#oneaday Day 863: Where to even begin

One of the things that I've wanted to do for many years is get to grips with really being able to program the Atari 8-bit. This will be a completely useless and unmarketable skill for me to learn, but with the Atari 8-bit in particular having always been so important to me, it feels like a natural step in my enjoyment of the hobby. Only trouble is: I don't really know where to begin!

I still have a vague knowledge of Atari BASIC from my days typing in listings as a kid and inventing my own programs way back when, but I suspect a lot of the intricacies may have fallen out of my head at some point, as I haven't really done anything substantial in Atari BASIC since… well, since it was current and relevant. Beyond that, though, there are a wide variety of things that are a complete mystery to me. And I think the sheer wealth of things it's possible to learn, even on an old computer like an Atari 8-bit, is what makes it so daunting.

Do you get in-depth about how to handle variables and strings? Do you figure out the mathematical functions? Do you learn what all the different default graphics modes do, and what they are best used for? Do you tinker with the sound capabilities of the POKEY sound chip? Do you learn how to display, move and otherwise use player/missile graphics, aka hardware sprites? Do you learn about the display list, and how a display list interrupt is a different thing from manipulating the display list? Do you learn what a vertical blank interrupt is, and how to use it? And at what point in all of this do you "graduate" from BASIC to machine code?

This constant string of questions, which I could have extended to at least five times that length, is probably the big thing that holds me back from actually dipping into "learning how to program the Atari 8-bit" as a serious hobby. I'm sure there isn't really a "bad" place to start — and having an idea of what I would like to be able to program is probably a good way of determining what things I should focus on looking at first — but it's that old Analysis Paralysis thing again; when confronted with seemingly infinite options, you end up choosing none of them.

So I think the answer is probably just to pick a book — of which there are many available on the subject of Atari 8-bit programming, coming at it from myriad angles — and work my way through it. All of it. Then, from there, I can learn where I might want to head next, or figure out where the gaps in my knowledge are. Ultimately, then, I can develop a solid understanding of all the things I might "need" to know in order to be able to program the system effectively.

The reason why this is all on my mind right now is, of course, because of the increasing number of AI slop projects I've been seeing in retro gaming. Over on the website Atarimania today, two out of the four new additions to the database have "developed using AI" disclaimers on them. And one might ask: why don't I just "get the AI to do it for me"? Surely it is easier than ever to shit out a program-shaped object using Claude (they had to pick the cuntiest name possible for it, didn't they?) and then convince everyone that "I made this"?

Well, no. If you've spent any time reading this blog over the last few years, you'll know that this would provide me with absolutely no satisfaction whatsoever. Just because "an easy option" exists now doesn't mean I want or need to take it. In fact, I feel like with how likely it is that the AI bubble is going to burst and all of this crap is just going to go away one day — and God, I long for that day — it is all the more valuable to learn how to do something like this properly.

What I'd love to be able to do is create a game for the Atari 8-bit. That feels like a very far-off goal right now — but one way of looking at it is that back in the '80s, people had a fraction of the reference resources we have today (and no, I don't count AI in that) and were still able to learn how to do these things in their own time relatively quickly. So with a bit of determination, dedication and actually setting a bit of time aside to do this, I feel like I might be able to learn something.

As I say, it'll be something that is mostly useless and not really marketable, but who cares? Remember a time when hobbies were just things you did because they were fun, and you didn't feel the need to monetise them or even share them with others? I'm thinking that's what this has to be. Something that is just for me; something that I want to learn for myself. Not because I want to make and sell a game, but just because it's something I've always wanted to learn, and to be able to make something for my own satisfaction.

So I think maybe for the rest of this evening I might go spend some time tinkering in Atari BASIC on the ol' MiSTer…

Want to read my thoughts on various video games, visual novels and other popular culture things? Stop by MoeGamer.net, my site for all things fun where I am generally a lot more cheerful. And if you fancy watching some vids on classic games, drop by my YouTube channel.

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#oneaday Day 469: Where have all the 5.25" drives gone?

Earlier today, I had an idle thought that has occurred to me numerous times over the last little while, but today I thought I'd look into actually doing something about it.

A while back, I bought a Greaseweazle, which is a USB device you can connect to a modern PC at one end and a floppy disk drive at the other, then "rip" floppies using a particularly accurate method of imaging known as flux imaging. These images can then be converted into various formats, such as those commonly used with emulators (or MiSTer), and can then be safely archived.

I've got two boxes of 5.25" Atari 8-bit disks in my cupboard upstairs that I'd quite like to get all the stuff off — assuming the discs themselves have survived. I know some of them have (and, equally, some appear to have not) and so I thought it would be a nice, interesting and fun thing to do to archive my unique collection of disks, which in some respects are a snapshot of family life in the mid 1980s.

Besides the obvious disks full of pirated games, my brother and I both had our own disks that we'd save BASIC programs to — both those that we'd typed in from magazines, and those which we'd written ourselves. Then there's a bunch of disks that my Mum and Dad did stuff with — my Dad did all manner of things, including writing, music and various productivity things (that and Flight Simulator II, which "isn't a game") while my Mum, on several occasions, spent some time writing. My brother made pictures with AtariArtist. And I'm sure there are plenty of other hidden treasures among them, too.

Now, here's the problem. I bought the Greaseweazle with a mind to making some floppy disks that could be used with the Atari ST, which uses 3.5" 360K or 720K disks. (Actually, Atari format can push the 800K+ mark, but they're broadly MS-DOS compatible, so 720K is a sensible limit for everyday use.) The device worked great for that, though I ultimately got an UltraSatan for the ST (which is an SD card-based storage solution that effectively emulates a hard drive) and have now moved on to the MiSTer for most of my retro computing needs and wants.

I'd been putting off getting a 5.25" drive to archive these big boxes of Atari stuff, though. I knew the process of getting a 5.25" drive hooked up was a little more involved, for one thing, since a 3.5" floppy drive can power itself from the Greaseweazle, while a 5.25" drive generally needs an external power source. But something in me today said "right, go on, get this sorted". So I headed for eBay in search of what I thought would be an easy thing to find: an old, discarded but working 5.25" floppy disk drive that someone had grabbed out of an obsolete PC and decided to sell online.

Reader, it turns out that 5.25" drives are not, in fact, easy to find. In fact, there seem to be very few floating around out there, and the ones that are are surprisingly expensive. While you can score yourself a 3.5" drive very easily — and it probably be in decent working order, too — 5.25" drives are, apparently, like gold dust.

I did find one promising looking unit earlier, which was actually a self-contained enclosure with a power supply and two 5.25" floppy drives, but after bidding on it a few times, the price went a little higher than I was comfortable paying, so I dropped out. (Also, I was having dinner at the time the auction ended, so I kind of sort of forgot to check in.) The final price was over £80, though, which would have probably given me a certain degree of buyer's remorse. Or maybe not. I guess now we'll never know.

I'll keep keeping an eye out for reasonably priced drives, though. I really would like to get those disks archived and share them with my family — it's something I probably should have done a long time ago (before 5.25" drives went completely extinct, apparently) but I guess it's going to be a bit of effort to get up and running!

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#oneaday Day 331: Visit The Cave

It occurs to me that a while back, I went to visit the Retro Collective museums over in Gloucestershire, and I don't think I actually wrote about the experience. Looking back at my Google Photos, it seems that it was 2023 (wow) when I went, and I hadn't yet kicked off this particular round of #oneaday shenanigans back then. In fact, the only thing I wrote about on this blog in the month that I went was a vitriolic diatribe on how much I detested the TikTokification of comedy, something which, rewatching Friends, the subject of much of that post, I still maintain my position on. But I digress.

So! Anyway, what am I talking about? Well, the Retro Collective is a group of people and organisations that make their home in an old mill in Chalford, Gloucestershire, just outside of Stroud. The main attractions for most visitors are the two hands-on interactive museums: "The Cave" upstairs for retro computers, consoles and general gaming tech, and the "Arcade Archive" downstairs for… well, I think you can probably guess.

The Cave is run by Neil Thomas, a thoroughly lovely gentleman who started a retro tech YouTube channel back in 2012, and gradually became considerably more ambitious with what he was getting up to. Notably, he actually followed through on those ambitions, and the result, in collaboration with the other members of the Retro Collective, is a fantastic day out for anyone with the slightest interest in the history of computing and video games.

Neil still makes YouTube videos along with running The Cave — an operation which has a number of regular staffers and volunteers helping out — and he often does restorations on classic computer hardware. If you're into that sort of thing, his YouTube channel, which is now the home of the whole Retro Collective on YouTube, is well worth a follow. You might even see a familiar face in the video below:

The Cave is designed to be nostalgic and comfortable to explore and experience. The main room is absolutely packed with classic computer and console hardware, and the vast majority of it is hands-on and interactive. If you had a favourite computer or console growing up, chances are it's there, and there are plenty of games available to play on it. But there are also lesser-known devices to fiddle around with too, some of which are on a bit of a rotation thanks to being on loan from other collectors, and others of which are part of the permanent collection.

A particular highlight when I went back in 2023 was the Sharp X68000, which, as any fans of Japanese gaming will know, is a bit of a "holy grail" of home computers. Immensely capable and home to some near-as-dammit arcade-perfect ports, as well as games that were as good as — if not better than — the 16-bit consoles of the era, it was a pleasure to finally have a play with this, even if I inadvertently found the inevitable hentai puzzle game that had snuck into the collection of games installed on the machine's hard drive! (I wasn't looking for it, honest. I was more enamoured with the system's excellent version of Namco's Star Luster, anyway.)

As well as all the classic machines that are set up and ready to play, there's a bunch of less common, more valuable stuff on display, with resources to learn about them. There's a huge library of magazines you can browse through at your leisure. And one of the most impressive parts is a little side room built to resemble the software section of a WHSmiths circa 1990. Not only is this an immensely nostalgic recreation of a long-gone shopping experience, but it's interactive, too; the room is equipped with a MiSTer Multisystem hooked up to a barcode scanner, which allows you to scan the barcode of any game in the "shop" and play it. Very nifty.

The Arcade Archive, meanwhile, for which tickets are sold separately — though you can buy tickets for both The Cave and the Arcade Archive at the same time, visiting one in the morning and the other in the afternoon — is situated downstairs in the mill, and is… well, it's just a recreation of a classic arcade. It's dark, lit with neon signs, filled with the noise of a variety of machines competing for your attention, and they've all been lovingly restored to full working order (and free play!) for you to explore and play as much as you like.

Like The Cave, the Arcade Archive has both a permanent collection and a rotating selection of guest cabinets on loan from other collectors. At the time I visited, a particularly noteworthy inclusion was a little-known Nintendo arcade machine known as Sky Skipper, which had quite an interesting story behind it.

Elsewhere in the mill is the engineering company Heber, who work on a wide variety of interesting things, many of which have a retro gaming focus. Notably, they're responsible for the design and manufacturing of the aforementioned MiSTer Multisystem and its upcoming follow-up model, but they also make accessories and all manner of other bits and bobs.

I can't recommend The Cave and the Arcade Archive enough if you want a great, highly interactive day out, whether you're a grown-up or a kid… or just a kid at heart. The museums are immaculately kept by people who absolutely love what they do, and you feel the passion for everything the moment you walk in the door. It's a truly special experience that everyone involved with the Retro Collective has created, and I'm looking forward to paying the place another visit sometime soon.

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