb and manage contact, allowing controlled stops and turns.

In production, rolling frames are often simpler than they look if you provide clear rules: where the contact band is, how it steers, and what visual cues show braking. If you do not, animation teams must invent logic, and the result may conflict with your intent.

Depiction tactics that make suspensions feel real without over‑rendering

Suspension depiction can become detail‑heavy fast. The goal is to show just enough structure that motion feels plausible.

One effective tactic is to separate suspension into three layers: primary geometry, secondary mechanism, and tertiary detail. Primary geometry is the big arm shapes and pivot housings. Secondary mechanism is the shock, spring, or damping element. Tertiary detail is hoses, fasteners, guards, and access panels.

In early ideation, you often only need primary geometry. In finals for production, you add secondary mechanism clearly. Tertiary detail is optional and should be dictated by camera distance, art style, and budget.

Another tactic is to use negative space to show travel. Leave a clear gap above a wheel for compression. Show an arm that has room to swing. If there’s no room, the viewer’s brain rejects the motion.

You can also sell suspension with wear and dirt placement. Dust accumulates where parts don’t move; clean scuffing appears where parts slide; mud cakes where cavities trap it. These are subtle cues that make mechanisms feel functional and grounded.

Shape language: suspension as faction and personality

Suspension can communicate faction identity the same way armor plates do. A utilitarian faction might have exposed arms, visible springs, and straightforward pivots. A high‑tech faction might have sealed pods and smooth fairings with only hints of internal motion. A brutalist faction might have thick, blocky rocker arms and oversized dampers that read as “overbuilt.”

Personality also matters. A frame that is meant to feel nervous and fast can have tight, compact suspensions and smaller travel. A frame meant to feel unstoppable can have tall travel and massive compliance volumes. Suspension is the “body language” of non‑anthro mecha.

Production handoff: what to include so the intent survives

Suspension concepts fail in production when the mechanism is pretty but undefined. Your handoff should include a few decisive clarifications.

Include a simple diagram of pivot points and travel direction. Include at least one “compressed” and one “extended” state. Provide a short note on steering behavior for wheeled or rolling frames. For tracked frames, clarify whether bogies are independent or linked and how many groups exist per side. For arachnids and serpents, clarify which joints are meant to be compliant and where damping is suggested.

Finally, provide a statement of terrain intent: what the suspension is built to handle. This helps designers tune movement and helps animation choose the correct weight transfer style.

Closing: suspension is the bridge between art and motion

Suspension, bogies, and rocker‑bogies are not optional technical garnish in non‑anthro frames—they are the bridge between your design and the world it lives in. When you depict suspension well, you give the audience traction reads, you give animation believable weight transfer, and you give production a clear set of constraints to build from.

A strong exotic frame can be summarized in one sentence: “This is how it touches the ground, and this is how it refuses to be stopped.” Suspension is the part of the drawing that makes that sentence true.