The build consists of a 3D-printed hammer prop, inside of which is a Raspberry Pi Pico microcontroller running the show. It’s hooked up to a MPR121 touch sensor that detects when someone grips the handle of the hammer. At this point, the Pico makes a pseudorandom “worthiness check” as to whether the holder is righteous enough to wield the hammer. If they are pure of heart, it unlocks a magnet which frees the hammer from whatever metallic surface it might be stuck to. [alemanjir] also included a little additional functionality, with the hammer playing various sounds when swung thanks to a speaker and a ADXL345 accelerometer secreted inside.
One wonders whether the electromagnet inside is strong enough to hold out against an unworthy person lifting it from the ground. While it’s perhaps not as powerful or as decisive as the mythical object, it’s nonetheless a fun learning project that likely taught [alemanja] some useful basics of embedded development.
Your design task, should you decide to accept it: given an input voltage, square it. Ok, that’s too hard since squaring 8 volts would give you 64 volts, so let’s say the output should be 10% of the square, so 8 volts in would result in 6.4V. How do you do it? [Engineering Prof.] knows how and will show you what you can do in the video below.
The circuit uses two op amps and some transistors. However, the transistors are used in a way that depends on the temperature, so it is important to use a transistor array so they are matched and will all be at the same temperature.
The math depends on the fact that the transistor response has a natural log term in it, and the property that the sum of two logs is the same as the log of the product of the numbers.
Because of the matching transistors, many of the terms in the equation cancel out. Because the transistors are current devices, the transistor circuit’s output current is the input current squared divided by the output transistor’s collector current. Then it is just a matter of converting the voltage to a current and back again using the right scaling.
There’s more to it, of course, but that’s the gist of it. You can dig into the math by watching the video. If the KCL references are fuzzy for you, here’s a refresher. Squaring a voltage would be pretty important for an analog computer.
Lego’s Technic line features all kinds of mechanical devices, from cogs to gears to chains and even pneumatic components. However, the vast majority of these components are made out of plastic and are only capable of toy-like levels of performance. In the competitive world of Lego YouTube, builders often push these parts to their limits, breaking them more often than you might think. To that end, [Brick Experiment Channel] has been investigating stouter Lego-compatible universal joints from a variety of third-party manufacturers.
The video starts with a simple demonstration, showing that a Lego universal joint pops apart at just 0.4 Nm of torque. It’s no surprise, given it relies on tiny plastic pins in snap-fit joints. However, this means that it’s not that hard to build a stronger universal joint to outperform the stock parts.
The video steps through a range of other options available on the market. For example, CaDA builds a universal joint using aluminium sleeves, a copper center, and steel pins to join everything together. It’s so strong that the plastic Lego axles fail long before the joint does. Tested with third-party aluminum axles, it eventually fails at 2.3 Nm of torque when the aluminum sleeve snaps. An all-steel joint from MTP goes even harder, eventually stripping out its axle mount at 4 Nm. The rest of the video goes on to explore angular performance, size, and other design features.
It’s fair to say that if you’re swapping out universal joints and axles for aluminum steel parts, you’re not really playing with Lego anymore. At the same time, it’s neat that there exists a sort of defacto standard kit for mechanical experimentation that is now being expanded upon with stronger components. Video after the break.
Most standing desks on the market use electric motors or hand cranks to raise and lower the deck. However, [Matthias Wandel] found a Kloud standing desk that used an altogether different set up. He set about figuring out how it worked in the old-fashioned way—by pulling it apart.
The Kloud desk relies on pneumatics rather than electrical actuators to move up and down. Inside the desk sits a small tank that can be pressurized with a hand-cranked mechanism. A lever can then be used to release pressure from this tank into a pair of pneumatic cylinders that drive the top of the desk upwards. The two cylinders are kept moving in sync by a tensioned metal ribbon that ties the two sides together. The mechanism is not unlike a gas lift chair—holding the lever and pushing down lets the desk move back down. Once he’s explained the basic mechanism, [Matthias] gets into the good stuff—pulling apart the leg actuator mechanism to show us what’s going on inside in greater detail.
We haven’t seen any projects from serial experimenter [Les Wright] for quite a while, and honestly, we were getting a little worried about that. Turns out we needn’t have fretted, as [Les] was deep into this exploration of the Pockels Effect, with pretty cool results.
If you’ll recall, [Les]’s last appearance on these pages concerned the automated creation of huge, perfect crystals of KDP, or potassium dihydrogen phosphate. KDP crystals have many interesting properties, but the focus here is on their ability to modulate light when an electrical charge is applied to the crystal. That’s the Pockels Effect, and while there are commercially available Pockels cells available for use mainly as optical switches, where’s the sport in buying when you can build?
As with most of [Les]’s projects, there are hacks galore here, but the hackiest is probably the homemade diamond wire saw. The fragile KDP crystals need to be cut before use, and rather than risk his beauties to a bandsaw or angle grinder, [Les] threw together a rig using a stepper motor and some cheap diamond-encrusted wire. The motor moves the diamond wire up and down while a weight forces the crystal against it on a moving sled. Brilliant!
The cut crystals are then polished before being mounted between conductive ITO glass and connected to a high-voltage supply. The video below shows the beautiful polarization changes induced by the electric field, as well as demonstrating how well the Pockels cell acts as an optical switch. It’s kind of neat to see a clear crystal completely block a laser just by flipping a switch.
As the Industrial Age took the world by storm, city centers became burgeoning hubs of commerce and activity. New offices and apartments were built higher and higher as density increased and skylines grew ever upwards. One could live and work at height, but this created a simple inconvenience—if you wanted to send any mail, you had to go all the way down to ground level.
In true American fashion, this minor inconvenience would not be allowed to stand. A simple invention would solve the problem, only to later fall out of vogue as technology and safety standards moved on. Today, we explore the rise and fall of the humble mail chute.
Going Down
Born in 1848 in Albany, New York, James Goold Cutler would come to build his life in the state. He lived and worked in the growing state, and as an architect, he soon came to identify an obvious problem. For those occupying higher floors in taller buildings, the simple act of sending a piece of mail could quickly become a tedious exercise. One would have to make their way all the way to a street level post box, which grew increasingly tiresome as buildings grew ever taller.
Cutler’s original patent for the mail chute. Note element G – a hand guard that prevented people from reaching into the chute to grab mail falling from above. Security of the mail was a key part of the design. Credit: US Patent, public domain
Cutler saw that there was an obvious solution—install a vertical chute running through the building’s core, add mail slots on each floor, and let gravity do the work. It then became as simple as dropping a letter in, and down it would go to a collection box at the bottom, where postal workers could retrieve it during their regular rounds. Cutler filed a patent for this simple design in 1883. He was sure to include a critical security feature—a hand guard behind each floor’s mail chute. This was intended to stop those on lower levels reaching into the chute to steal the mail passing by from above. Installations in taller buildings were also to be fitted with an “elastic cushion” in the bottom to “prevent injury to the mail” from higher drop heights.
A Cutler Receiving Box that was built in 1920. This box would have lived at the bottom of a long mail chute, with the large door for access by postal workers. The brass design is typical of the era. Credit: National Postal Museum, CC0
One year later, the first installation went live in the Elwood Building, built in Rochester, New York to Cutler’s own design. The chute proved fit for purpose in the seven-story building, but there was a problem. The collection box at the bottom of Cutler’s chute was seen by the postal authorities as a mailbox. Federal mail laws were taken quite seriously, then as now, and they stated that mailboxes could only be installed in public buildings such as hotels, railway stations, or government facilities. The Elwood was a private building, and thus postal carriers refused to service the collection box.
It consists of a chute running down through each story to a mail box on the ground floor, where the postman can come and take up the entire mail of the tenants of the building. A patent was easily secured, for nobody else had before thought of nailing four boards together and calling it a great thing.
Letters could be dropped in the apertures on the fourth and fifth floors and they always fell down to the ground floor all right, but there they stated. The postman would not touch them. The trouble with the mail chute was the law which says that mail boxes shall be put only in Government and public buildings.
Cutler’s brilliantly simple invention seemed dashed at the first hurdle. However, rationality soon prevailed. Postal laws were revised in 1893, and mail chutes were placed under the authority of the US Post Office Department. This had important security implications. Only post-office approved technicians would be allowed to clear mail clogs and repair and maintain the chutes, to ensure the safety and integrity of the mail.
The Cutler Mail chutes are easy to spot at the Empire State Building. Credit: Teknorat, CC BY-SA 2.0
With the legal issues solved, the mail chute soared in popularity. As skyscrapers became ever more popular at the dawn of the 20th century, so did the mail chute, with over 1,600 installed by 1905. The Cutler Manufacturing Company had been the sole manufacturer reaping the benefits of this boom up until 1904, when the US Post Office looked to permit competition in the market. However, Cutler’s patent held fast, with his company merging with some rivals and suing others to dominate the market. The company also began selling around the world, with London’s famous Savoy Hotel installing a Cutler chute in 1904. By 1961, the company held 70 percent of the mail chute market, despite Cutler’s passing and the expiry of the patent many years prior.
The value of the mail chute was obvious, but its success was not to last. Many companies began implementing dedicated mail rooms, which provided both delivery and pickup services across the floors of larger buildings. This required more manual handling, but avoided issues with clogs and lost mail and better suited bigger operations. As postal volumes increased, the chutes became seen as a liability more than a convenience when it came to important correspondence. Larger oversized envelopes proved a particular problem, with most chutes only designed to handle smaller envelopes. A particularly famous event in 1986 saw 40,000 pieces of mail stuck in a monster jam at the McGraw-Hill building, which took 23 mailbags to clear. It wasn’t unusual for a piece of mail to get lost in a chute, only to turn up many decades later, undelivered.
An active mail chute in the Law Building in Akron, Ohio. The chute is still regularly visited by postal workers for pickup. Credit: Cards84664, CC BY SA 4.0Mail chutes were often given fine, detailed designs befitting the building they were installed in. This example is from the Fitzsimons Army Medical Center in Colorado. Credit: Mikepascoe, CC BY SA 4.0
The final death knell for the mail chute, though, was a safety matter. Come 1997, the National Fire Protection Association outright banned the installation of new mail chutes in new and existing buildings. The reasoning was simple. A mail chute was a single continuous cavity between many floors of a building, which could easily spread smoke and even flames, just like a chimney.
Despite falling out of favor, however, some functional mail chutes do persist to this day. Real examples can still be spotted in places like the Empire State Building and New York’s Grand Central station. Whether in use or deactivated, many still remain in older buildings as a visible piece of mail history.
Better building design standards and the unstoppable rise of email mean that the mail chute is ultimately a piece of history rather than a convenience of our modern age. Still, it’s neat to think that once upon a time, you could climb to the very highest floors of an office building and drop your important letters all the way to the bottom without having to use the elevator or stairs.
Spending time as wee hackers perusing the family atlas taught us an appreciation for a good map, and [Billy Roberts], a cartographer at NREL, has served up a doozy with a map of the data center infrastructure in the United States. [via LinkedIn]
Fiber optic lines, electrical transmission capacity, and the data centers themselves are all here. Each data center is a dot with its size indicating how power hungry it is and its approximate location relative to nearby metropolitan areas. Color coding of these dots also helps us understand if the data center is already in operation (yellow), under construction (orange), or proposed (white).
Also of interest to renewable energy nerds would be the presence of some high voltage DC transmission lines on the map which may be the future of electrical transmission. As the exact location of fiber optic lines and other data making up the map are either proprietary, sensitive, or both, the map is only available as a static image.
XR may not have crashed into our lives as much as some tech billionaires have wished, but that doesn’t stop the appeal of a full display that takes up no physical space. At that point, why not get rid of the computer that takes up living space as well? That is what [Michael] tries to do with Bento, the form factor of an Apple Magic keyboard and the power of a Steam Deck.
Steam Deck modding is a great project to get started on but we don’t see too many VR or XR uses of the mobile pc. While the VR gaming potential is limited by lackluster power, general productivity is a perfect use case. All that productivity power can be found in a 3D printed case with a battery, allowing for some mobile use. A magic keyboard sits on top of the case, so the entire package takes up less space than the average mechanical keyboard. However, we could always support the addition of a mechanical key version. There’s plenty of spare room in this current design, just look at the storage area!
[Michael] believes that this use of XR fulfills a more true course for “spatial computing” than Apple’s Vision Pro. Of course, this design is not restricted to only XR use; the Steam Deck is capable of running on any normal monitor you would like. Regardless, we need to see the model files to verify for ourselves! [Michael] claims these resources will be available soon, and trust us that we will be waiting!
Minimalist builds are far from unheard of here on Hackaday. After all, less room taken up by random cables or clutter means more room for projects. This is a lesson clearly followed by similar projects such as this completely wireless-powered desktop!
The intersection between “woodworkers” and “programmers” is not a densely populated part of the Venn diagram, but [Michael Schiebler] is there with his Kerf Bend Wizard to help us make wood twist and bend like magic.
Kerf bending is a fine technique we have covered before: by cutting away material on the inside face of a piece of wood, you create an area weak enough to allow for bending. The question becomes: how much wood do I remove? And where? That’s where Kerf Bend Wizard comes to the rescue.
More after the break…
From spline (user input in black, expected output in pink)…
You feed it a spline– either manually or via DXF–and it feeds you a cut pattern that will satisfy that spline: just enough wood removed in just the right places that the edges of the cut should touch when the bend is achieved. This means less cut time and a stronger piece than eyeballing the kerfs. It works with both a table saw blade or a tapered end mill on a CNC or manual router. You can specify the kerf width of your table saw, or angle of your end mill, along with your desired cut depth.
… to cuts …
The output is DXF, convenient for use with a CNC, and a simple table giving distances from the edge of the piece and which side to cut, which is probably easier for use on the table saw. (Kerf Bend Wizard is happy to handle complex bends that require kerfing both sides of the material, as you can see.)
… to curved wood.
This was [Michael]’s thesis project, for which he hopefully got a good grade. The code is “semi-open” according to [Michael]; there’s a GitHub where you can grab an offline version for your own use, but no open-source license is on offer. Being a broke student and an artist to boot, [Michael] also can’t promise he will be able to keep the web version available without ads or some kind of monetization, so enjoy it while you can!
Our thanks (which, as always, is worth its weight in gold) to [Michael] for the tip. If you’re in the intersection of the Venn diagram with [Michael], we’d love to hear what you’re up to.
Some hacks just tickle the brain in a very particular way. They’re, for a change, not overly engineered; they’re just elegant, anachronistic, and full of mischief. That’s exactly what [Frans] pulls off with A Gentleman’s Orrery, a tiny, simple clockwork solar system. Composed of shiny brass and the poise of 18th-century craftsmanship, it hides a modern secret: there’s barely any clockwork inside. You can build it yourself.
Peek behind the polished face and you’ll find a mechanical sleight of hand. This isn’t your grandfather’s gear-laden planetarium. Instead of that, it operates on a pared-down system that relies on a stepper motor, driving planetary movement through a 0.8 mm axle nested inside a 1 mm brass tube. That micro-mechanical coupling, aided by a couple of bevel gears, manages to rotate the Moon just right, including its orientation. Most of the movement relies on clever design, not gear cascades. The real wizardry happens under the hood: a 3D-printed chassis cradles an ESP32-C6, a TTP223 capacitive touch module, STSPIN220 driver, and even a reed switch with magnetic charging.
You can even swap out the brass for a stone shell where the full moon acts as the touch control. It’s tactile, it’s poetic, and therefore, a nice hack for a weekend project. To build it yourself, read [Frans]’ Instructable.
The Radio Shack TRS-80 was a much-loved machine across America. However, one thing it lacked was MIDI. That’s not so strange given the era it was released in, of course. Nevertheless, [Michael Wessel] has seen fit to correct this by creating the MIDI/80—a soundcard and MIDI interface for this old-school beast.
The core of the build is a BluePill STM32F103C8T6 microcontroller, running at a mighty 75 MHz. Plugged into the TRS-80s expansion port, the microcontroller is responsible for talking to the computer and translating incoming and outgoing MIDI signals as needed. Naturally, you can equip it with full-size classic DIN sockets for MIDI IN and MIDI OUT using an Adafruit breakout module. None of that MIDI Thru nonsense, though, that just makes people uncomfortable. The card is fully capable of reproducing General MIDI sounds, too, either via plugging in a Waveblaster sound module to the relevant header, or by hooking up a Roland Sound Canvas or similar to the MIDI/80s MIDI Out socket. Software-wise, there’s already a whole MIDI ecosystem developing around this new hardware. There’s a TRS-80 drum tracker and a synthesizer program, all with demo songs included. Compatibility wise, The MIDI/80 works with the TRS-80 Model I, III, and 4.
Does this mean the TRS-80 will become a new darling of the tracker and chiptune communities? We can only hope so! Meanwhile, if you want more background on this famous machine, we’ve looked into that, too. Video after the break.
If you haven’t played the Metal Gear games, the Codec has been modelled somewhat like an advanced walkie talkie at times, but has often been kept off-screen. Thus, [3DSage] had a great deal of creative latitude to create a realistic-feeling Codec device that provided voice communications and some simple imagery display.
The resulting build relies on an RP2040 microcontroller to run the show. It’s paired with an MPU6050 3-axis gyroscope and accelerometer for motion control of the device’s functionality, and features a small LCD screen to mimic the display in the games. A kids walkie-talkie kit was leveraged for audio communication, but kitted out with a better microphone than standard. Power is via a rechargeable 9V battery, which is really a lithium-ion and USB charging board packed into the familiar 9V form factor.
Where the build really shines, though, is the aesthetic. [3DSage] managed to capture the military-like look and feel as well as authentically recreate the graphics from the games on the screen. The simulated noise on the display is particularly charming. Beyond that, the 3D-printed enclosures leverage texture and multi-color printing really well to nail the fit and finish.
Ultimately, the Codec isn’t much more than a glorified walkie talkie. Even still, [3DSage] was able to create an impressive prop that actually does most of what the device can do in game. If you’ve ever coveted a PipBoy or tricorder, this is one project you’ll be able to appreciate.
Last week, we examined a Doom port for the venerable Atari ST. As is so often the way with this thing, one netted another, and [Steve] wrote in to inform us about a different version under the name DOOM8088ST.
The port is so named because it’s based on Doom8088, which was originally written for DOS machines running Intel 8088 or 286 CPUs. Both ports are the work of [FrenkelS], and aims to bring the Doom experience into the far more resource constrained environment of the Atari ST. There is only very limited sound, no saving, and it only supports Doom 1 Episode 1. Still, it’s quite recognizable as Doom!
Doom8088ST is tunable to various levels of performance, depending on what you’re running it on. Low mode (30 x 128) is suitable for stock Atari ST machines running at 8 MHz. It’s described as having “excellent” framerate and is very playable. If you’ve got an upgraded ST or Mega STe, you can try Medium (60 x 128), which has greatly improved visuals but is a lot heavier to run.
Files are on Github for those interested to run or tinker with the code. Don’t forget to check out the other port we featured last week, either, in the form of STDOOM. Video after the break.
[Dmytro] was able to lay his hands on a InfiRay T2S+ camera. It’s a capable thermal imaging unit that comes at a cheaper price than many of its rivals. [Dmytro] decided to pull it apart to see what makes it tick, and he discovered a few interesting things along the way.
Like so much modern hardware, pulling the case apart does require some spudging and levering. Once inside, though, it comes apart in a relatively straightforward manner. Once inside, [Dmytro] notes some similarities between this camera and the Flir Lepton, another affordable thermal camera on the market. He also finds a clone of the Cypress FX2LP chip, which is used for talking USB. There’s also an Gowin FPGA inside, with [Dmytro] suspecting the gateware onboard could be modified. If so, the camera may be a candidate for running open source firmware in future.
What bothered [Dmytro] about this camera, though, was the software. When used with an Android phone, the camera demands the use of a proprietary app with with questionable permissions. It can be used on a regular computer, where it appears as a standard webcam. However, in this mode, the camera fails to self-calibrate, and the images quickly become useless. [Dmytro] worked to hack around this, by figuring out a way to trigger calibrations and run the proper image corrections manually when using the camera without the smartphone app. He also explores techniques to improve the resolution of the thermal measurements made by the camera.
We’ve seen some other neat thermal camera hacks over the years. Video after the break.
Don’t you hate it when making your DIY X-ray machine you make an uncomfortable amount of ozone gas? No? Well [Hyperspace Pirate] did, which made him come up with an interesting idea. While creating a high voltage supply for his very own X-ray machine, the high voltage corona discharge produced a very large amount of ozone. However, normally ozone is produced using lower voltage, smaller gaps, and large surface areas. Naturally, this led [Hyperspace Pirate] to investigate if a higher voltage method is effective at producing ozone.
Using a custom 150kV converter, [Hyperspace Pirate] was able to test the large gap method compared to the lower voltage method (dielectric barrier discharge). An ammonia reaction with the ozone allowed our space buccaneer to test which method was able to produce more ozone, as well as some variations of the designs.
Experimental Setup with ozone production in the left jar and nitrate in the right.
Large 150kV gaps proved slightly effective but with no large gains, at least not compared to the dielectric barrier method. Of which, glass as the dielectric leads straight to holes, and HTPE gets cooked, but in the end, he was able to produce a somewhat sizable amount of ammonium nitrate. The best design included two test tubes filled with baking soda and their respective electrodes. Of course, this comes with the addition of a very effective ozone generator.
While this project is very thorough, [Hyperspace Pirate] himself admits the extreme dangers of high ozone levels, even getting close enough to LD50 levels for worry throughout out his room. This goes for when playing with high voltage in general kids! At the end of the day even with potential asthma risk, this is a pretty neat project that should probably be left to [Hyperspace Pirate]. If you want to check out other projects from a distance you should look over to this 20kW microwave to cook even the most rushed meals!
Garage doors! You could get out of your vehicle and open and close them yourself, but that kinda sucks. It’s much preferable to have them raise and lower courtesy some mechanical contrivance, and even better if that is controlled via the web. [Juan Schiavoni] shows us how to achieve the latter with their latest project.
The web-based controller is based around a Xiao ESP32 microcontroller board, chosen for its baked-in WiFi connectivity. It’s set up to host its own web interface which you can login to with a password via a browser. If you have the correct authorization, you can then hit a button to open or close the garage door.
To interface the ESP32 with the garage door itself, [Juan] went the easy route. To trigger opening or closing the door, the ESP32 merely flicks an IO pin to toggle a transistor, which is hooked up to the button of the original garage door opener. Meanwhile, the ESP32 is also hooked up with a magnetic switch which is activated by a magnet on the garage door itself. This serves as a crude indicator as to the current status of the door—whether currently open or closed. This is crucial to ensure the indicated door status shown in the web app remains synced with the status of the door in reality.
It’s a simple project, and reminds us that we needn’t always do things the hard way. [Juan] could have figured out how to hook the ESP32 up with some radio chips to emulate the original garage door opener, but why bother? hooking it up to the original remote was far easier and more reliable anyway. We’ve seen a good few garage door hacks over the years; if you’ve got your own unique take on this classic, don’t hesitate to notify the tipsline!
Some things are so common you forget about them. How often do you think about an ordinary resistor, for example? Yet if you have a bad resistor, you’ll find it can be a big problem. Plus, how can you really understand electronics if you don’t know all the subtle details of a resistor? In the mechanical world, you could make the same arguments about the washer, and [New Mind] is ready to explain the history and the gory details of using washers in a recent video that you can see below.
The simple answer is that washers allow a bolt to fit in a hole otherwise too large, but that’s only a small part of the story. Technically, what you are really doing is distributing the load of a threaded fastener. However, washers can also act as spacers or springs. Some washers can lock, and some indicate various things like wear or preloading conditions.
Plain washers have a surprising number of secondary functions. Spring washers, including Belleville washers, help prevent fasteners from loosening over time. Wave washers look — well — wavy. They provide precise force against the bolt for preloading. Locking washers are also made to prevent fasteners from loosening, but use teeth or stops instead of springs.
There are plenty of standards, of course, that mostly match up. Mostly.
If you like knowing about odd washers, you might also want to know about the bolts that pass through them.
Once upon a time, typing “www” at the start of a URL was as automatic as breathing. And yet, these days, most of us go straight to “hackaday.com” without bothering with those three letters that once defined the internet.
Have you ever wondered why those letters were there in the first place, and when exactly they became optional? Let’s dig into the archaeology of the early web and trace how this ubiquitous prefix went from essential to obsolete.
Where Did You Go?
The first website didn’t bother with any of that www. nonsense! Credit: author screenshot
It may shock you to find out that the “www.” prefix was actually never really a key feature or necessity at all. To understand why, we need only contemplate the very first website, created by Tim Berners-Lee at CERN in 1990. Running on a NeXT workstation employed as a server, the site could be accessed at a simple URL: “http//info.cern.ch/”—no WWW needed. Berners-Lee had invented the World Wide Web, and called it as such, but he hadn’t included the prefix in his URL at all. So where did it come from?
McDonald’s were ahead of the times – in 1999, their website featured the “mcdonalds.com” domain, no prefix, though you did need it to actually get to the site. Credit: screenshot via Web Archive
As it turns out, the www prefix largely came about due to prevailing trends on the early Internet. It had become typical to separate out different services on a domain by using subdomains. For example, a company might have FTP access on http://ftp.company.com, while the SMTP server would be accessed via the smpt.company.com subdomain. In turn, when it came to establish a server to run a World Wide Web page, network administrators followed existing convention. Thus, they would put the WWW server on the www. subdomain, creating http://www.company.com.
This soon became standard practice, and in short order, was expected by members of the broader public as the joined the Internet in the late 1990s. It wasn’t long before end users were ignoring the http:// prefix at the start of domains, as web browsers didn’t really need you to type that in. However, www. had more of a foothold in the public consciousness. Along with “.com”, it became an obvious way for companies to highlight their new fancy website in their public facing marketing materials. For many years, this was simply how things were done. Users expected to type “www” before a domain name, and thus it became an ingrained part of the culture.
Eventually, though, trends shifted. For many domains, web traffic was the sole dominant use, so it became somewhat unnecessary to fold web traffic under its own subdomain. There was also a technological shift when the HTTP/1.1 protocol was introduced in 1999, with the “Host” header enabling multiple domains to be hosted on a single server. This, along with tweaks to DNS, also made it trivial to ensure “www.yoursite.com” and “yoursite.com” went to the same place. Beyond that, fashion-forward companies started dropping the leading www. for a cleaner look in marketing. Eventually, this would become the norm, with “www.” soon looking old hat.
Visit microsoft.com in Chrome, and you might think that’s where you really are… Credit: author screenshot
Of course, today, “www” is mostly dying out, at least as far as the industry and most end users are concerned. Few of us spend much time typing in URLs by hand these days, and fewer of us could remember the last time we felt the need to include “www.” at the beginning. Of course, if you want to make your business look out of touch, you could still include www. on your marketing materials, but people might think you’re an old fuddy duddy.
…but you’re not! Click in the address bar, and Chrome will show you the real URL. www. and all. Embarrassing! Credit: author screenshotHackaday, though? We rock without the prefix. Cutting-edge out here, folks. Credit: author screenshot
Using the www. prefix can still have some value when it comes to cookies, however. If you don’t use the prefix and someone goes to yoursite.com, that cookie would be sent to all subdomains. However, if your main page is set up at http://www.yoursite.com, it’s effectively on it’s own subdomain, along with any others you might have… like store.yoursite.com, blog.yoursite.com, and so on. This allows cookies to be more effectively managed across a site spanning multiple subdomains.
In any case, most browsers have taken a stance against the significance of “www”. Chrome, Safari, Firefox, and Edge all hide the prefix even when you are technically visiting a website that does still use the www. subdomain (like http://www.microsoft.com). You can try it yourself in Chrome—head over to a www. site and watch as the prefix disappears from the taskbar. If you really want to know if you’re on a www subdomain or not, though, you can click into the taskbar and it will give you the full URL, HTTP:// or HTTPS:// included, and all.
The “www” prefix stands as a reminder that the internet is a living, evolving thing. Over time, technical necessities become conventions, conventions become habits, and habits eventually fade away when they no longer serve a purpose. Yet we still see those three letters pop up on the Web now and then, a digital vestigial organ from the early days of the web. The next time you mindlessly type a URL without those three Ws, spare a thought for this small piece of internet history that shaped how we access information for decades. Largely gone, but not yet quite forgotten.
Vintage hi-fi gear has a look and feel all its own. [ThunderOwl] happened to be playing in this space, turning a heavily-modified Technics stereo stack into an awesome neo-retro PC case. Meet the “TechnicsPC!”
This is good. We like this.
You have to hunt across BlueSky for the goodies, but it’s well worth it. The main build concerned throwing a PC into an old Technics receiver, along with a pair of LCD displays and a bunch of buttons for control. If the big screens weren’t enough of a tell that you’re looking at an anachronism, the USB ports just below the power switch will tip you off. A later addition saw a former Technics tuner module stripped out and refitted with card readers and a DVD/CD drive. Perhaps the most era-appropriate addition, though, is the scrolling LED display on top. Stuffed inside another tuner module, it’s a super 90s touch that somehow just works.
These days, off-the-shelf computers are so fancy and glowy that DIY casemodding has fallen away from the public consciousness. And yet, every so often, we see a magnificent build like this one that reminds us just how creative modders can really be. Video after the break.
“Live test”. All more or less as planned, as “cons” – it does not interrupt ongoing scroll cycle with new stuff, it puts new content info with next cycle, so, kinda “info delays”:
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