[Rex Malik] didn’t need an alarm clock. That’s because he had one of two “home computer terminals” next to his bed and, as you can see in the video below, it made quite a racket. The terminal looks like an ASR33 with some modifications. In 1967, it was quite a novelty and, of course, it didn’t have any real processing power. It connected to an “invisible brain” ten miles away.
What do you do with a computer in 1967? Well, it looks like you could trade stocks. It also apparently managed his shopping list and calendar. His young son also learned some letters and numbers. We’d love to hear from the young [Mr. Malik] today to find out what kind of computer he’s using now.
The picture on a TV set used to be the combined product of multiple analog systems, and since TVs had no internal diagnostics, the only way to know things were adjusted properly was to see for yourself. While many people were more or less satisfied if their TV picture was reasonably recognizable and clear, meaningful diagnostic work or calibration required specialized tools. [Thomas Scherrer] provides a close look at one such tool, the Philips PM 5519 GX Color TV Pattern Generator from 1981.
This Casio handheld TV even picked up the test pattern once the cable was disconnected, the pattern generator acting like a miniature TV station.
The Philips PM 5519 was a serious piece of professional equipment for its time, and [Thomas] walks through how the unit works and even opens it up for a peek inside, before hooking it up to both an oscilloscope and a TV in order to demonstrate the different functions.
Tools like this were important because they could provide known-good test patterns that were useful not just for troubleshooting and repair, but also for tasks like fine-tuning TV settings, or verifying the quality of broadcast signals. Because TVs were complex analog systems, these different test patterns would help troubleshoot and isolate problems by revealing what a TV did (and didn’t) have trouble reproducing.
As mentioned, televisions at the time had no self-diagnostics nor any means of producing test patterns of their own, so a way to produce known-good reference patterns was deeply important.
For certain situations, older hardware is preferred or even needed to accomplish a task. This is common in industrial applications where old machinery might not be supported by modern hardware or software. Even in these situations though, we have the benefit of modern technology and the Internet to get these systems up and running again. [Old Computers Sucked] is not only building a mid-90s system to receive NOAA satellite imagery, he’s doing it only with tools and equipment available to someone from this era.
Of course the first step here is to set up a computer and the relevant software that an amateur radio operator would have had access to in 1994. [Old Computers Sucked] already had the computer, so he turned to JV-FAX for software. This tool can decode the APT encoding used by some NOAA satellites without immediately filling his 2 MB hard drive, so with that out of the way he starts on building the radio.
In the 90s, wire wrapping was common for prototyping so he builds a hardware digitizer interface using this method, which will be used to help the computer interface with the radio. [Old Computers Sucked] is rolling his own hardware here as well, based on a Motorola MC3362 VHF FM chip and a phase-locked loop (PLL), although this time on a PCB since RF doesn’t behave nicely with wire wrap. The PCB design is also done with software from the 90s, in this case Protel which is known today as Altium Designer.
In the end, [Old Computers Sucked] was able to receive portions of imagery from weather satellites still using the analog FM signals from days of yore, but there are a few problems with his build that are keeping him from seeing perfectly clear imagery. He’s not exactly sure what’s wrong but he suspects its with the hardware digitizer as it was behaving erratically earlier in the build. We admire his dedication to the time period, though, down to almost every detail of the build. It reminds us of [saveitforparts]’s effort to get an 80s satellite internet experience a little while back.
Before the days of mobile broadband, and before broadband itself even, there was a time where Internet access was provided by phone lines. To get onto a BBS or chat on ICQ required dialing a phone number and accoustically coupling a computer to the phone system. The digital data transmitted as audio didn’t have a lot of bandwidth by today’s standards but it was revolutionary for the time. [Nino] is taking us back to that era by using a serial modem at his house and a device that can communicate to it through any phone, including a public pay phone.
As someone in the present time can imagine, a huge challenge of this project wasn’t technical. Simply finding a working public phone in an era of smartphones was a major hurdle, and at one point involved accidentally upsetting local drug dealers. Eventually [Nino] finds a working pay phone that takes more than one type of coin and isn’t in a loud place where he can duct tape the receiver to his home brew modem and connect back to his computer in his house over the phone line like it’s 1994 again.
Of course with an analog connection like this on old, public hardware there were bound to be a few other issues as well. There were some quirks with the modems including them not hanging up properly and not processing commands quickly enough. [Nino] surmises that something like this hasn’t been done in 20 years, and while this might be true for pay phones we have seen other projects that use VoIP systems at desk phones to accomplish a similar task.
[Thomas] comes up with some unusual gear. In his latest teardown and repair video, he has a vintage 1943 Danish oscilloscope, a Radiometer OSG32 on the bench. It isn’t lightweight, and it certainly looks its age with a vintage cracked finish on the case. You can check out the tubes and high-voltage circuitry in the video below.
If you’ve only seen the inside of a modern scope, you’ll want to check this out with giant condensers (capacitors) and a slew of tubes. We love seeing the workmanship on these old chassis.
It could be argued that erasable programmable ROMs (EPROMs) with their quaint UV-transparent windows are firmly obsolete today in an era of various flavors of EEPROMs. Yet many of these EPROMs are still around, and people want to program them. Unfortunately, the earliest EPROMs were made during a time when JEDEC standardization hadn’t taken root yet, leading to unique pinouts, programming voltages, and programming sequences, as [Anders Nielsen] explains in a recent video.
[Anders]’s Relatively Universal-ROM-Programmer project recently gained the ability to program even the oldest types of EPROMs, something which required modifying the hardware design to accommodate EPROMs like Ti’s TMS2716 and the similar-but-completely-different TMS2516. Although not the hardest thing to support – requiring just a diode and resistor added to the BOM along with a firmware update – it’s just one of those pre-standardization traps.
As [Anders] put it, it’s sometimes good to be unencumbered by the burden of future knowledge. Who would have willingly subjected themselves to the chaos of incompatible pinouts, voltages, etc., if they had known beforehand that in a few years EEPROMs and JEDEC standardization would make life so much easier? Maybe that’s why messing with retro hardware like this is fun, as afterwards you can go back to the future.
As long as there have been games, there have been crackers breaking their copy protections. “Digital Rights Management” or DRM, is a phrase for copy protection coined near the end of the 1990s, and subverted shortly thereafter. But how? [Nathan Baggs] show us what it took to be a cracker in the year 2000, as the first step to get an old game going again turned out to be cracking it.
The game in question is “Michelin Rally Masters: Race of Champions” by DICE, a studio that was later subsumed by EA and is today best known as the developers of the Battlefield franchise. The game as acquired from an abandonware site does not run in a virtual machine, and after a little de-obfuscation of the code causing the crash, [Nathan] discovers LaserLock is to blame. LaserLock was a DRM tool to lock down a game to its original CD-ROM that dates all the way back to 1995. Counters to LaserLock were probably well-known in the community back in the day, but in 2025, [Nathan] walks us through attempting to crack it it from first principles.
We won’t spoil the whole assembly-poking adventure, but the journey does involve unboxing an original CD to be able to compare what’s happening when the disc is physically present compared to running from the ISO. Its tedious work and can only be partially automated. Because it did prove so involved, [Nathan]’s original aim — getting the game to work in Windows 11 — remains unfulfilled so far.
