Bus Sniffing The Model 5150 For Better Emulation

At the risk of stating the obvious, a PC is more than just its processor. And if you want to accurately emulate what’s going on inside the CPU, you’d do well to pay attention to the rest of the machine, as [GloriousCow] shows us by bus-sniffing the original IBM Model 5150.

A little background is perhaps in order. Earlier this year, [GloriousCow] revealed MartyPC, the cycle-accurate 8088 emulator written entirely in Rust. A cycle-accurate emulation of the original IBM PC is perhaps a bit overkill, unless of course you need to run something like Area 5150, a demo that stretches what’s possible with the original PC architecture but is notoriously finicky about what hardware it runs on.

Getting Area 5150 running on an emulator wasn’t enough for [GloriousCow], though, so a deep dive into exactly what’s happening on the bus of an original IBM Model 5150 was in order. After toying with and wisely dismissing several homebrew logic analyzer solutions, a DSLogic U3Pro32 logic analyzer was drafted into the project.

Fitting the probes for the 32-channel instrument could have been a problem except for the rarely populated socket for the 8087 floating-point coprocessor on the motherboard. A custom adapter gave access to most of the interesting lines, including address and data buses, while a few more signals, like the CGA sync lines, were tapped directly off the video card.

Capturing one second of operation yielded a whopping 1.48 GB CSV file, but a little massaging with Python trimmed the file considerably. That’s when the real fun began, strangely enough in Excel, which [GloriousCow] used as an ad hoc but quite effective visualization tool, thanks to the clever use of custom formatting. We especially like the column that shows low-to-high transitions as a square wave — going down the column, sure, but still really useful.

The whole thing is a powerful toolkit for exploring the action on the bus during the execution of Area 5150, only part of which [GloriousCow] has undertaken as yet. We’ll be eagerly awaiting the next steps on this one — maybe it’ll even help get the demo running as well as 8088MPH on a modded Book8088.

Computer Space Replica Is Up And Running

You never forget your first time — watching someone pour several quid’s worth of 10p pieces into a Space Invader machine in 1978, upsetting for a youngster who wanted to have a turn. We’re still waiting, but [Alston] has found an interesting way to get around those arcade video game hoggers by building a replica of Computer Space, the first commercial arcade video game.

Released in 1971, the groundbreaking game was designed by gaming legends [Nolan Bushnell] and [Ted Dabney], and came in a striking curvy fiberglass case that was molded by a manufacturer of swimming pools. [Alston] hasn’t built the case yet, but he does have the electronics up and running.

The electronics of Computer Space are interesting, because there is no microprocessor in there. Instead, it is built from discrete components. [Nolan] had originally planned to use a mini computer called the Data General Nova 800. However, he realized that he could make it cheaper by building it out of discrete components. As [Nolan] described it in an oral history at the Smithsonian [PDF link], the idea came to him after a post-Thanksgiving dinner nap:

“Screw the minicomputer. Get rid of it. Do it all in hardware. Make the game out of this collection, just make it a simple state machine. And the minute that happened, it was like knife through butter. Not only did I get the cost down, but what was budgeted for $1,500 worth of minicomputer, the whole damn computer cost me less than $300 in glue parts. So, I knew that I had something.”

That decision makes it an interesting project to build a replica. Although you can emulate it on a modern computer easily (there is even a version that runs in CSS in the browser). [Alston] is going the hard route, building replica PCBs and using the same components where possible, helped by people who have documented it. So far, the boards are and running and displaying a grainy, pixelated image on a portable TV.

The next step is to take the replica electronics box he has built and make a cabinet to put it into. That’s a big project, and [Alston] is looking for someone with an original cabinet that he can examine and document.

Fixing A C64 With A Cheap $20 Oscilloscope

Modern computers are so fast and complex that we would seldom try and fix them on a component level with simple DIY tools. Working on an early 1980s computer is much easier by comparison, with the fastest signals often in the single-MHz range. [Sayaka] demonstrates this by using a cheap $20 oscilloscope to troubleshoot and repair a Commodore 64.

After powering it up for the first time, the C64 displays a BASIC prompt, but none of the keys seem to work. [Sayaka] did what good hackers do, and immediately disassembled it to try and figure out the problem, suspecting the CIA chip as a likely culprit.

[Sayaka] elected to purchase a cheap DS0138 oscilloscope kit to help troubleshoot the C64. It’s not the most capable thing, with a bandwidth of just 200 KHz, but it’s enough to do some work on an old retro machine. After probing around to check a number of signals, she noted that the CIA’s pins seemed to be very oxidized and suffering poor conductivity. All it took from there was a resolder job, and the computer was repaired.

We’ve seen other cheap scopes with altogether more impressive specs, too. Video after the break. Continue reading “Fixing A C64 With A Cheap $20 Oscilloscope”

How To Chase The Beam With A Z80

The more accomplished 8-bit microcomputers of the late 1970s and early 1980s had a dedicated display chip, a CRT controller. This took care of all the jobs associated with driving a CRT display, generating the required timing and sequencing all the dots to make a raster. With a CRT controller on hand the CPU had plenty of time to do other work, but on some cheaper machines there was no CRT controller and the processor had to do all the work of assembling the display itself.

[Dr. Matt Regan] had a Sinclair ZX81 which relied on this technique, and he’s put up the first of what will become a series of videos offering a deep dive into this method of creating video. The key to its operation lies in very careful use of timing, with operations executed to keep a consistent number of clock cycles per dot on the display. He’s making a very low resolution version of the display in the first video, which he manages to do with only an EPROM and a couple of 74 logic chips alongside the Z80. We’re particularly impressed with the means of creating the sync pulses, using opcodes carefully chosen to do nothing of substance except setting a particular bit.

This method of assembling a display on such a relatively slow microprocessor has the drawback of no means of creating a grayscale, and of course it’s only available in glorious black and white. But it’s the system which gave a first experience of computing to millions, and for that we find the video fascinating. Take a look, below the break.

If this has caused you to yearn for all things Sinclair, read our tribute to the man himself.

Continue reading “How To Chase The Beam With A Z80”

16 Kbit DRAM Gives Up Its Secrets

[Ken Shirriff] is looking inside chips again. This time, the subject is the MK4116 — a 16 Kbit DRAM chip. Even without a calculator, you know that’s a whopping 2 Kbytes, and while that doesn’t sound impressive, in the late 1970s, it was a modern miracle.

The chip showed up in computers ranging from the TRS-80 to the Xerox Alto and was even a mainstay of arcade video games. While [Ken] thought it would be a pretty predictable teardown, he found several surprises.

Static RAM chips use flip flops and retain their state as long as power is on. That’s convenient, but each flip flop takes multiple transistors, so there is a limit to how many bits you can put on a particular size chip. Dynamic RAM increases that limit because it is nothing more than a capacitor and a single transistor. This increases memory density, but the problem is that the capacitor doesn’t hold charge indefinitely. The computer or an associated circuit had to refresh the memory periodically to maintain the contents.

One of the key innovations for this chip was the use of multiplexed address lines so it could use a smaller package. Inside, two banks of capacitors store the bits, and, usually, a computer would use eight chips to store a byte. Of course, each memory bit is made to be as compact as possible. This chip is also made to be very low power when idle. The secret is that it doesn’t use load transistors but instead uses an active pull-up tied to the system clock. Another interesting feature is the sense amplifier, which has to measure the tiny noisy voltage from the capacitors.

You’ll see all this and more in [Ken’s] write-up. Chips from that era were relatively easy to take apart compared to today’s devices. Want to know how it’s done? [Ken] can tell you. He is well-known for doing a lot of cool stuff, with ICs and even old mainframe and space hardware.

Dark Trace CRTs, Almost The E-Ink Of Their Time

When you’ve been a fact-sponge for electronics trivia for over four decades, it’s not often that an entire class of parts escapes your attention. But have you seen the Skiatron? It’s a CRT that looks like a normal mid-20th-century tube, until it’s switched on. Then its secret is revealed; instead of the glowing phosphor trace we’d expect, the paper-white screen displays a daylight-readable and persistent black trace. They’re invariably seen in videos of radar installations, with the 360 degree scans projected onto large table-top screens which show the action like a map. It’s like e-ink, but from the 1940s. What’s going on?

Two photos of the same crystalline rock, the top one is white, the bottom one is purple.
The tenebrescent mineral Hackmanite, before and after UV exposure. Leland Green…, CC BY-SA 2.0 and CC BY-SA 2.0.

The phosphor coating on a traditional CRT screen is replaced by a halide salt, and the property on which the display relies is called tenebrescence, changing colour under the influence of radiation. This seems most associated online with UV treatment of some minerals and gemstones to give them a prettier look, and its use a s a display technology is sadly forgotten.

A high-school physics understanding of the phenomenon is that energy from the UV light or the electron beam in the case of the tube, places some electrons in the crystal into higher energy levels, at which they absorb some visible light wavelengths. This is reversible through heat, in some substances requiring the application of heat while in others the heat of room temperature being enough. Of course here at Hackaday we’re hands-on people, so into the EPROM eraser went a small amount of table salt in a makeshift dish made of paper, but sadly not to be rewarded by a colour change.

On a real dark-trace CRT the dark trace would be illuminated from behind by a ring light round the glass neck of the tube. An interesting aside is that, unlike phosphor CRTs, they were more suitable for vertical mounting. It seems that small amounts of phosphor could detach themselves from a vertically mounted screen and drop into the electron gun, something that wasn’t a problem for tenebrescent coatings.

This display tech has shuffled off into the graveyard of obsolescence, we’re guessing because CRT technology became a lot better over the 1950s, and radar technologies moved towards a computerised future in which the persistence of the display wasn’t the only thing keeping the information on the screen. It seems at first sight to be a surprise that tenebrescent coatings have never resurfaced in other displays for their persistence, but perhaps there was always a better alternative whether it was ultra-low-power LCDs or more recently e-ink style devices.

For more bleeding-edge 1950s radar displays, we’ve previously brought you Volscan, a radar with an early form of GUI, which no doubt was one of those which consigned dark-trace CRTs to history.

Bill, Steve, And Gary… Computer Pioneers

If you ask your neighbor who Bill Gates or Steve Jobs is, they’d probably know. But mention Gary Kildall, and you are likely to get a blank stare unless you live next door to another Hackaday reader. [Al’s Geek Lab] has a great three-part documentary on Gary Kildall who, in case you didn’t know, was the man behind CP/M, a very influential operating system in the early days of computing and one that set the stage for the PC revolution.

You probably know the folktale that when IBM was looking for an operating system, Bill Gates took the meeting, and Gary Kildall went surfing instead. But like most capsule histories, there is plenty more to the story, and it isn’t as simple as people make it out.

We forget, sometimes, how innovative Digital Research — Kildall’s company — was for the time. We think of CP/M as the venerable CP/M 2.2, which was fine. But there was multitasking CP/M and GEM — a precursor to the graphical user interface found everywhere today. Sure, it looks antiquated now, but it was light years in front of everyone else.

If you watch the whole series, you’ll learn that the IBM story isn’t totally apocryphal, but the truth is much different. Kildall didn’t want the IBM deal, and for what seemed like good reasons at the time. Of course, Gates negotiated a deal with IBM that would build a huge company, so it is easy to look back and say that not taking the deal was a mistake, but we would have probably made the same decision as Kildall at that time.

This isn’t the first time we’ve wondered what a world where CP/M won would have looked like. If you want to look inside CP/M, you can. Of course, it still powers many retrocomputers and even has some surprising clones.

Continue reading “Bill, Steve, And Gary… Computer Pioneers”