Digital poison can mess with algorithms. Lately, we just scroll through feeds, wondering how much of it is real. These algorithms decide what we see, and honestly, it all feels pretty opaque. The constant speculation about their operations is tiring. Can they really be corrupted? Who knows. Maybe it doesn't even matter anymore. #DigitalPoison #Algorithms #SocialMedia #OnlineContent #TechThoughts

Audio Localization Gear Built On The Cheap Most humans with two ears have a pretty good sense of directional hearing. However, you can build equipment to localize audio sources, too. That’s precisely what [Sam], [Ezra], and [Ari] …read more

AI visibility is pretty much about how often your brand shows up in tools like ChatGPT, Gemini, and Perplexity. If you're into tracking or growing your brand's presence, there's this guide that covers it. It's supposed to be expert-backed and all, but honestly, who knows? Just another thing to think about. If you want to dive into it, go ahead. If not, whatever. #AIVisibility #BrandPresence #LLMs #DigitalMarketing #ContentStrategy

The New Street Fighter Movie Has The Most Bizarre Cast Fighting game adaptations are some of the campiest, most absurd films in the already generally pretty absurd game-to-movie oeuvre. Films like the Mortal Kombat series, Dead or Alive, and the 1994 Street Fighter all possess a kind of so-bad-they’re-good ridiculousness that has made them cult classic guilty pleasures.…Read more...

Lithoz's 3D ceramic printing (LCM) tackles some boring challenges in the semiconductor industry. With the rising demand for microchips—thanks to smartphones, autonomous driving, and AI—things are getting a bit chaotic. There's a shortage of raw materials and trade conflicts, which is just... great. So, yeah, Lithoz's technology might help a little, but it all feels pretty slow and monotonous. #3DPrinting #Semiconductors #Lithoz #Technology #Microchips

Test Spirit of the North 2 – La promesse d’une liberté qui a un prix. So, there’s this game that came out called Spirit of the North 2. I guess it’s a sequel or something. The first one was released in 2019, and people seemed to like it. Now, they’re hyping up this new one with promises of freedom and all that jazz, but honestly, who knows if it’s even worth the bother? I mean, freedom in a game usually comes with a catch, right? The whole thing feels a bit dragged out. It’s like they took their time to make it, and now we’re all just sitting here, wondering if it’s really going to be something special or if it’s just more of the same. The original had its moments, sure, but it also had its dull parts. I can’t help but wonder if this one will follow suit. The storyline or whatever they’ve got going on seems to revolve around some themes of nature and exploration. Sounds nice, I guess, but in the end, it’s still a game. Will it keep my attention, or will I just end up staring at the screen, waiting for something interesting to happen? I guess we’ll find out. Gameplay-wise, they’re saying there’s a lot to explore and some mechanics that might make it feel fresh. But are we really excited about that? I mean, it all sounds pretty standard. There’s a promise of beautiful visuals, which is cool, but I’ve seen beautiful visuals before. It needs more than just that to keep me engaged. Overall, ‘la promesse d’une liberté qui a un prix’ feels like a fancy way of saying, “You might have to deal with some annoying stuff to enjoy the good bits.” It’s kind of a mixed bag, and I’m not sure if I want to open it or leave it sitting on the shelf for a while. Maybe I’ll check it out later, or maybe I’ll just go back to doing nothing in particular. Who knows? #SpiritOfTheNorth2 #Gaming #VideoGames #GameReview #InfuseStudio

Ah, the enchanting world of "Beautiful Accessibility"—where design meets a sweet sprinkle of dignity and a dollop of empathy. Isn’t it just delightful how we’ve collectively decided that making things accessible should also be aesthetically pleasing? Because, clearly, having a ramp that doesn’t double as a modern art installation would be just too much to ask. Gone are the days when accessibility was seen as a dull, clunky afterthought. Now, we’re on a quest to make sure that every wheelchair ramp looks like it was sculpted by Michelangelo himself. Who needs functionality when you can have a piece of art that also serves as a means of entry? You know, it’s almost like we’re saying, “Why should people who need help have to sacrifice beauty for practicality?” Let’s talk about that “rigid, rough, and unfriendly” stereotype of accessibility. Sure, it’s easy to dismiss these concerns. Just slap a coat of trendy paint on a handrail and voilà! You’ve got a “beautifully accessible” structure that’s just as likely to send someone flying off the side as it is to help them reach the door. But hey, at least it’s pretty to look at as they tumble—right? And let’s not overlook the underlying question: for whom are we really designing? Is it for the people who need accessibility, or is it for the fleeting approval of the Instagram crowd? If it’s the latter, then congratulations! You’re on the fast track to a trend that will inevitably fade faster than last season’s fashion. Remember, folks, the latest hashtag isn’t ‘#AccessibilityForAll’; it’s ‘#AccessibilityIsTheNewBlack,’ and we all know how long that lasts in the fickle world of social media. Now, let’s sprinkle in some empathy, shall we? Because nothing says “I care” quite like a designer who has spent five minutes contemplating the plight of those who can’t navigate the “avant-garde” staircase that serves no purpose other than to look chic in a photo. Empathy is key, but please, let’s not take it too far. After all, who has time to engage deeply with real human needs when there’s a dazzling design competition to win? So, as we stand at the crossroads of functionality and aesthetics, let’s all raise a glass to the idea of "Beautiful Accessibility." May it forever remain beautifully ironic and, of course, aesthetically pleasing—after all, what’s more dignified than a thoughtfully designed ramp that looks like it belongs in a museum, even if it makes getting into that museum a bit of a challenge? #BeautifulAccessibility #DesignWithEmpathy #AccessibilityMatters #DignityInDesign #IronyInAccessibility

So, there’s this thing about how Discord was ported to Windows 95 and NT 3.1. Honestly, it’s kind of interesting, but also a bit dull. Like, who even thinks about running Discord on those old systems? I mean, we’re all just used to the modern HTML and JavaScript-based client, right? It's funny to imagine people trying to connect on Discord using a system that's practically a museum piece. The whole idea of using a browser or that Electron package that still smells like a browser feels like the norm. But then again, what if there was a way to run Discord on those aged platforms? It’s a wild thought, but let’s be real—most of us would rather stick to our current setups. The article dives into the technical details, but let’s face it, who has the energy to sift through all that? It’s one of those things that sounds cooler on paper than it actually is in practice. I mean, sure, it’s neat that someone figured out how to make it work back in the day, but the reality is that most users don’t care about the logistics. They just want to chat, stream, or whatever it is people do on Discord nowadays. And it’s not like anyone is lining up to use Discord on Windows 95 or NT 3.1. I can’t even imagine the lag. I guess it’s just another piece of tech history that some people will find fascinating, while the rest of us just scroll past. So, yeah, that’s pretty much it. Discord on ancient systems is a thing. It happened. People did it. But let’s not pretend that it’s something we’re all eager to dive into. Honestly, I’d rather just scroll through memes or something. #Discord #Windows95 #TechHistory #OldSchool #Boredom

Zuzana Licko, a name that should be celebrated as a pioneer of digital typography, is instead a glaring reminder of how the past can be romanticized to the point of absurdity. Yes, she designed some of the first digital typefaces for Macintosh in the '80s and co-founded Emigre, but let’s not pretend that her contributions were flawless or that they didn’t come with a slew of problems that we still grapple with today. First off, we need to address the elephant in the room: the overwhelming elitism in the world of typography that Licko and her contemporaries helped propagate. While they were crafting their innovative typefaces, they were simultaneously alienating a whole generation of designers who lacked access to the tech and knowledge required to engage with this new digital frontier. The so-called "pioneers" of digital typography, including Licko, set a precedent that continues to dominate the industry—making it seem like you need to have an elite background to even participate in typography discussions. This is infuriating and downright unacceptable! Moreover, let’s not gloss over the fact that while she was busy creating typefaces that were supposed to revolutionize our digital experiences, the actual usability of these fonts often left much to be desired. Many of Licko's creations, while visually striking, ultimately sacrificed legibility for the sake of artistic expression. This is a major flaw in her work that deserves criticism. Typography is not just about looking pretty; it’s about ensuring that communication is clear and effective! How many times have we seen products fail because the font was so pretentious that no one could read it? And don’t even get me started on Emigre magazine. Sure, it showcased some brilliant work, but it also became a breeding ground for snobbery and elitism in the design community. Instead of fostering a space for all voices, it often felt like a closed club for the privileged few. This is not what design should be about! We need to embrace diversity and inclusivity, rather than gatekeeping knowledge and opportunity. In an era where technology has advanced exponentially, we still see remnants of this elitist mindset in the design world. The influence of Licko and her contemporaries has led to a culture that often sidelines emerging talents who bring different perspectives to the table. Instead of uplifting new voices, we are still trapped in a loop of revering the same old figures and narratives. This is not progress; it’s stagnation! Let’s stop romanticizing pioneers like Zuzana Licko without acknowledging the problematic aspects of their legacies. We need to have critical conversations about how their work has shaped the industry, not just celebrate them blindly. If we truly want to honor their contributions, we must also confront the issues they created and work towards a more inclusive, accessible, and practical approach to digital typography. #Typography #DesignCritique #ZuzanaLicko #DigitalArt #InclusivityInDesign

In a world where creativity reigns supreme, Adobe has just gifted us with a shiny new toy: the Firefly Boards. Yes, folks, it’s the collaborative moodboarding app that has emerged from beta, as if it were a butterfly finally breaking free from its cocoon—or maybe just a slightly confused caterpillar trying to figure out what it wants to be. Now, why should creative agencies care about this groundbreaking development? Well, because who wouldn’t want to spend hours staring at a digital canvas filled with pretty pictures and random color palettes? Firefly Boards promises to revolutionize the way we moodboard, or as I like to call it, "pretending to be productive while scrolling through Pinterest." Imagine this: your team, huddled around a computer, desperately trying to agree on the shade of blue that will represent their brand. A task that could take days of heated debate is now streamlined into a digital playground where everyone can throw their ideas onto a board like a toddler at a paint store. But let's be real. Isn’t this just a fancy way of saying, “Let’s all agree on this one aesthetic and ignore all our differences”? Creativity is all about chaos, and yet, here we are, trying to tidy up the mess with collaborative moodboarding apps. What’s next? A group hug to decide on the font size? Of course, Adobe knows that creative agencies have an insatiable thirst for shiny features. They’ve marketed Firefly Boards as a ‘collaborative’ tool, but let’s face it—most of us are just trying to find an excuse to use the 'fire' emoji in a professional setting. It’s as if they’re saying, “Trust us, this will make your life easier!” while we silently nod, hoping that it won’t eventually lead to a 10-hour Zoom call discussing the merits of various shades of beige. And let’s not forget the inevitable influx of social media posts proclaiming, “Check out our latest Firefly Board!” — because nothing says ‘creative genius’ quite like a screenshot of a digital board filled with stock images and overused motivational quotes. Can’t wait to see how many ‘likes’ that garners! So, dear creative agencies, while you’re busy diving into the wonders of Adobe Firefly Boards, remember to take a moment to appreciate the irony. You’re now collaborating on moodboards, yet it feels like we’ve all just agreed to put our creative souls on a digital leash. But hey, at least you’ll have a fun platform to pretend you’re being innovative while you argue about which filter to use on your next Instagram post. #AdobeFirefly #Moodboarding #CreativeAgencies #DigitalCreativity #DesignHumor