Vintage Remote Control Gets Bluetooth Upgrade

This swanky Magnavox remote is old enough to predate the use of infrared, and actually relies on ultrasound to communicate with the television. It’s a neat conversation starter, but not terribly useful today. Which is why [Chad Lawson] decided to gut the original electronics and replace it with a Adafruit Feather 32u4 Bluefruit LE that can actually talk to modern devices.

We know, we know. Some in the audience will  probably take offense to such a cool gadget being unceremoniously torn apart, but to be fair, [Chad] does say he has a second one that will remain in its original state. Plus a quick check on eBay shows these old remotes don’t seem to be particularly rare or valuable. In fact, after some browsing through the recently concluded auctions, we’re fairly sure he paid $27 USD for both of these remotes.

Anyway, [Chad] found that a piece of perfboard in his collection just happened to be nearly the same size as the PCB from the remote, which made the rest of the conversion pretty straightforward. He simply had to mount tactile switches on one side of the perfboard so the remote’s original buttons would hit them when pressed, and then wire those to the Adafruit on the other side. We know there’s a 3.7 V 500 mAh pouch battery in there someplace as well, though it’s not immediately clear where he hid it in the images.

The code [Chad] came up with tells the Adafruit to mimic a Bluetooth Human Interface Device (HID) and send standard key codes to whatever device pairs with it. That makes it easy to use as a media remote on the computer, for example. We’ve seen something similar done with the ESP32, if you’ve already got one in the parts bin and are looking to revamp a remote control of your own.

At the end of the write-up, [Chad] mentions he may try developing an ultrasonic receiver that can pick up the signals from the unmodified remote control. That would be a nice way to bring this whole thing full circle, and should appease even the most hardcore vintage remote control aficionados.

3D Zoetrope Uses Illusion To Double The Frames

Although film and animation have come quite a long way, there’s still something magical about that grandaddy of them all, the zoetrope. Thanks to persistence of vision, our eyes are fooled into seeing movement where there is none, only carefully laid-out still pictures strobing under the right lighting.

After four months of research, CAD, prototyping, and programming, [Harrison McIntyre] has built a 3D zoetrope that brings a gif to glorious physical life (video, embedded below). All the image pieces are printed and move under a fancy backlight that [Harrison] borrowed from work. It works essentially the same as a 2D zoetrope, as long as you get the spacing juuuuust right. 360° divided by 20 frames comes out to 18° per frame. So a motor spins the disk around, and every 18°, the light pulses for one millisecond and then turns off until the next frame is in position.

The really interesting thing is that there are actually more than 20 frames at play here. If you follow a single character through the loop, it takes 46 frames to complete the animation thanks to something 3D zoetrope pioneer [Kevin Holmes] dubbed ‘animation multiplexing‘, which in [Harrison]’s example, is easily explained as a relay race in which all runners run their section at the same time, creating the illusion of constant motion.

There’s more than one way to use a 3D printer to create a zoetrope, and we doubt we would have ever thought of this one that squashes four dimensions into three.

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Dumping 90’s Honda ECU Programming With Arduino

[P1kachu] owns a pair of early 1990’s Honda’s with custom tuning on their stock ECUs, and after having to get the ECU repaired on his ’93 civic, he found himself going down the rabbit hole of Honda ECU EPROM chips.

During the repair process, the tuning shop owner, or [Tuner-san] as [P1ikachu] refers to him, made a backup of the custom tuning to another EPROM chip.  This was done with an old Advantest R4945A EPROM programmer, which [Tuner-san] supposedly also used to clone Famicom cartridges back in the day. After realizing that [Tuner-san] could only clone the contents, but not view or modify it, he started looking at ways to do that.

EPROMS are programmed using higher voltage (12.5 V – 25 V) but to read them 5 V is used. The memory address is selected by setting each of the 15 address pins high or low, and then reading the status of the 8 data pins to extract one byte of data. Rinse and repeat for each of the 256 memory addresses on the Microchip 27C256 EPROM. One of the previous owners of [Pikachu]’s Civic made some unknown tuning changes, so he is in the process of looking at the dumped data to see what was changed. Once he has completed figuring out the programming table of the EPROM, he plans to do some testing with [Tuner-san] to possible smooth out the rev limited.

An interesting aspect of EPROMs is that they are erased using UV light, which sets all the memory bits to 1. During programming, selected bits can be set to 0, but it’s not possible to set them back to 1 without erasing the entire chip again.

Messing around with the computers in cars is not only for tuning, but can also expose some rather serious security flaws, especially in modern vehicles.

RF Burns And Exploding PC Speakers: Sophos Looks At The Evidence

Every year in the month of June, someone by the unlikely name of [R.F. Burns] posts a question to the Linux Kernel Mailing List asking whether a Linux kernel module is possible that would blow the PC speaker. It’s fairly obviously a joke, which is why the UK-based anti-virus company Sophos have devoted a light-hearted blog post to it.

The post is an interesting diversion into early PC sounds, when the only hardware guaranteed to be present was a small speaker hooked up to a bit on an output port. The bit could be cycled for square wave beeps, or with a lot of clever manipulation could put out a low-bitrate PWM that delivered almost intelligible sounds including music and voice. They conclude that since the speaker would have been designed to be at the full amplitude of the 5-volt output bit all the time it should be impossible to blow it from software, and we’d be inclined to agree. There’s a remote possibility that some speakers might have a resonant frequency that could be found in software, but we’re not entirely convinced.

Your Hackaday scribe might have spent a while in a university computer lab back in the day trying and failing to write C code that would produce a usable PWM on an XT speaker, but those with long memories might recall the PC speaker driver for Windows 3.1. If you’re a fan of chiptune music there are even entire albums written for this most basic of instruments.

Header image: MKFI, Public domain.

Vacuum Tube Magic Comes To The 741

Some of you may remember a recent project that featured on these pages, a 555 timer reproduced using vacuum tubes. Its creator [Usagi Electric] was left at loose ends while waiting for a fresh PCB revision of the 555 to be delivered, so set about creating a new vacuum tube model of a popular chip, this time the ubiquitous 741 op-amp. (Video, embedded below.)

The circuit is fairly straightforward, using six small pentodes. The first two are  a long-tailed pair as might be expected, followed by two gain stages, then a final gain stage feeding a cathode follower with feedback. It’s neatly built on a PCB with IC-style “pins” made from more PCB material, then put in a huge replication of an IC socket on a wooden baseboard.

The result is an op-amp, but not necessarily a good one. He looks at the AC performance instead of the DC even though it’s a fully DC-coupled circuit, and finds that while it performs as expected in a classic op-amp circuit it still differs from the ideal at higher gain. The frequency response is poor too, something he rectifies by replacing the feedback capacitor with a smaller value. Sadly he doesn’t look at its common mode performance, though we’d expect that without close matching of the tubes it might leave something to be desired.

It’s obvious that this project would never be selected as an op-amp given the quality of even the cheapest silicon op-amp in comparison. But its value is in a novelty, a talking point, and maybe a chance to learn about op-amps. For that, we like it.

We covered the vacuum tube 555 when details of it emerged, but if op-amps are your bag we’ve looked at a simple one very closely indeed.

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2:3 Scale VT100 Terminal Gets Closer To Its Roots

When [Michael Gardi] finished his scaled down DEC VT100 replica a few months ago, he made it very clear that the project was only meant to look like a vintage terminal on the outside. A peek into the case revealed nothing more exotic than a Raspberry Pi running its default operating system, making the terminal just as well suited to emulating classic games as it was dialing into a remote system. But as any hacker knows, some projects end up developing a life of their own.

It started simply enough. The addition of an RS-232 Serial HAT to the Raspberry Pi meant that the 3D printed VT100 could actually operate as a serial terminal using software such as minicom. Then [Lars Brinkhoff] got involved. He loved the look of the printed VT100, and thought it deserved better than a generic terminal emulator. So he went ahead and started developing a custom terminal simulator for it to run.

Reliving those CRT glory days.

The idea here is that an an 8080 emulator actually runs an original VT100 firmware ROM, warts and all. It makes all the beeps and chirps you’d expect from the real hardware, and there’s even some OpenGL trickery used to mimic an old CRT display, complete with scan lines and a soft glow around characters.

Naturally the visual effects consume a fair amount of processing power, so [Lars] cautions that anything lower than the Pi 4 will likely experience slowdowns. Of course, nothing is stopping you from running the simulator on your desktop machine if you’re looking for that classic terminal experience.

Did this gorgeous recreation of the VT100 need to have a true serial interface or a simulator that recreates the unique menu system of the original? Not at all. Even without those additions, it blew us away when [Michael] first sent it in. But are we happy that these guys have put in the time to perfect this already stellar project? We think you already know the answer.

Restoring A Vintage Tube Tester To Its Former Glory

It can be difficult for modern eyes to make much sense of electronics from the 1960s or earlier. Between the point-to-point soldering, oddball components, and the familiar looking passives blown up to comical proportions like rejected props from “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids”, even experienced hardware hackers may find themselves struggling to understand what a circuit is doing. But that didn’t stop [Cat0Charmer] from taking the time to lovingly restore this Hickok Cardmatic KS-15874-L2 tube tester.

The good news was that the machine had nearly all of its original parts, down to the Hickok branded tubes in the power supply. Unfortunately it looks like a few heavy handed repairs were attempted over the years, with a nest of new wires and components intermixed with what [Cat0Charmer] actually wanted to keep. The before and after shots of individual sections of the machine are particularly enlightening, though again, don’t feel to bad if you still can’t make heads or tails of the cleaned up version.

Hiding new capacitors inside of the old ones.

As you’d expect for a machine of this age, many of the original components were way out of spec. Naturally the capacitors were shot, but even the carbon composition resistors were worthless after all these years; with some measuring 60% away from their original tolerances.

We particularly liked how [Cat0Charmer] hollowed out the old capacitors and installed the new modern ones inside of them, preserving the tester’s vintage look. This trick wasn’t always feasible, but where it was applied, it definitely looks better than seeing a modern capacitor adrift in a sea of 60’s hardware.

After undoing ham-fisted repairs, replacing the dud components, and installing some new old stock tubes, the tester sprung to life with renewed vigor. The previously inoperable internal neon lamps, used by the tester’s voltage regulation system, shone brightly thanks to all the ancillary repairs and changes that went on around them. With a DIY calibration cell built from the schematics in an old Navy manual, [Cat0Charmer] got the tester dialed in and ready for the next phase of its long and storied career.

We love seeing old hardware get restored. It not only keeps useful equipment out of the scrap heap, but because blending new and old technology invariably leads to the kind of innovative problem solving this community is built on.