Logitech MX Keys S Review: The Office Standard

The Desperate Need to Look Busy

You know why you’re here. You’ve been staring at your screen for six hours, and you haven’t written a single line of code or a single coherent email. You feel empty. You feel unproductive. So, naturally, you opened Amazon to buy something.

You convinced yourself that your $20 Dell membrane keyboard is the problem. “If only I had the MX Keys S,” you mutter, wiping Cheeto dust on your pants, “I would be a 10x developer. I would be efficient.”

This is the lie Logitech sells you. They sell you “Flow” and “Smart Actions” and “Mastery.” They sell you the fantasy that a slab of aluminum and plastic will turn you into a productivity god. Spoiler alert: it won’t. You’ll just be a procrastinator with a nicer slab.

The Comparison: Logitech vs. Keychron B6 Pro

If you are actually reading this review to save money, let me save you sixty dollars right now.

The Keychron B6 Pro exists. It is $45. It is wireless. It connects to everything.

Here is the “scientific” breakdown:

• The Feel: The Logitech feels like a Mercedes door closing. The Keychron feels like a Tupperware lid. Logitech uses a metal plate; Keychron uses whatever plastic was left over from making their other keyboards.
• The Keys: Keychron’s keycaps are flat, slippery little tiles. Logitech’s are scooped (“spherically dished”) to hug your fingertips. It sounds minor until you type for 8 hours and realize the Keychron feels like tapping on a kitchen counter.
• The Lights: Keychron has no backlight. None. Zero. You want to type in the dark? Buy a lamp. Logitech has smart backlighting that turns on when your hands approach. It’s cool, until it drains the battery in 10 days while the Keychron lasts for eight months.

The Verdict: If you need to feel important, buy the Logitech. If you just need to type, buy the Keychron and spend the rest on a therapy session for why you need retail therapy to feel productive.

The Heavy Metal Frisbee

I’ll give it this: if you get mad and throw this thing at your intern, they are going to the hospital. The MX Keys S is surprisingly heavy. It’s got a metal plate inside that makes it feel stiff, premium, and dangerous. It doesn’t flex. It sits on your desk like it owns the place.

The keys themselves are “spherically dished,” which is marketing speak for “we put a little dent in them so your greasy fingers don’t slip.” And honestly? It feels nice. It’s the kind of “nice” that feels expensive but not exciting. It’s the beige cardigan of tactile experiences.

The Learning Curve of Sadness

The friction here isn’t the typing; the typing is easy. The friction is realizing you spent $110 on a non-mechanical keyboard. You put your hands on it, and it feels… familiar. Too familiar. It feels exactly like the laptop you have hooked up to your monitor.

You start to wonder: “Did I just buy a docking station for my fingers?” Yes. Yes, you did. There is no joy here. No “thock.” No satisfying clatter. Just the muted thud-thud-thud of corporate compliance.

Typing Into the Void

Daily use of the MX Keys S is a lesson in submission. The keys have barely any travel. You tap them, and they bottom out instantly. It’s fast, sure. It’s quiet, definitely. But it’s soulless. It’s like typing on a dead fish.

And then there’s the backlight. Logitech calls it “Smart Illumination.” It’s supposed to sense your hands and light up like a loyal dog welcoming you home. Instead, it’s a gaslighting nightmare. You reach for a drink? It lights up. You actually want to type? It goes dark. It turns off so aggressively to save battery that you’ll find yourself waving your hands over it like a wizard trying to cast a spell just to see the damn “F” key.

The Software That Hates You

Logi Options+. Or as I call it, “Why is this 500MB?”

You install it because you want to change the function keys. You want to make the “Emoji” key do something useful, like “Mute System” or “Order Pizza.” But to do that, you have to invite a piece of software onto your computer that acts like a Bitcoin miner. It’s slow. It crashes. It asks for permissions it shouldn’t need.

And the “Smart Actions”? Macros. They invented macros. Congratulations, Logitech, you discovered a feature from 1995 and gave it a marketing budget. You can set it up to “Open Zoom + Slack + Chrome” with one button, saving you exactly three seconds that you will immediately waste scrolling Twitter.

The Expensive Slab of Reality

Let’s talk durability. The keycaps are ABS plastic. That means in six months, they will shine like a polished bald head. Your “W”, “A”, “S”, and “D” keys (or let’s be real, “Ctrl”, “C”, and “V”) will look oily and gross no matter how much you wash your hands.

The battery life is… fine. If you turn off the backlight (which you should, because it sucks), it lasts five months. If you leave it on, it lasts 10 days. That’s a massive gap. It’s like a car that gets 500 miles per gallon downhill and 2 miles per gallon uphill.

The Mob Speaks

The internet has thoughts, and for once, the mob isn’t wrong.

r/logitech users are losing their minds over the backlight. They report that the “Smart Illumination” is dumber than a bag of hammers, refusing to sleep even when the computer is off, draining the battery while ghosts type your novel (Thread).

Others are screaming about the proximity sensors failing, meaning you have to physically smack a key to get it to light up, defeating the entire point of the fancy sensors (Thread).

And the general consensus is brutal: unless you absolutely need the new secure “Bolt” dongle, this is a pointless upgrade. It’s the same keyboard as the old one, but now the software is worse (Thread).

Even on YouTube, reviewers like Just Josh have to admit that while it feels “premium,” the battery life with backlighting is a joke compared to competitors (Video).

The community agrees: It feels great, but it breaks your heart with the little things. Just like your ex.