In Praise of Partimage

For weeks now, I’ve been attempt­ing to wran­gle Syman­tec Ghost, the cor­po­rate cousin of Nor­ton Ghost, to back up and restore the con­tents of a par­ti­tion on a RAID. I’ve fought with device dri­vers, man­u­ally built Win­dows PE images using WAIK with Symantec’s out­dated instruc­tions, fought off con­tin­ual pes­ter­ing from a prob­a­bly well-meaning call cen­tre oper­a­tive, and sig­nif­i­cantly con­tributed to the drinks coaster industry.

Pile of Useless Boot CDs

In des­per­a­tion, I won­dered if a sim­ple dd from a Linux LiveCD would do the job, and the help­ful folk at the UNIX/Linux Stack Exchange pointed me at var­i­ous par­tim­age–based backup/recovery dis­tros such as Clonezilla and PING.

Sur­prise sur­prise… they worked out of the box with no has­sle whatsoever.

PartImage Running Successfully

Now they may have a few issues — PING, for exam­ple, has a par­tic­u­larly odd inter­pre­ta­tion of the func­tion of the “Can­cel” but­ton on occa­sion — but they do the job, for free, in min­utes, com­pared to the hun­dreds of pounds and weeks of my time I unsuc­cess­fully put into try­ing to use their com­mer­cial equivalent.

The slow, steady rise of open source soft­ware has never given us “The Year of Linux on the Desk­top”, but it has vastly increased the num­ber of times that I think “there must be some advan­tage to this com­mer­cial pro­gram that jus­ti­fies its cost” before quickly real­is­ing that no, there really isn’t.

Please Draw on my GUI!

For my cur­rent project, my mock-ups have now pro­gressed to the Pow­er­Point stage, which sits between white­board draw­ings and actual code, and thus lets me briefly pre­tend to be a real user expe­ri­ence per­son. Rather than con­sign­ing it to my hard drive for all eter­nity, I fig­ured I’d get some input on it from the rest of my team — and, in for a penny and so on, every­one else who sets foot in the office.

They’re pinned up on the wall, along­side the following:

Please Draw on my GUI!

So far, it appears to be work­ing. And astound­ingly, no dicks yet either. It can only be a mat­ter of time.

Not So Fleeting Anymore

I took my first fal­ter­ing steps “online” in the mid-90s, cour­tesy of Trum­pet Winsock under Win­dows 3.1, fol­lowed by AOL’s UK Games Chat, doubt­less a gate­way drug to the life of Usenet and IRC that fol­lowed; hop­ing and plead­ing that my par­ents wouldn’t pick up the phone and hear the tell­tale 14.4 kilo­bit buzzing that gave away my illicit inter­net usage.

Trumpet WinsockIsn’t “going online” such a strange notion now, when “offline” is only achieved by blog­gers camp­ing in the woods as a pub­lic­ity stunt; a week with­out the inter­net in exchange for their fif­teen sec­onds of inter­net fame?

Every­thing I did online in those days, every­thing I was, is long gone now. IRC logs lost to for­mat­ted hard dri­ves; Usenet posts beyond any server’s reten­tion time; my background-MIDI hell of a web­site that prob­a­bly died with Geoc­i­ties.  But since the turn of the mil­len­nium, some­thing has been hap­pen­ing — the inter­net is less fleet­ing; more per­ma­nent.  The blog was on the rise.

It was a lit­tle over ten years ago that I penned this waste of the Eng­lish lan­guage, which has sur­vived a trip from a web­site of my own con­coc­tion, through Live­Jour­nal and Dru­pal to where it now rests as the old­est entry that has made it to my cur­rent blog.  (Sadly, I can­not say the same for the HTML for­mat­ting or the image to which it once linked.)  The fol­lies of my youth (at least, from age 16 onwards) are now pre­served for the world to see.

The eighteen-year-old spout­ing bad phi­los­o­phy.  The nineteen-year-old who wanted to be a child for­ever.  The twenty-year-old that saw him­self though the eyes of char­ac­ters he played.  The twenty-one-year-old that thought he’d be with his friends for­ever, and the twenty-two-year-old that started to realise he wouldn’t.  The twenty-four-year-old who geeked out, the twenty-five-year-old that got polit­i­cal, and the twenty-six-year-old who over­analy­ses his son’s ques­tions.

Noth­ing is deleted any­more, noth­ing lost to his­tory.  Those thoughts that I don’t com­mit to blog­gery, Twit­ter and Face­book keep for pos­ter­ity or for mar­ket­ing potential.

My son is four now; it won’t be too many years before he’s able to browse the ‘net by him­self and to stum­ble upon his father’s teenage wit­ter­ing.  What will he make of the way I cryp­ti­cally tried to fig­ure out how to reject his mother when she first asked me out, or the drama-tastic marker I placed in apol­ogy for a post I removed — a post made when I was not exactly espous­ing the virtues expected of a father.

Joseph's Laptop Now.It’s prob­a­bly the kind of detail he won’t want to know about my life, in much the same way as I’m happy with my lack of knowl­edge of my own father’s young adult­hood.  And, briefly, I con­sid­ered delet­ing most of it — the per­sonal stuff, at least.

But as I con­sid­ered it, walk­ing home in the dark, I passed the nurs­ing home that adver­tises “a spe­cial neigh­bour­hood for the mem­ory impaired”.  Should I ever get to that point, and should my fam­ily not fol­low my explicit instruc­tions to pack me off to Dig­ni­tas the minute I become a bur­den on them, I can’t think of a bet­ter way to hold onto my mem­o­ries than to have them acces­si­ble and search­able from wher­ever I may be.

Every scrap of drama, every bawl­ing whinge, every point­less meme and every polit­i­cal dia­tribe made me who I am today, and some­day I may be grate­ful to read it all again.

(Though seri­ously, I have posted a ton of crap over the years.  Man, I should never have been allowed on LiveJournal.)

Glitch: A Beautiful Something

My name is Cheese­fish, and against all logic it is one of the more mun­dane names I have come across.  I am wear­ing a sari and I have a fox on my head.  My hobby: squeez­ing chick­ens.  My mis­sion: to become the finest chef the world of Glitch has ever seen.

Glitch is a browser-based, entirely combat-free, mas­sively mul­ti­player online game. And for the last few days, it has been some­thing of an obses­sion. It is Maple Story, if Maple Story cut the com­bat (and the Korean-ness) and focussed solely on explo­ration and craft­ing mechan­ics. And it’s the explo­ration that makes it. As a 2D scrolling flash game, there are none of World of War­craft or Guild Wars’ sweep­ing vis­tas here, but it makes up for it in vari­ety. One moment you may be explor­ing a lush and utterly nor­mal for­est, but one stop on the ever-present inter­con­ti­nen­tal sub­way drops you off in a land of pas­tel where the hills have eyes.

Stranger places still await the intre­pid explorer. Keita Taka­hashi, cre­ator of Kata­mari Damacy, has had his hands on this game and it cer­tainly shows. (The other more recog­nis­able mem­bers of the team are, bizarrely, the founders of Flickr.) There have clearly been some… unique minds behind the design of this game, which become most appar­ent when acquir­ing raw mate­ri­als from the environment.

Need meat? You get it by nib­bling on pigs, but only after pet­ting them. Milk? From but­ter­flies of course, but they must be mas­saged first. Grain can be obtained by squeez­ing chick­ens, but eggs? Oh, right. Egg plants.

From the odd inter­ac­tions with fauna to the bizarre con­trap­tions you can use, the ever-humorous quest descrip­tions and the pet rock that does your learn­ing for you, there’s a strange sense of humour at work here and it works very well indeed.

Glitch is also an exam­ple of one of my most hated things — an Energy-based game that has no end. But here, it doesn’t feel mali­cious like the game-killing ‘games’ of Zynga and Play­fish. Energy is plen­ti­ful and refills com­pletely every few hours, and even with my character’s mediocre cook­ing skills, she can eas­ily whip up enough odd food and drinks to keep her energy and mood full. Skills are learned over min­utes, hours or days of real time, but again unlike Far­mVille and its kin, they’re not just a mech­a­nism to drag you back to the game. There doesn’t feel like an urgency to get them learned, and besides, you can man­age them from the web­site or the iOS app with­out hav­ing to touch the game itself.

So what the heck is Glitch? It doesn’t seem much like a game, as there’s no way to win and no rea­son to com­pete against any­one. It’s a world to explore, to cre­ate and add to, and appar­ently, to hold farm­ers’ mar­kets in.

It resem­bles noth­ing quite so much as a twenty-first cen­tury upgrade of the MUSH, the shared envi­ron­ments from the early ‘90s. If it allows any­thing like a MUSH’s abil­ity for play­ers to cre­ate and expand the world, it will be a won­der. But cre­at­ing with text is easy; doing so with graph­ics much more com­plex, and I can’t imag­ine the com­pany behind Glitch giv­ing up cre­ative con­trol so readily.

But even with­out that, even with­out an idea of what it is and what it’s going to be, it’s cer­tainly a beau­ti­ful some­thing.

SuccessWhale is Terrifying: VPS Edition

Just under two years ago, my Suc­cess­Whale Twit­ter client was gain­ing new users at a steady rate and, as I noticed with alarm, was about to blow through my then-limited band­width allowance.

I’ve since relo­cated all my web stuff to Dreamhost, tak­ing advan­tage of their unlim­ited band­width offer­ing to plow through 10 GB and more a month. But now I’m com­ing up against the last remain­ing limit of my shared host­ing — mem­ory usage.

Both West­min­ster Hub­ble, which con­stantly crawls MPs’ social net­works and RSS feeds, and an increas­ingly com­plex Suc­cess­Whale, churn through a ton of mem­ory. I don’t have a nice scary graph for this one, but at peak times, I’d esti­mate that my web server kills over half my PHP processes due to excess mem­ory use. That means Only Dream­ing basi­cally goes down, while Suc­cess­Whale throws errors around if it even loads at all.

It looks like I’m left tak­ing the expen­sive plunge of mov­ing my host­ing to a VPS rather than a shared solu­tion, which is a jump I’m ner­vous to make, espe­cially since none of my web prop­er­ties make me any money. Most wor­ry­ing of all is that VPS prices tend to vary by avail­able mem­ory, and I don’t actu­ally know how much mem­ory all my stuff would take up if it were allowed free rein. And nor do I have any way of find­ing out, bar jump­ing ship to a VPS and tak­ing advan­tage of free trial weeks.

So, dear lazy­web, do you have any expe­ri­ence with this sort of thing? And can any­one rec­c­om­mend a good (cheap!) VPS host that ful­fils the fol­low­ing criteria:

  • LAMP stack with “P” being both PHP and Python (or *BSD instead of Linux)
  • Full shell access
  • Unlim­ited (or at least 100 GB) bandwidth
  • Unlim­ited (or at least 10 GB) disk space
  • At least 20 MySQL databases
  • IMAP mail­boxes & mail forwarding

I’ve been rec­om­mended lin­ode by a friend which seems great for tin­ker­ing, though the price scales up rapidly with RAM use and I’m not sure I want to deal with the has­sle of set­ting up Apache, MySQL etc. by myself. And there’s Dreamhost’s own offer­ing, which would be vir­tu­ally zero-hassle to switch to, but prob­a­bly isn’t the cheap­est around.

So, cit­i­zens of the inter­web, I seek your advice!

Announcing: SuccessWhale version 2.0!

Ladies and Gen­tle­men of the Inter­net, I am pleased to announce that Suc­cess­Whale ver­sion 2.0 has just been released and is now live on SuccessWhale.com.

Suc­cess­Whale is a web-based client for Twit­ter and Face­book, writ­ten in PHP, JavaScript and MySQL. It offers a multi-column view that allows users to merge together infor­ma­tion from all their con­nected accounts and view it at a glance from any web browser.

The big changes between ver­sion 1.1.2 and 2.0 are:

  • Face­book support
  • Sup­port for mul­ti­ple Twit­ter (and Face­book) accounts
  • As many columns as you want
  • Columns that com­bine mul­ti­ple feeds
  • Light­boxed images from Twit­pic and yFrog
  • New themes
  • Numer­ous bug fixes!

You can see a screen­shot of it in action below:

SuccessWhale Screenshot

I would par­tic­u­larly like to thank Alex Hut­ter, Hugo Day, Erica Ren­ton and Rg Enzon, whose help in find­ing bugs and sug­gest­ing new fea­tures has been instru­men­tal in bring­ing Suc­cess­Whale up to ver­sion 2.0 today.

Suc­cess­Whale is an open source project, and the source code is licenced under the GPL v3.

My BlackBerry Week

My phone, an HTC Desire HD, is a gor­geous slate of metal and glass; thin but with a huge screen, and when I bought it back in Decem­ber of 2010, it was the most pow­er­ful and capa­ble phone on the mar­ket. It is part of the future of ‘com­put­ing’, capa­ble of 99% of what I use my lap­top com­puter for. It’s also irre­sistible to my Cut the Rope-completionist son, and unfor­tu­nately, heavy gam­ing use drains the bat­tery in a lit­tle under three hours. Nor­mal use, for me, toasts it in between 8 and 12.

Repeat­edly frus­trated at not being able to use my phone to make calls or nav­i­gate at the end of car jour­neys with my son, I set to think­ing about what I actu­ally use my phone for. The major­ity of my phone use boils down to, roughly in order:

  1. Twit­ter
  2. Face­book
  3. Text mes­sag­ing
  4. Actu­ally call­ing people

BlackBerry Curve 3GI won­dered what would be the phone that min­imised cost, max­imised bat­tery life, allowed me to do those four things hap­pily, and most of all was com­pletely unat­trac­tive to my son. I set­tled on a Black­Berry Curve 3G (9300). So with­out fur­ther ado, after a week’s worth of use, my thoughts about my new sec­ond phone. In case any other Android users are tempted to come to the dark side, this is roughly what to expect:

Like:

Phys­i­cal Keyboard

I’ve always felt that phones with slid­ing parts were a lit­tle less inde­struc­tible than I’d like, so this is my first phone with a phys­i­cal QWERTY key­board. And boy, is it nice. RIM have a well-deserved rep­u­ta­tion here, and after a week of use I’m already typ­ing faster than I could on the Desire HD, even with Swype.

Push Every­thing

I was com­ing from a Goo­gly world of push e-mail and Google Talk, but push noti­fi­ca­tions for Twit­ter and Face­book are a wel­come addi­tion. I’ve no idea how much data or bat­tery power is saved by not hav­ing to poll the ser­vices for noti­fi­ca­tions at reg­u­lar inter­vals, but the speed at which they arrive is cer­tainly appreciated.

Social Feeds Screenshot

Pock­etabil­ity

I can actu­ally sit down with this thing in my pocket, which is one thing I’m rarely able to do with the Desire HD’s 4.3-inch screen.

Bat­tery Life

Life with my Desire HD is a con­stant quest for the near­est power socket. I had it auto­mat­i­cally enter flight mode overnight, and charged it at my desk all day. Heavy evening use meant I’d charge it overnight as well, just to be on the safe side, and train jour­neys caused me to eschew using the phone so that I had a chance of being able to call some­one when I arrived.

This thing is well into its sec­ond day, its bat­tery well over half full. I may finally be free of phone bat­tery para­noia for the first time since about 2006.

No Like:

Black­Berry Inter­net Ser­vice is Weird

The price of omnipresent push noti­fi­ca­tions is that your phone, and car­rier, must have you set up to use Black­Berry Inter­net Ser­vice. But its roots extend deeper than that, in that some apps — such as Twit­ter and Face­book — are unus­able with­out it. Com­ing from a world where apps just make their own con­nec­tions straight to the appro­pri­ate web ser­vices, it’s a lit­tle strange. And though there are Twit­ter apps that make their own direct con­nec­tion, they’re not as nicely tied into the phone as the offi­cial one; no other inter­face that lets you browse Twit­ter and Face­book together.

App World is no App Store

This hasn’t been a deal-breaker for me as I always intended to install as lit­tle as pos­si­ble on this phone, but my for­ays into it have dis­ap­pointed. While the Apple App Store and Android Mar­ket seem to have dozens of apps (of vary­ing qual­ity) for every pos­si­ble task, App World has the oppo­site prob­lem — if there is an app for that, there’s prob­a­bly only one, and it’s expensive.

The UI, Oh God, The UI

Com­plaints are often lev­elled at Android that its menu sys­tem is unin­tu­itive (which func­tions are in the menu, and which are on the app’s main inter­face?) and that its UI is incon­sis­tent (white-on-black vs black-on-white, orange high­lights, green high­lights…). Well, it’s got noth­ing on Black­Berry OS. Text and back­ground colours dif­fer wildly between apps, non-standard wid­gets abound, and many crit­i­cal func­tions hide behind a menu that’s many screen-heights tall.

Home Screen Screenshot

The Screen

RIM seems to lag far behind the rest of the world in some tech­nolo­gies — for exam­ple the Curve 9300, released in late 2010, was the first of the series to fea­ture a 3G radio. It has a 2-megapixel blur­rycam and a 624MHz proces­sor. But tak­ing the prover­bial bis­cuit is that 320×240 screen that looks almost retro in with its sim­ple icons and pixel­lated text. It’s not a notice­able prob­lem after a while, but when going back to using the Desire HD, the Android phone looks pos­i­tively beautiful.

Inter­face translation

The phone’s UI lan­guage is set to Span­ish; in the two screen­shots above, only the date is non-English. All in all, maybe 30% of strings are trans­lated. I don’t know if other lan­guages are bet­ter, but it’s a pretty poor show com­pared to other mobile oper­at­ing systems.

Teth­er­ing

The 90s called, and they want their AT com­mand scripts back.

In Con­clu­sion…

By the stan­dards of mod­ern iPhones and Android hand­sets, the Black­Berry Curve 3G is… basi­cally awful. It’s not hard to see why RIM is los­ing mar­ket share to its com­peti­tors — their phones just lack any kind of appeal along­side their contemporaries.

But do I regret my pur­chase? Not a bit. For the four sim­ple tasks that make up 99% of my phone usage, it’s not bad. Its key­board is a high­light, enough to make me ques­tion my love of giant all-screen phones.

And for a smart­phone, I’ve found the bat­tery life to be aston­ish­ingly good. Over months or pos­si­bly years, I think it’ll be worth the money just to be free from the lin­ger­ing worry over where and when I will next be able to grab a cou­ple of hours in the com­pany of an AC adapter.

“Quick Energy”

Late last night, my wife thrust into my hands a bot­tle of some­thing called “Quick Energy”, with instruc­tions that I should drink it in the morn­ing, and a minor warn­ing that it might be absolutely dis­gust­ing. Well, as a man who is still try­ing to track down a way of import­ing Four Loko, I guess I have no grounds to decline this.

Quick Energy Bottle

The reverse of the bot­tle informs me that it con­tains about as much caf­feine as “a cup of pre­mium cof­fee”, which as the actual value is 175mg, I am tak­ing to mean “a bucket of fil­ter cof­fee, pre­mium or oth­er­wise”. It also informs me that “phenylke­tonurics” may be a word, so if noth­ing else this vile swill has expanded my vocabulary.

Bottle (Back Left)  Bottle (Back Right)

A “niacin flush” is also appar­ently a thing, which the inter­net con­firms for me. The bot­tle describes it as “a warm feel­ing and skin red­ness”, while some web­sites describe it as “annoy­ing, some­times down­right painful”, but hey, it’s get­ting towards the time of day when I’d hap­pily set­tle for being lobster-red and in pain for the cause of get­ting some caf­feine inside me. On which note it sug­gests I “limit caf­feinated prod­ucts to avoid… occa­sional rapid heart rate”, which seems like it’s defeat­ing the point, really.

Tau­rine is its third most major ingre­di­ent, which is a lit­tle dis­con­cert­ing, and though it con­tains “nat­ural colour” I’m not sure I dare pour this thing into a glass to see what it actu­ally looks like.

Oh, yeah, and it’s eight months out of date.

Expires, er... Never Mind.

But hey, it’s not like any­thing on that list of ingre­di­ents actu­ally goes off.

I can’t quite promise a review “by the num­bers”, so we’ll go for “by the time” instead:

  • T-10 min­utes: The pres­ence of this stuff is def­i­nitely unnerv­ing. I’m sure it’s no worse than drink­ing a cup of strong cof­fee, but some­how the medicine-like qual­i­ties give it a wor­ry­ing edge.
  • T-5 min­utes: Hands are shak­ing now. No, I’m not that ner­vous. I sus­pect low blood-sugar and blood-caffeine lev­els are to blame here. At least one of those is about to be rectified.
  • T-1 minute: Well, here goes… some­thing. Pos­si­bly my brain, pos­si­bly my diges­tive system.
  • T-10 sec­onds: Can’t open the bloody bot­tle. Launch on hold.
  • T0: Well, that’s… orangey.
  • T+2 sec­onds: Well, that’s… foul.
  • T+5 sec­onds: It’s like some­one took an orange, ground Pro Plus into it and scraped it along my tongue until a human rights group showed up quot­ing the Geneva Convention.
  • T+2 min­utes: I prob­a­bly should have downed it. This sip­ping busi­ness is tak­ing way too long.
  • T+7 min­utes: Spac­ing out now. My brain feels like it’s float­ing about two inches above the top of my skull.
  • T+20 min­utes: Spac­ing out has stopped, and I’m back to stan­dard oper­at­ing para­me­ters. I guess “a bucket of cof­fee” is actu­ally pretty rou­tine for me. No niacin flush either — the inter­net sug­gests it should have hap­pened by now if it was going to hap­pen at all.
  • T+1 hour: Just car­ry­ing on as normal.

All things con­sid­ered, “Quick Energy” was kind of dis­ap­point­ing. I was half expect­ing to have my brain hot-wired on an insane cock­tail of caf­feine, tau­rine and vit­a­mins, but in real­ity it just does what it implies on the label: pro­vides a pretty nor­mal caffeine-induced energy boost. I can’t really find fault with that, only with my hyped-up expectations.

Ver­dict: Good for peo­ple that don’t like cof­fee, I guess?

Cheating in the Age of Micropayments

So, the other day I cheated at a videogame for what is prob­a­bly the first time in years. Not for unfair advan­tage over other play­ers, but merely because it was one of those games with no end, and before con­sign­ing it to the dust­bin of his­tory, I wanted to see what the best weapons were like.

It was a pretty sim­ple hack — an in-game replace­ment of the con­tents of a cer­tain mem­ory address, the same thing I had no shame what­so­ever in apply­ing via a Game Genie nearly two decades ago. And, just as hoped, I eked out a few more hours of fun from the game with my new-found power to lay waste to civilisation.

The Kraken weapon

The best weapons in this game can only be pur­chased with the game’s “pre­mium” cur­rency, which I sim­ply awarded myself 9999 of with barely a sec­ond thought. But in this world of in-app pur­chases and micro­pay­ments, the com­pany who makes the game want me to have paid for that amount of in-game cash. Out of inter­est, I cal­cu­lated how much money I would have paid to acquire it through legit­i­mate channels.

£840.

In-App Purchase Screen

Now, although there’s no way I’ve obtained £840 worth of value from my cheat­ing, it raises an odd eth­i­cal dilemma that’s rel­a­tively new to gam­ing. Have I just cheated to gain myself another cou­ple of hours’ enjoy­ment? Or have I just cheated some­one out of the bet­ter part of a thou­sand pounds?

I’d be happy to pay a rea­son­able amount — £10, say — for the amount of enjoy­ment I’ve had from the game. But the “freemium” busi­ness model of many mod­ern, social games makes that sur­pris­ingly dif­fi­cult. Instead, I must get 99% of my fun for free, then pay extor­tion­ate amounts of real money for the last 1%. But, hav­ing cheated, I have no option at all to pay what I think is fair apart from sim­ply buy­ing my £10 worth of the game’s cur­rency, even though it would barely reg­is­ter against the huge value I have unfairly awarded myself.