You’re framing this article as harmless nostalgia, but it’s steeped in a particular kind of ideological elitism.

The author doesn’t just miss old tech—he explicitly claims “computers were more fun when they weren’t for everyone,” then spends the rest of the piece romanticizing that exclusivity. He presents complexity as a virtue because it filtered people out. That’s not just wistful reflection—it’s gatekeeping framed as culture.

His core argument is clear: computing was better when it belonged only to those with the time, skill, or personality to endure its difficulties. That’s not celebrating subculture—it’s lamenting the loss of exclusivity.

Calling his stance “elitist” doesn’t excuse it—it just acknowledges it without engaging with what that actually means. Self-awareness isn’t the same as critical reflection, and it doesn’t soften the underlying message: resentment toward accessibility, masked as retro affection.

The piece ultimately reads less like love for a bygone era and more like discomfort with the fact that computing has become inclusive.

> Old hardware was simpler. This meant that a single person could learn all, or at least most, of its features by heart.

Sure - and so is plenty of tech today, if you choose it to be. Simplicity is still available, just not mandatory. No one’s forcing you to turn your home into a smart dystopia or drive a car that needs firmware updates.

> Old hardware was limited. Slow processors, low resolutions and cheap sound chips impose restrictions that are fun to overcome with creative problem solving.

That kind of constraint is still available - self-imposed, if necessary. Creativity through limitation isn’t gone; it’s just no longer universal. If you miss it, simulate it. Limitations don’t require scarcity.

> Old computers were offline. No attention economy, no SaaS subscription models. You could learn a piece of software and keep using it for as long as a decade without experiencing any major overhauls.

Great! You can still do that. Turn off Wi-Fi, fire up your legacy tools, and ignore the SaaS world. Nobody is stopping you.

> The Internet was mostly text-based. Things were comparably snappy and focused on human-to-human communication rather than passive content consumption and bloated advertising.

You can still browse text-only sites with a terminal browser. You can still avoid algorithmic sludge and have meaningful conversations-forums, IRC clones, newsletters, you name it.

> Old gits like yours truly where younger back then. We were, believe it or not, at the forefront of technology, instead of struggling to keep up.

Exactly. Some of what you’re feeling is just aging-nostalgia reframed as cultural decay. It’s human, but it’s not a critique of the present.

> It also meant that if someone had a home computer, chances were that they liked the same stuff as you

Communities still exist for people who care deeply - Linux user groups, retro computing forums, hacker conferences. You just have to look past the mainstream.

> Left thusly alone, we were free to do whatever the heck we wanted with our mysterious machines.

You still are. Boot up your Amiga, fire up a dev board, disconnect from the cloud. The tools are still there. What’s missing is the exclusivity.

My final thoughts about the article:

This isn’t just longing for a bygone era—it’s discomfort with the present one, especially its inclusivity. That’s what makes the piece not just nostalgic, but ideologically revealing. I honestly feel a bit sorry for the author, who (at least to me) comes across as a disgruntled old guy, romanticizing a time when being seen as a weirdo also meant being seen as a wizard.

My final thought about your comment:

You say this is a victimhood take, but the real victimhood is in the article - mourning the loss of exclusivity like something was stolen, when really, it was just shared.