Remember installing a new game, gathering friends for a LAN party, and knowing that your purchase would last forever? Those days feel increasingly distant as modern gaming shifts towards “live service” models that can vanish at a publisher’s whim.

The “Stop Killing Games” movement has caught my attention lately, particularly as someone who still has a dusty collection of 90s PC games that work perfectly fine today. This European citizens’ initiative aims to protect consumer rights by requiring publishers to provide ways for players to keep their games running after official support ends.

The tech community never ceases to amaze me with their innovative projects. Recently, I came across a fascinating development that brought back memories of playing Portal in my study during those late-night gaming sessions - a fully offline implementation of GLaDOS running on a single board computer.

For those unfamiliar with Portal, GLaDOS is the passive-aggressive AI antagonist who promises cake but delivers deadly neurotoxin instead. While the original was purely fictional, someone has managed to create a working version that runs on minimal hardware, complete with voice recognition and text-to-speech capabilities.

The pendulum seems to be swinging back on remote work, and not in a way that many of us are happy about. Looking at recent discussions online, there’s a clear trend of companies pushing for more office presence, typically settling around that magic number of three days per week.

Working in tech for over two decades, I’ve witnessed numerous workplace transformations, but none quite as dramatic as the COVID-induced shift to remote work. Now, watching companies backpedal on their WFH policies feels like watching a streaming service suddenly reverting to scheduled programming – it just doesn’t make sense anymore.

The latest news about our dollar potentially dropping to pandemic-era lows has been making waves in financial circles, and it’s hard not to feel a bit uneasy about what this means for our economic future. The morning discussion over my batch brew at my local café turned pretty serious when this topic came up.

Let’s be honest - our economy has always had this peculiar relationship with rocks. Not just any rocks, mind you, but specifically the iron ore we’ve been digging up and shipping off to China for decades. This dependency has served us well during the mining boom, but now it’s starting to look like a double-edged sword. With China’s construction industry cooling off and their economy showing signs of struggle, our dollar is feeling the impact.

Looking through various online discussions about the most interesting or impactful years in human history got me thinking about how we perceive historical significance while living through potentially transformative times. The ongoing AI revolution has sparked quite a debate about whether 2022-2024 will be remembered as a pivotal moment in human history.

The rapid advancement of AI technology over the past couple of years has been nothing short of extraordinary. Sitting here in my home office, watching the progression from GPT-3 to ChatGPT, then GPT-4, and now the promises of even more capable systems, reminds me of those grainy documentaries about the early days of aviation. Someone in an online forum made a fascinating comparison between our current AI developments and the evolution of aircraft after the Wright brothers. We remember the Wright brothers’ first flight, but not necessarily the crucial improvements that followed.

The recent hack of the US Treasury Department has sparked quite a discussion in tech circles, and it’s hitting close to home for those of us who’ve spent time in government IT. Reading through the online commentary, there’s a clear pattern emerging about why these incidents keep happening, and it’s not just about technical vulnerabilities.

Working in tech, I’ve witnessed firsthand how government departments often struggle with the same fundamental issues: inadequate funding, rigid hiring practices, and an institutional resistance to change. The Treasury hack isn’t just a technical failure; it’s a symptom of a broader systemic problem.

The discussion around AI development often draws comparisons to historical technological breakthroughs, particularly the Manhattan Project. While scrolling through tech forums yesterday, this comparison caught my eye, and frankly, it misses the mark by a considerable margin.

The Manhattan Project was a centralized, government-controlled endeavor with a clear objective. Today’s AI landscape couldn’t be more different. We’re witnessing a dispersed, global race driven by private corporations, each pursuing their own interests with varying degrees of transparency. From my desk in the tech sector, I see this fragmented approach creating unique challenges that nobody faced in the 1940s.

The post-Christmas shopping frenzy is upon us, and like many others, I’ve been contemplating whether to brave the crowds for a new suit. The last time I purchased one was for a wedding three years ago, and honestly, it’s starting to show its age. Plus, those pandemic kilos aren’t doing any favours to the fit.

Wandering through the CBD yesterday, I noticed the usual suspects - Myer, David Jones, and various boutiques - all sporting their red and white sale signs. The discounts look impressive at first glance, but experience has taught me to be skeptical of those “up to 70% off” claims. They usually apply to that one hideous paisley tie nobody wanted in the first place.

Recently stumbled upon a job listing that perfectly encapsulates everything wrong with the current tech hiring landscape. Picture this: an “entry-level” developer position requiring 3+ years of team management experience, preferably a master’s degree, and - here’s the kicker - offering a salary that’s actually below minimum wage for full-time work in Australia.

The mental gymnastics required to label a position requiring three years of experience and a master’s degree as “entry-level” is truly Olympic-worthy. We’re talking about someone who’s invested potentially seven years between education and work experience, yet they’re supposed to accept a salary that would’ve been questionable even back in the early 2000s.

The other day, while scrolling through various tech forums, I stumbled upon something that perfectly encapsulates our modern approach to everyday problems: someone had 3D printed a laundry care symbol chart. The irony wasn’t lost on me - using cutting-edge technology to decode symbols that have been on our clothing tags for decades.

Looking at the comments, it’s fascinating to see how many people in their late twenties and thirties admit they have no idea what these symbols mean. The generational shift is quite evident - my mum would have memorized every single one of these symbols, while many of us just chuck everything in the wash and hope for the best.