Graze

A few weeks ago I signed up to Graze, and so far I’ve been really impressed.

The idea behind the company is that they regularly send you a box containing four punnets of fruit, seeds, nuts and other healthy offerings. How regularly is up to you – I receive a box per week, but you can make it more frequently if you want to (and can afford to). At £2.99 per box it’s a little on the pricey side*, but they do have a tremendous choice of over 100 products.

Well, “choice” isn’t the right word, I suppose. You don’t choose your four punnets directly, but rather rate products as “bin” (never send), “try”, “like” and “love”. They rend four random punnets from your “try”, “like” and “love” choices, but you can weigh the selection to favour “love” or “try” if you want to. The fact that I can’t choose the punnets is part of the appeal for me, as it adds a little randomness and variety to my food each week. It’s surprising how exciting it is checking their website each week to see what selection is winging its way to me.

Their website is a work of beauty. It looks great and the user interface is absolutely spot-on – right down to little details like the button which lets you easily push back your box by a week with a single click. If they weren’t on the wrong side of London, I’d seriously be considering applying for a programming job there – it’s refreshing to see a company that really knows how to produce a great web-based UI.

If you don’t mind paying a little over the odds for a semi-random selection from a great range of healthy foods (and if you’re based in the UK), then you should give them a try. Use the link below to get your first box free, and your second one half-price (plus I get a pound off my next box if you do):




* £2.99 per box = 75p per punnet, with each punnet containing between 35g and 45g of produce. By comparison Marks and Spencer offer similar products (though a greatly reduced choice) for £1.00 for a pot weighing 70g. It would be nice if there was a six punnet option for £3.99, bringing the price-per-punnet down to a more reasonable 67p. The box would be longer, but the same width and depth, so would still fit through a letterbox – plus I find that four punnets isn’t quite enough for the week, but eight would be too many.


Foxy fonts of the future

Any web developer who’s ever tried to introduce an old-school graphic designer to the ins and outs of web design will know how easy it is to make their brain melt and trickle out of their ears. One of the killers for a typical designer is the lack of control over fonts. Well, things are getting a lot better. Most browsers now support downloadable fonts in one form or another, and it looks like the next-but-one release of Firefox will get some very tasty new font rendering features in the form of support for ligatures, stylistic alternatives, tabulated numbers and more.

Fonts on a Firefox development build

Fonts on a Firefox development build

If you’ve got an interest in fonts on the web you really do owe it to yourself to take a look at this page to get an idea of where things are heading. Although this is experimental work in Firefox, there’s a good chance that similar features will make their way into Safari, Chrome and Opera, before (hopefully) getting ratified into a proper standard.

It will be a long time yet before designers can assume support for these features in the majority of web browsers that are actually in use, but at least the future looks a little brighter for font fans and designers alike.

World of Goo – pay what you want

Or more specifically pay whatever you think it’s worth – for this week at least. I’ve got the WiiWare version, and have to say that it is a great game – well worth the full asking price. If you don’t fancy spending that much though, and have a Windows PC, a Mac or even a Linux box, you can go to their website and download it for whatever price you think it’s worth, until the 19th October.

Despite already owning the Wii version, I might take this opportunity to buy myself a cheap copy for my Linux box – if only to thank them for actually taking the time to produce a Linux version. If you want to see what the game it like, here’s the video they’ve got on their website:

Do you like Kipling?

The correct answer to this question is, of course, “I don’t know – I’ve never kippled.” But hoary old chestnuts aside, there are two Kiplings of note here in the UK. The first – Rudyard Kipling – was an author and poet, perhaps best known for writing The Jungle Book. His work has featured on this blog once before.

The second – the forenameless “Mr Kipling” – is a fictitious baker of “exceedingly good cakes”, used as a brand name for the biggest selling range of cakes in the UK. If you’re not from this part of the world, you might want to look at this Wikipedia page, and the Mr Kipling website.

A few weeks ago I was trying to explain the concept of Free and Open Source Software (FOSS) to a complete layperson. Often cars are used as an analogy in situations like this – with proprietary software being likened to a car with the bonnet welded shut, and FOSS being likened to a kit car that you can tinker with at will. For this conversation, however, I wanted to get away from the whole idea of software being something technical, and bring it down to a more basic level: cakes.

The analogy goes something like this…

Buying proprietary software from the likes of Microsoft, Apple, Adobe and so on is like buying a pack of Mr Kipling’s cakes. It might be exceedingly good, but you don’t get any say in the recipe. Do you want more nuts? Fewer nuts? A diabetic-friendly version? Unless Mr Kipling’s master bakers decide to produce something to your tastes you’re out of luck. Even if they do produce what you want, it might never see the light of day. And even if it does, you might have to wait for years before it makes it to market as a commercial product.

FOSS, on the other hand, is like buying home-made cakes from a stall at the local Scouts’ jumble sale, or like being given a cake by a neighbour or relative. It won’t come in the glitzy packaging of Mr Kipling’s offerings. It might not taste as good. But there’s a good chance you’ll be getting it directly from the baker – just the person to provide feedback to, if you think they should add more nuts.

Getting your cakes like this is how most people get their FOSS games and applications. Someone else has already done the hard work of getting all the ingredients together, measuring, mixing and baking. You just have to buy (or be given) the finished product.

What really separates commercial and home-made cakes, though, is the prospect that you can do it yourself. If you ask that nice baker at the jumble sale, or your friend or relative, they’ll probably be happy to give you the recipe. Then you can add more nuts. Or fewer. Or make that diabetic-friendly version. You can even bake some to sell at the local Girl Guides’ jumble sale – and you’ll happily pass on the recipe when someone else asks for it.

There’s a good chance that in your kitchen – or your mum’s kitchen – there’s a book or folder stuffed with recipes that you’ve acquired over the years. Some came from friends. Some from relatives. Some off the internet. Some clipped out of magazines. You can tweak and modify them to suit your own tastes. You can pass them on to other people (ignoring, for the sake of this analogy, the legalities of copyright on the magazine clippings). You can even sell the things you cook, if you want to. And it’s only polite that if you pass your cakes onto someone else, you should also give them the recipe if they ask, so that they can have the same opportunity to tweak it as you’ve had.

Mr Kipling doesn’t give you his recipes at all.

That’s the difference between FOSS and proprietary software: it’s the same as the difference between Mr Kipling, and your mother’s cake recipe. Because although the phrase “source code” might be gobbledegook to a non-programmer, the word “recipe” is perfectly understandable.

I’ve been thinking about writing this entry for some time now. Today I was inspired to do so by a post I saw on Planet Ubuntu: Melissa Draper has posted her recipe for Open Source Brownies. Take it, tweak it, bake it, eat it – it’s the FOSS way.

The Legend Of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass

Yesterday’s post was just a precursor to this one, to explain why I’m so behind the times in writing about The Legend Of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass. The reason goes something like this…

  • Phantom Hourglass was released in October 2007, and my girlfriend bought me a copy for Christmas that year
  • I decided to play The Wind Waker first, in order to get the continuity right.
  • After playing The Wind Waker (and Twilight Princess before it), I felt all Zelda’d out, so I took a break to play Super Mario Galaxy.
  • Then I bought Okami, which I finished in July.
  • Finally, about a month ago, I got round to playing Phantom Hourglass (largely in preparation for Spirit Tracks later in the year)

So although the game has been sitting on my “to play” pile for 18 months, that’s why I’ve only just finished it.

The game is great – nicely pitched in difficulty, with a few ingenious puzzles that make great use of the touchscreen. Drawing boomerang paths or steamboat routes was very intuitive and there was some nice (if limited) use of the microphone. I would have preferred the shoulder buttons to act as toggles rather than requiring a press-and-hold to activate the selected tool: too many times in the heat of battle I found myself releasing the shoulder button prematurely and losing the boomerang path I’d drawn.

The temple designs were inspired. In particular the little shortcuts which let you progress through the main temple faster with each new weapon gave you hope that this time you might have enough sand in your hourglass to make it through on the first attempt.

With the immediacy and convenience of a portable game, this has perhaps been the best Zelda I’ve played to date. I just wish it had been longer – but I suppose there is a trade-off to be made when you’re running from a cartridge.

My girlfriend played it as the same time as me, and also thoroughly enjoyed it. She found it a little more taxing than I did, but did manage to complete it. Usually she wouldn’t fancy a role-playing game like this, but the cute graphics and simple control mechanism made her an instant convert. We’re now both eagerly awaiting the release of Spirit Tracks.

Showing a little restraint

Like many games players, I’ve got a pile of half-finished games. Sometimes I’ve just got bored with them, but more often I’ve just been tempted by the latest new game, and ended up getting distracted. Often I stop playing while fully intending to resume at some point in future. It’s rare that I ever do pick them up again, though, so they just get added to that ever-growing pile of half-finished games, stretching back across several generations of consoles and computers.

The first game that I consciously remember thinking, “I’ll just have a few goes of the new game, then I’ll finish this one off” was Xenon 2 on my Atari ST – and I’ve been suffering from this affliction ever since.

A couple of years ago I decided that enough was enough, and I would stop this bad habit once and for all. Since then I’ve made sure to complete one game, before starting another. “Complete” could mean any number of things, largely depending on how much I’m enjoying the game, and what is sitting in the “to be played” pile, tempting me. Generally it means finishing the main story mode, but not worrying about every single little collectable item – though I enjoyed Super Mario Galaxy enough to go for all 120 stars, even though it meant dealing with Luigi’s Bastard Purple Bloomin’ Coins. I also plan to go back through SMG again as Luigi in preparation for the release of SMG2 next year.

As well as setting my own definition of “complete”, I also have a couple of other loosly-applied caveats to my “finish one game before starting another” rule. Games without a clear plot to them don’t fall under this rule – so I can play a few games of Pac-Man just for fun, without having to get all the way to level 256. I also apply this rule separately for consoles and handheld systems – so I can be playing one epic game on the Wii, and another on the DS. This works because time spend playing handheld games tends not to overlap with time spent playing console games too much – so progress on one doesn’t suffer at the expense of progress on the other. Finally, I tend not to play games from similar genres at the same time – so The Legend Of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass on the DS had to wait until I’d finished Okami on the Wii.

Taking this approach has its pros and cons. On the plus side, I do feel more of a sense of achievement due to finishing a game, rather than just moving on to the next release that takes my fancy. It also works out cheaper as I’m spending more time with each game, so have less time left to indulge in impulse buys. It does mean, however, that I just don’t have the time to play all the games I would like to, so I’m sure I’m missing out on a few classics. Even those that I’m certain I want to play tend to get bought then added to the list of games to play after the current one.

That last point, in particular, makes it a real lesson in self-restraint. All the while as I make my way through an epic masterpiece, I can hear those little cartridges and silver discs begging to be let out of the drawer…

Go on, just take a little break. Hyrule will still be there when you get back. You know you want to play us. We’re so shiny and new. Go on, just open the drawer and break the seal – think of the fun to be had.

Must…ignore…the…voices.

Chumby: An art gallery on my desktop

I love wandering round art galleries – but I don’t really like the way most of them are organised. Most galleries take the “museum” approach of labelling and categorising. All the Old Masters are over in that wing, separated into rooms by country and year. The modern pieces are over here, cubist that way, surrealist this way.

Categorising art like that is great if what you want is to go and look at the Dutch Old Masters without the distraction of those nasty modern pieces getting in the way. Or if you want to look at a pile of bricks and an unmade bed, without those staid old portraits and bowls of fruit trying to drag you off into the world of the mundane.

But I don’t really like my art categorised. I like it spontaneous. I like it unexpected. I like to be surprised. I like to stumble across a melting clock right next to a stalking tiger, or an epic sea battle alongside Oberon, Titania and the bloke with the nut. Give me different artists’ views of the same scene, or interpretations of the same event, even though they’re separated by time or culture. Give me soft blurred impressionism right alongside ultra-realism, and pointillism alongside cubism.

I suppose what I want from art is no different to what I want from music. An art gallery’s works can be cut and dissected in a myriad of ways, just how I see collections as freeing us from the historical constraints of the music album. I love the serendipitous pairings of tracks that can come from playing your music in random mode; I guess I want a big “shuffle” button at the entrance to a gallery.

This desire to be surprised by randomness is perhaps one of the reasons why I like my Chumby so much. In amongst the clocks and calendars I’ve added plenty of widgets which either display pictures from the internet, or which are small works of algorithmic art in their own right. When one of these widgets randomly appears on the screen, it can be an amusing, intriguing or fascinating distraction for a few seconds. Some of the images can be so random that they serve as a great reminder of the sheer amount of variety present in the human race.

I’ve pulled together a few of my favourite widgets into one virtual Chumby below. I don’t view them all in succession like this – on my real Chumby they’re interspersed with a large number of other channels – but it does give you an idea of the kind of random things that appear on my screen throughout the day:

The particular selection of widgets there pull data from these websites:

I have two particular favourites: The first is “Doodles – Diary of a Chumby” which actually makes some sense of the inane witterings of that part of the Twitter crowd who think we really want to hear their every internal thought tweeted. The second is the “COLOURlovers Pallettes” widget – it’s amazing how evocative and interesting just a collection of four or five colour bars can be.

Apple: No longer the masters of packaging

Anyone who has purchased an Apple product in the past few years – particularly a computer, iPod or iPhone – might have noticed that they have a certain knack for packaging. The boxes are sleek and sparsely labelled. The sub-boxes which contain the various component parts all fit together smoothly. The actual parts are individually wrapped in protective plastic film.

Then the devices themselves are pared down to their simplest form. A single button graces the front of an iPhone. A Mac Mini doesn’t even get that – just a slot and a light, with the power button hidden away at the back: convenience traded in for elegance. The iPod has moved from four buttons and a wheel down to just the wheel, the buttons being subsumed beneath it.

Not for Apple the clunky front-facing power, reset and eject buttons of a typical PC. Not for Apple the vulgarity of a slide-out phone keyboard, or a separate second mouse button. And not for Apple the hideous lines at the back of a device that allow the proles to actually replace the battery in their phone or MP3 player.

Apple strives for elegance and simplicity. It’s a modernist’s dream made real. Sure, it might mean a little inconvenience in some areas, but what is beauty without suffering?

But I’m getting carried away. This post is about the packaging, not the packaged. For a long time I’ve held Apple to be the kings of packaging. Their bare matt-laminated boxes scream quality, whilst the sharp edges and clean lines evoke a feeling of precision. Just what you want for the packaging of a high-tech product.

I’ve observed over the years that not everybody notices the packaging. For some it’s just an obstacle between them and their new toy. Others perhaps realise it’s different on a subconscious level, but don’t actively acknowledge it. For anyone who doesn’t really understand why not putting a load of text on your box is sometimes the best option, I offer this oldie-but-goodie: What if Microsoft designed the iPod…

But now I’ve found a new master of packaging: Chumby Industries. In my previous post I mentioned that I’d purchased a secondhand Chumby, in its original packaging. The Chumby is soft and squashable, using flexible plastic fittings and fine Italian leather to produce a highly tactile device. It eschews Apple’s hard, clean lines in favour of flexible, lumpy edges. Whilst Apple’s devices feel like the pinnacle of machine construction, the Chumby feels like a barnacle of human construction – and I mean that in a good way.

So the Chumby itself is a squashable, mashable, squeezable, bashable lump of tech in cow’s clothing. But those people at Chumby Industries didn’t stop there. Not only does their product feel distinctly humane and friendly in its construction, but that humanity extends to its packaging.

Apple’s collection of quadrilateral boxes gets replaced in the Chumby world with a nested set of cloth bags. Apple’s minimal documentation gets bested by an even simpler pamphlet with rounded corners printed on obviously recycled stock. The Apple logo sticker included with some products gets well and truly trumped by the inclusion of three soft foam characters on loops of string, to be attached to the rivet on the right of the Chumby so that the new owner can personalise their device.

Have a look at this unboxing (or rather, unbagging) video, and just consider how completely different this is to any other piece of high-tech equipment you might have bought in the past:

Everything about the Chumby package is designed to encourage you to imbue your Chumby with a personality – to treat it more like a cuddly toy than a piece of technology. It’s an approach that works well for a device like this – and probably wouldn’t work for many others. But it is nice to see someone doing something different in the tech world.

To finish, here’s my summary of packaging in the tech world:

  • Most companies: Do not buy this unless you understand what all these tech specs actually mean. Are you certain you’ve got an AMD Pentium 3.5 Gigglyflops processor?
  • Apple: Our tech is so simple that you don’t need to know all the techie details.
  • Chumby Industries: Come here, gizza hug :-)

Chumby

A couple of weeks ago I bought a Chumby – I bought it secondhand, but it had all the original packaging.

A Chumby is essentially a small internet-connected touchscreen and speakers. Yes, there’s more to it than that, but that’s what really matters. It displays little applications (“channels” in Chumby terms) and cycles through them. Some you can interact with via the touchscreen or by physically moving the Chumby. Others are just non-interactive and used to display information – weather, news headlines, or just the current time. Below is a “Virtual Chumby” which gives you an idea of what it looks like:

The electronics are housed in a soft plastic and leather exterior which is stuffed with padding to create a rounded, tactile, squishable device. It’s the antithesis of most modern electronic devices: the designers have gone out of their way not to create yet another hard, unfriendly lump of gadgetry, but instead to make an electronic device that is cute and cuddly – well, as cute and cuddly as anything with a flat, rectangular screen can be.

In use I’ve found the Chumby to be a real delight. I’ve got it on my desk at work, with an extensive collection of channels installed. It lets me keep track of recent headlines, view a variety of random images, and keep an eye on the time, all in the background without requiring a significant “context switch” (as would be needed if I wanted to track these things using a web browser on my PC).

A lot of people don’t “get it”. Comments range from “so it’s a fancy clock then” to “what’s the point?”. Unfortunately those people seem to be in the majority – which might explain the failure of the Audrey, a similar device launched a few years ago by 3Com. Chumby is likely to succeed where Audrey failed at least in part because the smaller size of Chumby Industries compared with 3Com means that they can get a way with less profit and a smaller market for the device.

If you’re the sort that does appreciate the niche that Chumby fills, however, I can thoroughly recommend it. I’m seriously considering whether I can justify buying a second one, and I know at least two other people who are also seriously considering buying one. If there was a UK distributor then the decision would be easy, but the vagaries of importing something into the UK make it a bit more of a financial gamble, which is enough to put people off.

Okami

I finished playing Okami on my Wii last night. Beautiful graphics, great gameplay (even if the Wii controller made it a little hard to consistently draw the brush strokes), and thoroughly recommended if you like that sort of game. I’ve seen it described as “The best Zelda game than Nintendo never made”, and I think that description sums it up prefectly.

It’s a shame that the end credits were cut from the Wii version, but it’s even more of a shame that there’s unlikely to ever be a sequel. I’ll miss you, furball.