So we’re working on this superb piece of hardware to port Twin Blades onto which happens to be a very expensive prototype sent to a handful (probably a couple handfuls) developers in the world and we signed such a restrictive NDA to get it that only by having read this I must ask you to grab the nearest scissors to cut your tongue, burn it and send the ashes to their legal department.
We had this prototype, and we couldn’t do anything with it.
The device required a firmware upgrade, and fortunately there was a detailed tutorial as to how it should be done. Jeff carefully read the instructions (coders aren’t like us humans: they read manuals before encountering problems) and did the deed, only to see the bloody thing reboot halfway through because it didn’t have enough batteries.
It bricked, bricado, kaput. Spent half an hour pushing all the buttons only to find himself in front of the same blue screen of death.
While we didn’t miss the opportunity to mock the time of his youth he wasted attending medical college instead of flashing PSP firmwares like everyone else, somehow a couple hours later in a leap of faith of
biblical epic proportions Jeff managed to ressuscitate the object.
So here he is all happy and all, telling about his miracle on the uber-secret developer’s forum and naturally someone else who also bricked his prototype asked how he did it, and those are the steps from his recollection:
‘I yelled, slammed the door and went to the kitchen to smoke three cigarettes. When I came back, it turned on just fine.‘
If you ask me the man deliberately omits to mention the beheaded chicken we later found in the kitchen sink. The difference between a good coder and a great one? Tech-voodoo.