Mercedes-Benz has built empires on speed and elegance, but in 2009 they tried something completely different: the F-Cell Roadster Concept. Over 150 trainees at the Sindelfingen plant worked together to develop this one-of-a-kind vehicle, which highlighted the car’s rough origins. It was a bridge between ages; it hit the German roads not to establish records, but to follow in the footsteps of Bertha Benz, the lady who demonstrated that cars could go long distances.
ASUS introduced a device 15 years ago that blurred the line between an input tool and a standalone machine. The Eee Keyboard PC housed a full Windows computer within the body of what appeared to be a standard keyboard. After a long wait, it was released in mid-2010, just as netbooks were reigning supreme in portable computing and businesses were pursuing ever-smaller footprints. For $600 ($893 today), you got a silver wedge weighing more than 2 pounds, ready to connect to a TV or monitor for web browsing, movie playback, or light work. ASUS referred to it as a living room companion, something to use for quick chores without having to pull out a whole laptop.
On July 30, 1987, Bandai launched Karaoke Studio in Japan, making it the first of its kind and a genuine pioneer in the area of karaoke games. TOSE manufactured and published this Nintendo Famicom bundle, which included much more than just a cartridge. It came with an additional piece of hardware, a large device that slips directly into your Famicom’s cartridge bay, as well as a special grey microphone that plugs right in. Guinness World Records has even labeled it the first karaoke video game, and it’s easy to understand why, with its super-accurate voice detection system and very excellent song collection.
Photo credit: GM
Fifty-six years ago, General Motors dared to do something truly different. They parked a tangerine bubble at a trade-show turntable and asked people to take a good hard look. At Transpo ’72, visitors walked right up to the 512 Electric Experimental, noses just inches from its sleek fiberglass skin, wondering whether this thing was a car, a cockpit, or just some kind of wacky dream on wheels. Standing at a mere 86 inches long, the little GM looked for all the world like a Smart Fort Worth that had been sat upon – but as you looked closer, you could see that every curve was deliberate, every inch carefully thought out.
Slide your hand into a 1977 dinner jacket, and you might find a silver cigarette case, a small lighter, or—tucked beside the silk lining—a rectangle barely larger than a deck of cards. When you open the snap, the leather wallet slides open to reveal a radio. Not a toy or a gimmick, but a full-fledged AM/FM receiver from Panasonic named Mister Thin (RF-015).
Throaty Mumbo opens a box from the 1990s sealed with packaging tape and pulls out a copy of Netscape Navigator 4.5 that has been shrink wrapped for longer than he has been alive. The plastic wrapping “cracks” like thin ice on a winter pond. Inside, there’s a gleaming CD-ROM, a stack of floppy disks that appear to have been there for decades, and a gigantic 300-page manual that’s thicker than a phone book.
Businesses in the early 1980s were all about paperwork and figures. Spreadsheets were simply rows of figures, documents were heaped up page after page, and IBM PCs were the workhorses that handled all this data, with an option of two monitors. IBM chose Color Graphics Adapter, which provided a splash of color but was only 640 by 200 pixels, making text appear blocky and difficult to read. Then there was the Monochrome Display Adapter, which produced a 720 by 350 pixel screen in a clear green or amber. Hercules Computer Technology identified the gap and stepped in with a card that married both strengths without having to make any sacrifices
In the early 1950s, America was on the cusp of a new era. World War II was fading into memory and the country was full of hope thanks to science and industry. Amidst all this progress General Motors unleashed the 1953 GM Futurliner, the embodiment of the era’s unlimited optimism. This was a 33-foot-long, 30,000 pound rolling billboard for the future, a machine built to wow small town America with tomorrow.
October 18th 1985 was a pretty ordinary autumn day in New York City but the Nintendo Entertainment System (NES) was about to start something big – 200 unassuming grey boxes placed alongside cartridges of plumbing adventures on shelves. Four decades later, that simple launch remains the foundation of what we consider entertainment today.
In January 1977, a peculiar box appeared on the shelves of American electronics retailers, marking a company’s attempt to carve out a share of the expanding video game business. RCA, the radio and television behemoth, introduced the Studio II, a home video gaming device that transforms your TV into a “entertainment center for family pleasure.” But within a year, it had vanished, replaced by flashier competitors and relegated to clearance bins.