The Nintendo way of adapting technology is not to look for the state of the art but to utilize mature technology that can be mass-produced cheaply.
This is the reason a Nintendo console never has the fastest chips or the beefiest specs of its generation; instead, its remixes components in an interesting and generative way. Think of the Gameboy’s monochrome screen, the Wii’s motion controller, the Switch’s smartphone form.
[Gunpei Yokoi] is talking about reliability and predictability, in performance and supply alike. He wants the components to be boring, so their application can be daring.
This visualization takes the current New York Times Best Sellers list for combined print and e-book fiction and scales each title according to the demand for its e-book edition at a collection of U.S. public libraries, selected for their size and geographic diversity.
This is a kind of manifesto about the difference between liking something on the internet and loving something on the internet.
It’s also an experiment in a new format: a “tap essay,” presenting its argument tap by tap, making its case with typography, color, and a few surprises.
When we use non-spatial social apps, we often understand that another's cognitive presence is there, but we can't feel the more human presence we're wired to need. When we're not social distancing, we fulfill this need elsewhere, outside of software. We meet for coffee. We go on a walk. We play a game, or show a friend something funny on our phone and watch them laugh. We have infinite options at our disposal for relating to others. Though the lack of these same options inside the software we use is sometimes inconvenient, we can usually get over it.
But things are different right now. We're constrained to rely almost exclusively on software for social interaction. What are usually minor inconveniences in our existing applications are now the main factor preventing us from fulfilling our social needs.