An occasional series of mine on these pages has been Daily Drivers, in which I try out operating systems from the point of view of using them for my everyday Hackaday work. It has mostly featured esoteric or lesser-used systems, some of which have been unexpected gems and others have been not quite ready for the big time.

Today I’m testing another system, but it’s not quite the same as the previous ones. Instead I’m looking at a piece of hardware, and I’m looking at it for use in my computing projects rather than as my desktop OS. You’ll all be familiar with it: the original Raspberry Pi appeared at the end of February 2012, though it would be May of that year before all but a lucky few received one. Since then it has become a global phenomenon and spawned a host of ever-faster successors, but what of that original board from 2012 here in 2025? If you have a working piece of hardware it makes sense to use it, so how does the original stack up? I have a project that needs a Linux machine, so I’m dusting off a Model B and going down memory lane.

Rediscovering An Old Flame

It’s fair to say that Raspberry Pi have never had the fastest board on the block, or the highest specification. At any point there’s always some board or other touted as a Pi-killer because it claims to do more, but somehow they never make much impact. The reason for this is simple; alongside your Pi you are also buying the ability to run Raspberry Pi OS, and their achievement in creating a solid and well-supported operating system that still runs on their earliest boards is something their competitors can’t touch. So when I pulled out my Model B I was able to go to the Raspberry Pi downloads page and snag a Debian Bookworm image for its 32-bit processor. I went for the “lite” version; while an early Pi will run a desktop and could even be my desktop daily driver, it would be so painfully slow as to be frustrating.

My purpose for using the Pi is to run a language analysis package. Aside from fiddling with old cameras and writing about tech, I have a long history in computational language processing, and I have recently returned to my news trend analysis code and made it open-source. It’s a project whose roots go back nearly two decades, so there’s been an element of working out what my younger self was thinking. It builds and processes a corpus of news data over time from RSS feeds, and presents a web-based analysis client. 2000s-era me wrote it in PHP (don’t judge!) and I evolved a corpus structure using a huge tree of small JSON files for fast access. An earlier version of this package ran on my first Pi for many years, sitting next to my router with a USB hard disk.

Firing up an original Pi in 2025 is easy enough, as with any Pi it’s simply a case of writing the image to an SD card, hooking up the Pi to screen and peripherals, and booting it. Raspberry Pi OS is as straightforward to set up as always, and after rebooting and logging in, there I was with a shell.

Remembering, Computers Weren’t Always This Quick

My main machine is a fairly recent high-end Thinkpad laptop with an Intel Core i7, 32 GB of memory, and the fastest SSD I could afford, equipped with a hefty cache. It’s a supercomputer by any measure from the past, so I have become used to things I do in the shell being blisteringly quick. Sitting at the Pi, it’s evident that I’ll need to recalibrate my expectations, as there’s no way it can match the Thinkpad. As i waited – rather a long time – for apt to upgrade the packages, I had time to reflect. Back in the day when I set up Linux on my 486 or my Pentium machine, I was used to waiting like this. I remember apt upgrade being a go away and have a coffee thing, and I also remember thinking that Pentium was pretty quick, which it was for its day. But stripped of unnecessary services and GUI cruft, I was still getting all the power of the Pi in my terminal. It wasn’t bad, simply visibly slower than the Thinkpad, which to be fair, also applies to all the other computers I own.

So my little Pi 1 model B now sits again hooked up to my router and with a hefty USB drive, again waking up every couple of hours and number-crunching the world’s news. I’ve got used to its relative sloth, and to working again with nano and screen to get things done on it. It’s a useful little computer for the task I have for it, and it can run all day consuming only a couple of watts. As long as the Raspberry Pi people still make the Pi Zero, and I hope for a few years after they stop, it will continue to have OS support, and thus its future as my language processing machine looks assured.

The point of this piece has been to reflect on why we shouldn’t let our older hardware collect dust if it’s still useful. Of course Raspberry Pi want to sell us a new Pi 5, and that board is an amazing machine. But if your task doesn’t need all that power and you still have the earlier model lying around, don’t forget that it’s still a capable little Linux board that you probably paid quite a lot less for. You can’t argue with that.

Sound hardware has been built into PC motherboards for so long now it’s difficult to remember the days when a sound card was an expensive add-on peripheral. By the mid to late 1990s they were affordable and ubiquitous enough to be everywhere, but three decades later some of them are starting to fail. [Necroware] takes us through the repair of a couple of Creative Labs Sound Blaster 16s, which were the card to have back then.

The video below is a relaxed look at typical problems afflicting second-hand cards with uncertain pasts. There’s a broken PCB trace on the first one, which receives a neat repair. The second one has a lot more wrong with it though, and reveals some surprises. We would have found the dead 74 series chips, but we’re not so sure we’d have immediately suspected a resistor network as the culprit.

Watching these cards become sought-after in the 2020s is a little painful for those of us who were there at the time, because it’s certain we won’t be the only ones who cleared out a pile of old ISA cards back in the 2000s. If you find one today and don’t have an ISA slot, worry not, because you can still interface it via your LPC bus.

There are some ideas which someone somewhere has to try. Take [Uri Tuchman]’s foot mouse. It’s a computer mouse for foot operation, but it’s not just a functional block. Instead it’s an ornate inlaid-wood-and-brass affair in the style of a very fancy piece of antique footwear.

The innards of an ordinary USB mouse are placed in something best described as a wooden platform heel, upon which is placed a brass sole with a couple of sections at the front to activate the buttons with the user’s toes. The standout feature is the decoration. With engraving on the brass and inlaid marquetry on the wood, it definitely doesn’t look like any computer peripheral we’ve seen.

The build video is below the break, and we’re treated to all the processes sped up. At the end he uses it in a basic art package and in a piloting game, with varying degrees of succes. We’re guessing it would take a lot of practice to gain a level of dexterity with this thing, but we salute him for being the one who tries it.

This has to be the fanciest peripheral we’ve ever seen, but surprisingly it’s not the first foot mouse we’ve brought you.

If you paid attention to advertising in 1980s Britain, you were never far from Economy 7. It was the magic way to heat your house for less, using storage heaters which would run at night using cheap electricity, and deliver warmth day-long. Behind it all was an unseen force, a nationwide radio switching signal transmitted using the BBC’s 198 kHz Long Wave service. Now in 2025 the BBC Radio 4 Long Wave service it relies on is to be turned off, rendering thousands of off-peak electricity meters still installed, useless. [Ringway Manchester] is here to tell the tale.

The system was rolled out in the early 1980s, and comprised of a receiver box which sat alongside your regular electricity meter and switched in or out your off-peak circuit. The control signal was phase-modulated onto the carrier, and could convey a series of different energy use programs. 198 kHz had the useful property due to its low frequency of universal coverage, making it the ideal choice. As we’ve reported in the past the main transmitter at Droitwich is to be retired due to unavailability of the high-power vacuum tubes it relies on, so now time’s up for Economy 7 too. The electricity companies are slow on the uptake despite years of warning, so there’s an unseemly rush to replace those old meters with new smart meters. The video is below the break.

The earliest of broadcast bands may be on the way out, but it’s not entirely over. There might even be a new station on the dial for some people.

The tech press has been full of announcements over the last day or two regarding GPMI. It’s a new standard with the backing of a range of Chinese hardware companies, for a high-speed digital video interface to rival HDMI. The Chinese semiconductor company HiSilicon have a whitepaper on the subject (Chinese language, Google Translate link), promising a tremendously higher data rate than HDMI, power delivery well exceeding that of USB-C, and interestingly, bi-directional data transfer. Is HDMI dead? Probably not, but the next few years will bring us some interesting hardware as they respond to this upstart.

Reading through pages of marketing from all over the web on this topic, it appears to be an early part of the push for 8k video content. There’s a small part of us that wonders just how far we can push display resolution beyond that of our eyes without it becoming just a marketing gimmick, but it is true to say that there is demand for higher-bandwidth interfaces. Reports mention two plug styles: a GPMI-specific one and a USB-C one. We expect the latter to naturally dominate. In terms of adoption, though, and whether users might find themselves left behind with the wrong interface, we would expect that far from needing to buy new equipment, we’ll find that support comes gradually with fallback to existing standards such as DisplayPort over USB-C, such that we hardly notice the transition.

Nearly a decade ago we marked the passing of VGA. We don’t expect to be doing the same for HDMI any time soon in the light of GPMI.

Vibe coding is the buzzword of the moment. What is it? The practice of writing software by describing the problem to an AI large language model and using the code it generates. It’s not quite as simple as just letting the AI do your work for you because the developer is supposed to spend time honing and testing the result, and its proponents claim it gives a much more interactive and less tedious coding experience. Here at Hackaday, we are pleased to see the rest of the world catch up, because back in 2023, we were the first mainstream hardware hacking news website to embrace it, to deal with a breakfast-related emergency.

Jokes aside, though, the fad for vibe coding is something which should be taken seriously, because it’s seemingly being used in enough places that vibe coded software will inevitably affect our lives.  So here’s the Ask Hackaday: is this a clever and useful tool for making better software more quickly, or a dangerous tool for creating software nobody quite understands, containing bugs which could cause a disaster?

Our approach to writing software has always been one of incrementally building something from the ground up, which satisfies the need. Readers will know that feeling of being in touch with how a project works at all levels, with a nose for immediately diagnosing any problems that might occur. If an AI writes the code for us, the feeling is that we might lose that connection, and inevitably this will lead to less experienced coders quickly getting out of their depth. Is this pessimism, or the grizzled voice of experience? We’d love to know your views in the comments. Are our new AI overlords the new senior developers? Or are they the worst summer interns ever?

Many years ago, audio equipment came with a tone control, a simple RC filter that would cut or boost the bass to taste. As time passed, this was split into two controls for bass and treble, and then finally into three for bass, mid, and treble. When audiophile fashion shifted towards graphic equalisers, these tone controls were rebranded as “3-band graphic equalisers”, a misleading term if ever we heard one. [Gabriel Dantas] designed one of these circuits, and unlike the simple passive networks found on cheap music centres of old, he’s doing a proper job with active filters.

The write-up is worth a read even if you are not in the market for a fancy tone control, for the basic primer it gives on designing an audio filter. The design contains, as you might expect, a low-pass, a bandpass, and a high-pass filter. These are built around TL072 FET-input op-amps, and an LM386 output stage is added to drive headphones.

The final project is built on a home-made PCB, complete with mains power supply. Audiophiles might demand more exotic parts, but we’re guessing that even with these proletarian components it will still sound pretty good. Probably better than the headphone amplifier featured in a recent project from a Hackaday writer, at least. There’s a build video, below the break.

Should you travel around Europe, you may notice that things in France are ever so slightly different. Not necessarily better or worse, simply that the French prefer to plough their own furrow rather than importing cultural tends from their neighbors.

In the 1980s this was evident in their home computers, because as well as a Minitel terminal in your house, you could have an all-French machine plugged into your TV. [Retro Krazy] has just such a machine — it’s a Matra Hachette Alice 32, and its red plastic case hides hardware any of us would have been proud to own back in the day.

At first sight it appears superficially similar to a Sinclair Spectrum, with its BASIC keywords next to the keys. But under that slightly calculator style AZERTY keyboard is an entirely different architecture, a Motorola 6803. The first Alice computer was a clone of a Radio Shack model, and while this one has no compatibility with its predecessor it retains some silicon choices. On the back are a series of DIN sockets, one for a SCART adapter, and more for serial connectivity and a cassette deck. The overall impression is of a well-engineered machine, even if that red color is a little garish.

The Alice hasn’t appeared here on its own before, but we have taken a look at French retrocomputers here in the past.

Over the history of the Web, we have seen several major shifts in browsing software. If you’re old enough to have used NCSA Mosaic or any of the other early browsers, you probably welcomed the arrival of Netscape Navigator, and rued its decline in the face of Internet Explorer. As Mozilla and then Firefox rose from Netscape’s corpse the domination by Microsoft seemed inevitable, but then along came Safari and then Chrome. For a glorious while there was genuine competition between browser heavyweights, but over the last decade we’ve arrived at a point where Chrome and its associated Google domination is the only game in town. Other players are small, and the people behind Firefox seem hell-bent on fleeing to the Dark Side, so where should we turn? Is there a privacy-centric open source browser that follows web standards and doesn’t come with any unfortunate baggage in the room? It’s time to find out.

It’s All In The Engine

If you look at the breadth of standards which a modern web browser has to support, it’s clear that writing a web browser is a Herculean task. Many browsers take the route of not trying to implement everything, for example minimalist browsers such as Dillo or NetSurf concentrate only on rendering web pages. For the purposes of this piece we’re looking at full-fat browsers capable of being a daily driver though, and for that a browser needs some very capable software. Many development teams are not capable of writing such a browser engine, and thus use one developed for another browser. Despite there being many names on the table then, peering under the hood there are surprisingly few options. The Apple Webkit and Google Blink family of browsers dominate, followed by Mozilla Gecko and its Goanna fork, and then by promising bit-part players such as Servo, or the Ladybird browser’s LibWeb. Having so much of the web’s browser software dominated by Apple and Google is not an ideal situation, but it’s where we find ourselves.

So when choosing a browser, the first thing we look at is its engine. Whose ecosystem are we becoming part of, and does that have any effect on us? Within reason all modern full-featured browser engines render websites the same, so there should be little to choose from in terms of the websites themselves.

Having considered the browser engine, next up are whatever the developer uses to differentiate themselves. It’s suprisingly straightforward to construct a bare-bones web browser on top of WebKit, so to stand out each browser has a unique selling point. Is it privacy you’re after, ad blocking, or just following a UI path abandoned by a previous browser? And perhaps most importantly, are you simply departing a problematic developer for one even shadier? It’s worth doing your homework, and not being afraid to try multiple browsers before you find your home.

So Where Did Hackaday Land?

Over the course of writing for Hackaday it’s inevitable that a bunch of different browsers will find their way on to my bench. Some of them like Ladybird or Servo I would love the chance to use as my daily driver, but they simply aren’t mature enough for my needs. Others such as Brave have too much of a whiff of controversy around them for someone seeking a quiet life of open-source obscurity. As I write this I have a preposterous number of browsers installed on my machine, and if there’s one thing which the experience has taught me it’s that they are much more the same than I expected. In three decades our expectation of a browser has homogenised to the extent that I’m hard pressed to tell between them. How do I pick one, without blindly throwing a dart at a corkboard covered in browser logos?

In the end, I looked for two candidates, one each from the Firefox and Apple/Google orbits. I tried them all, and settled on LibreWolf from the former, and Vivaldi from the latter. LibreWolf because it’s done a fine job of making Firefox without it being Firefox, and Vivaldi because its influence from the early Opera versions gave it a tiny bit of individuality missing in the others. I set up both with my usual  Hackaday bookmarks, tabs, and shortcuts, changed the search engine to the EU-based Qwant. I’m ready to go, with a bit more control over how my data is shared with the world once more.

A refugee from the early Web writes…

It’s a fairly regular occurrence, that I will Do a Linux Thing in my hackerspace, only to have one of my younger friends point out a much newer and better tool than the one I know, which I probably learned to use some time in the mid-1990s. I’ve fond looking at web browsers to be in some respects a similar experience even if the browsers are much closer to each other than I expected, because for a couple of decades now I’ve been a Firefox user simply because Firefox was the plucky upstart open-source browser. Mozilla’s previous attempts to take Netscape 6 and make it the only piece of Internet software you needed were horribly bloated, and Firefox, or “Phoenix” as it launched, was an easy choice. Just as my operating system journey taught me about software complacency a couple of years ago, so I’ve now had the same awakening in the browser. The Web will never look the same again.

It’s likely that among the readers of this article there will be many who collect something. Whether it’s rare early LEDs or first-year-of-manufacture microprocessors, you’ll scour the internet to find them, and eagerly await mystery packages from the other side of the world.

There’s a tale emerging from Australia featuring just such a collector, whose collection now has him facing a jail sentence for importing plutonium. The story however is not so clear-cut, featuring a media frenzy and over-reaction from the authorities worthy of Gatwick Airport. [Explosions&Fire] has a rather long video unpacking the events, which we’ve placed below the break.

Emmanuel Lidden is an element collector, someone who tries to assemble an entire Periodic Table in their collection. He ordered a range of elements from an American element collectors’ supply website, including samples of plutonium and thorium. He seems to have been unaware he was committing any crime, with the microscopic samples available from legitimate websites with no warnings attached. The case becomes murkier as the Australian authorities flagged the thorium sample and instructed the courier not to deliver it, which they did anyway. Then a raid of the type you’d expect for the terrorists who stole the plutonium in Back To The Future was launched, along with that Gatwick-esque media frenzy.

We’re inclined to agree that the penalty likely to be meted out to him for buying a sliver of a Soviet smoke detector embedded in a Lucite cube seems overly steep, but at the same time his obvious naivety over dealing in radioactive materials marks him as perhaps more than a little foolhardy. It’s something over which to ponder though, have we managed to amass anything illegal disguised as outdated devices? Have you? Perhaps it’s something to discuss in the comments.

The F-number of a photographic lens is a measure of its light-gathering ability, and is expressed as its aperture diameter divided by its focal length. Lenses with low F-numbers are prized by photographers for their properties, but are usually expensive because making a good one can be something of a challenge. Nevertheless [Rulof] is giving it a go, making an 80mm F0.5 lens with a Sony E-mount. The video below the break has all the details, and also serves as a fascinating primer on lens design if you are interested.

Rather than taking individual lenses, he’s starting with the second-hand lens from an old projector. It’s got the required huge aperture, but it’s by no means a photographic lens. An interesting component is his choice of diaphragm for the variable aperture, it’s a drafting aid for drawing circles which closely resembles a photographic part. This is coupled with the triplet from an old SLR lens in a 3D-printed enclosure, and the result is a lens that works even if it may not be the best. We know from experiences playing with lens systems that adjusting the various components of a compound lens like this one can be very difficult; we can see it has the much sought-after bokeh or blurred background, but it lacks sharpness.

Perhaps because a camera is an expensive purchase, we don’t see as much of this kind of hacking as we’d like. That’s not to say that lenses don’t sometimes make their way here.

We’ve seen a Linux-based operating system made to run on some widely varying pieces of hardware over the years, but [Dimity Grinberg]’s latest project may be one of the most unusual. It’s a PCB with 3 integrated circuits on it which doesn’t seem too interesting at first, but what makes it special is that all three of those chips are in 8-pin SOIC packages. How on earth can Linux run on 8-pin devices? The answer lies as you might expect, in emulation.

Two of the chips are easy to spot, a USB-to-serial chip and an SPI RAM chip. The processor is an STM32G0 series device, which packs a pretty fast ARM Cortex M0+ core. This runs a MIPS emulator that we’ve seen on a previous project, which is ripe for overclocking. At a 148 MHz clock it’s equivalent to a MIPS running at about 1.4 MHz, which is just about usable. Given that the OS in question is a full-featured Debian, it’s not running some special take on Linux for speed, either.

We like some of the hardware hacks needed to get serial, memory, and SD card, onto so few pins. The SD and serial share the same pins, with a filter in place to remove the high-frequency SPI traffic from the low-frequency serial traffic. We’re not entirely sure what use this machine could be put to, but it remains an impressive piece of work.

The console wars of the early 1990s had several players, but the battle that mattered was between Nintendo’s SNES and Sega’s Genesis, or Megadrive if you are European. They are both famous for their games, but in terms of software they can only run what’s on a cartridge. The Genesis has a Motorola 68000 on board though, which is capable of far more than just Sonic the Hedgehog. [EythorE] evidently thinks so, because here’s a port of Fusix, a UNIX-like OS, for the Sega platform.

As it stands, the OS is running on the BlastEm emulator, but given a Sega Saturn keyboard or a modified PC keyboard for the Sega, it could be run on real hardware. What you get is a basic UNIX-like OS with a working shell and the usual UNIX utilities. With 64k of memory to play with this will never be a powerhouse, but on the other hand we’d be curious to see it in a working cartridge.

Meanwhile, if the console interests you further, someone has been into its workings in great detail.

Header: Evan-Amos, CC BY-SA 3.0.

We’re used to there being an array of high-end microprocessor architectures, and it’s likely that many of us will have sat in front of machines running x86, ARM, or even PowerPC processors. There are other players past and present you may be familiar with, for example SPARC, RISC-V, or MIPS. Back in the 1990s there was another, now long gone but at the time the most powerful of them all, of course we’re speaking of DEC’s Alpha architecture. [JP] has a mid-90s AlphaStation that doesn’t work, and as part of debugging it we’re treated to a description of its unusual boot procedure.

Conventionally, an x86 PC has a ROM at a particular place in its address range, and when it starts, it executes from the start of that range. The Alpha is a little different, on start-up it needs some code from a ROM which configures it and sets up its address space. This is applied as a 1-bit serial stream, and like many things DEC, it’s a little unusual. This code lives in a conventional ROM chip with 8 data lines, and each of those lines contains a separate program selectable by a jumper. It’s a handy way of providing a set of diagnostics at the lowest level, but even with that discovery the weirdness isn’t quite over. We’re treated to a run-down of DEC Alpha code encoding, and should you have one of these machines, there’s all the code you need.

The Alpha was so special in the 1990s because with 64-bit and retargetable microcode in its architecture it was significantly faster than its competitors. From memory it could be had with DEC Tru64 UNIX, Microsoft Windows NT, or VMS, and with the last of which it was the upgrade path for VAX minicomputers. It faded away in the takeover by Compaq and subsequently HP, and we are probably the poorer for it. We look forward to seeing more about this particular workstation, should it come back to life.

The plethora of smart home devices available today deliver all manner of opportunities, but it’s fair to say that interfacing with them is more often done in the browser or an app than in the terminal. WattWise from [Naveen Kulandaivelu] is a tool which changes all that, it’s a command-line interface (CLI) for power monitoring smart plugs.

Written in Python, the tool can talk either directly to TP-Link branded smart plugs, or via Home Assistant. It tracks the power consumption with a simple graph, but the exciting part lies in how it can be used to throttle the CPU of a computer in order to use power at the points in the day when it is cheapest. You can find the code in a GitHub repository.

We like the idea of using smart plugs as instruments, even if they may not be the most accurate of measurement tools. It takes them even further beyond the simple functionality and walled-garden interfaces provided by their manufacturers, which in our view can only be a good thing.

Meanwhile, for further reading we’ve looked at smart plugs in detail in the past.

Early photography lacked the convenience of the stable roll film we all know, and instead relied on a set of processes which the photographer would have to master from film to final print. Photographic chemicals could be flammable or even deadly, and results took a huge amount of work.

The daguerreotype process of using mercury to develop pictures on polished metal, and the wet-collodion plate with its nitrocellulose solution are well-known, but as conservators at the British National Archives found out, there was another process that’s much rarer. The Pannotype uses a collodion emulsion, but instead of the glass plate used by the wet-plate process it uses a fabric backing.

We know so much about the other processes because they were subject to patents, but pannotype never had a patent due to a disagreement. Thus when the conservators encountered some pannotypes in varying states of preservation, they needed to apply modern analytical techniques to understand the chemistry and select the best methods of stabilization. The linked article details those analyses, and provides them with some pointers towards conserving their collection. We look forward to someone making pannotype prints here in 2025, after all it’s not the first recreation of early photography we’ve seen.

Prototyping is a personal affair, with approaches ranging from dead-bug parts on tinplate through stripboard and protoboard, to solderless breadboards and more. Whichever you prefer, a common problem is that they don’t offer much in the way of solid connections to the outside world. You could use break-out boards, or you could do like [Pakequis] and make a prototyping board with every connector you can think of ready to go.

The board features the expected prototyping space in the middle, and we weren’t joking when we said every connector. There are analogue, serial, USB, headers aplenty, footprints for microcontroller boards, an Arduino shield, a Raspberry Pi header, and much more. There will doubtless be ones that readers will spot as missing, but it’s a pretty good selection.

We can imagine that with a solderless breadboard stuck in the middle it could be a very useful aid for teaching electronics, and we think it would give more than a few commercial boards a run for their money. It’s not the first we’ve featured, either.

We use ARM devices in everything from our microcontroller projects to our laptops, and many of us are aware of the architecture’s humble beginnings in a 1980s Acorn Archimedes computer. ARM processors are not the only survivor from the Archimedes though, its operating system has made it through the decades as well.

RISC OS is a general purpose desktop operating system for ARM platforms that remains useful in 2025, as well as extremely accessible due to a Raspberry Pi port. No software can stand still though, and if RISC OS is to remain relevant it must move with the times. Thus RISC OS Open, the company behind its development, have launched what they call a Moonshots Initiative, moving the OS away from incremental development towards much bolder steps. This is necessary in order for it to support the next generation of ARM architectures.

We like RISC OS here at Hackaday and have kept up to date with its recent developments, but even we as fans can see that it is in part a little dated. From the point of view of RISC OS Open though, they identify support for 64-bit platforms as their highest priority, and to that end they’re looking for developers, funding partners, and community advocates. If that’s you, get in touch with them!

Music consumption has followed a trend over the last decade or more of abandoning physical media for online or streaming alternatives. This can present a problem for young children however, for whom a simpler physical interface may be an easier way to play those tunes. Maintaining a library of CDs is not entirely convenient either, so [JakesMD] has created the Yaydio. It’s a music player for kids, that plays music when a card is inserted in its slot.

As you might expect, the cards themselves do not contain the music. Instead they are NFC cards, and the player starts the corresponding album from its SD card when one is detected. The hardware is simple enough, an Arduino Nano with modules for MP3 playback, NFC reading, seven segment display, and rotary encoder. The whole thing lives in a kid-friendly 3D printed case.

Some thought has been given to easily adding albums and assigning cards to them, making it easy to keep up with the youngster’s tastes. This isn’t the first such kid-friendly music player we’ve seen, but it’s certainly pretty neat.