i just got my hand on this game on disk.
New profile posts
I was looking at an old page from Privat Computer PC, 20th year, issue 7, June 30th 2004, and it reminded me of something I think a lot of people forget when they talk about Linux today.
Many people say Linux is difficult because you sometimes have to install drivers, understand your hardware, use the terminal, fix permissions, read error messages, or search for the right solution. But for those of us who grew up with computers through the MS-DOS, Windows 3.x, Windows 95, Windows 98, Windows 2000, and Windows XP era, that kind of struggle was not unusual at all. That was just normal PC life.
Back then, Windows was not this polished thing where everything just worked. You could install Windows and still have no sound, no proper graphics driver, no network, no modem, no printer, and sometimes not even the correct chipset drivers. Device Manager could be full of yellow question marks, and you had to figure out what the machine actually had inside it before you could even begin to fix it.
One of the most ridiculous problems was when you needed to go online to download a driver, but the driver you needed was for the modem or network card. So Windows was basically telling you to use the internet to get the driver that would allow you to use the internet. I have been there many times. You had to use another computer, find the driver, save it to a floppy disk, burn it to a CD, put it on a USB stick, or later download it on a phone and move it over with a USB cable. And even then you just hoped Windows could read the device you copied it from.
That was normal. That was not some strange advanced-user thing. If you had a PC in that era, you learned that computers were machines you had to understand a little. You learned what a graphics card was, what a sound card was, what a modem was, what DirectX was, what drivers were, and why the exact model number mattered. You learned by fighting with the machine until it finally worked.
This is why I think the way some people talk about Linux is a little unfair. Linux today is not perfect, and yes, it can still be difficult depending on your hardware and what you want to do. But a lot of what people call “too hard” in Linux is very similar to what Windows users had to deal with for years. The difference is that many modern users only know Windows after it became much more automatic.
If someone started using computers in the Windows 7, Windows 10, or Windows 11 era, I can understand why Linux feels strange. They are used to the system hiding most of the ugly parts. They are used to drivers being pulled from Windows Update, software being installed with one click, and hardware usually being detected automatically. But for people who lived through the older PC years, Linux does not feel like some alien world. In many ways it feels like the old PC world never fully disappeared.
You still sometimes have to know what hardware you have. You still sometimes have to read documentation. You still sometimes have to search forums. You still sometimes have to fix something manually. That can be annoying, but it also means you are closer to the machine. You are not just clicking through a locked-down system and hoping the company behind it allows you to do what you want.
The funny thing is that Windows used to teach people computers because it was messy. Today Windows hides the mess, while Linux still lets you see it. That is probably why Linux feels harder to some people. Not always because it is impossible, but because it expects the user to be involved in a way many people are no longer used to.
For me, the old Windows era from MS-DOS to XP was a training ground. It taught patience, troubleshooting, drivers, file systems, boot disks, safe mode, command lines, and the pain of trying to get online when the modem driver was missing. So when people say Linux is difficult, I often think that yes, it can be, but old Windows was difficult too. People have just forgotten because they remember the nostalgia more than the problems.
Linux today is not really the strange one. In some ways, Linux is just closer to what personal computing used to be: open, messy, powerful, sometimes frustrating, but also far more honest about what the computer is doing.
And maybe that is why I respect it. Not because it is always easy, but because I remember when Windows was not easy either.
Many people say Linux is difficult because you sometimes have to install drivers, understand your hardware, use the terminal, fix permissions, read error messages, or search for the right solution. But for those of us who grew up with computers through the MS-DOS, Windows 3.x, Windows 95, Windows 98, Windows 2000, and Windows XP era, that kind of struggle was not unusual at all. That was just normal PC life.
Back then, Windows was not this polished thing where everything just worked. You could install Windows and still have no sound, no proper graphics driver, no network, no modem, no printer, and sometimes not even the correct chipset drivers. Device Manager could be full of yellow question marks, and you had to figure out what the machine actually had inside it before you could even begin to fix it.
One of the most ridiculous problems was when you needed to go online to download a driver, but the driver you needed was for the modem or network card. So Windows was basically telling you to use the internet to get the driver that would allow you to use the internet. I have been there many times. You had to use another computer, find the driver, save it to a floppy disk, burn it to a CD, put it on a USB stick, or later download it on a phone and move it over with a USB cable. And even then you just hoped Windows could read the device you copied it from.
That was normal. That was not some strange advanced-user thing. If you had a PC in that era, you learned that computers were machines you had to understand a little. You learned what a graphics card was, what a sound card was, what a modem was, what DirectX was, what drivers were, and why the exact model number mattered. You learned by fighting with the machine until it finally worked.
This is why I think the way some people talk about Linux is a little unfair. Linux today is not perfect, and yes, it can still be difficult depending on your hardware and what you want to do. But a lot of what people call “too hard” in Linux is very similar to what Windows users had to deal with for years. The difference is that many modern users only know Windows after it became much more automatic.
If someone started using computers in the Windows 7, Windows 10, or Windows 11 era, I can understand why Linux feels strange. They are used to the system hiding most of the ugly parts. They are used to drivers being pulled from Windows Update, software being installed with one click, and hardware usually being detected automatically. But for people who lived through the older PC years, Linux does not feel like some alien world. In many ways it feels like the old PC world never fully disappeared.
You still sometimes have to know what hardware you have. You still sometimes have to read documentation. You still sometimes have to search forums. You still sometimes have to fix something manually. That can be annoying, but it also means you are closer to the machine. You are not just clicking through a locked-down system and hoping the company behind it allows you to do what you want.
The funny thing is that Windows used to teach people computers because it was messy. Today Windows hides the mess, while Linux still lets you see it. That is probably why Linux feels harder to some people. Not always because it is impossible, but because it expects the user to be involved in a way many people are no longer used to.
For me, the old Windows era from MS-DOS to XP was a training ground. It taught patience, troubleshooting, drivers, file systems, boot disks, safe mode, command lines, and the pain of trying to get online when the modem driver was missing. So when people say Linux is difficult, I often think that yes, it can be, but old Windows was difficult too. People have just forgotten because they remember the nostalgia more than the problems.
Linux today is not really the strange one. In some ways, Linux is just closer to what personal computing used to be: open, messy, powerful, sometimes frustrating, but also far more honest about what the computer is doing.
And maybe that is why I respect it. Not because it is always easy, but because I remember when Windows was not easy either.
I was looking through an old Danish CD-ROM magazine page from CD-ROM 3rd year, issue 11, covering the period from October 15 to November 11, 1998, and it hit me how different PC gaming and software culture used to be.
This page is not just nostalgia. It is almost like a small time capsule from late 90s PC gaming.
On the page you can see games like Railroad Tycoon 2, Caesar III, Get Medieval, Carmageddon 2, Superbike World Championship, and Speed Busters. These were the kinds of games that made PC gaming feel massive and varied. Strategy, racing, arcade action, medieval fantasy, simulations — all living side by side on one magazine CD.
What really stands out to me is how much practical value these CD-ROMs had. This was not just a demo disc. It had tools, patches, fixes, walkthroughs, trainers, savegames, video clips, and extra files.
Under the software section, there are things like:
Netscape Communicator 4.05
Netscape Navigator 4.05
for Windows 95 and Windows 3.x
That alone says a lot about the era. Netscape was still important. The browser war was alive. The internet still felt new, strange, exciting, and not yet fully controlled by a handful of giant platforms.
The page also lists useful programs like DirectX 6.0 for Windows 95 and 98, GameSpy 1.52, ICQ, WinZip, Panda Antivirus, Apple QuickTime, and Microsoft Internet Explorer 4.0.
That is such a late 90s software snapshot. You needed DirectX because games often required the newest version. You needed WinZip because files were everywhere in archives. You had ICQ for chatting. GameSpy was part of online multiplayer before everything became built directly into Steam, Discord, launchers, and modern matchmaking systems.
Then there is the patch section, and this is where the old PC gaming feeling really comes back.
The CD includes patches for games like:
Blade Runner
Descent 3dfx
Extreme Assault
Final Fantasy VII video fix
Panzer Commander v1.2
Quake II v3.19
Rainbow Six v1.02a
Sanitarium Level 2 Fix
Seven Kingdoms: Ancient Adversaries
Tonic Trouble savegame patch
Unreal editor runtime files
This is the kind of thing that reminds me how PC gaming worked back then. You did not always just click “update” and let a launcher do everything. Sometimes you had to get the patch from a magazine CD, a website, an FTP server, or a friend. A patch felt like an event. It could fix a broken level, improve compatibility, add 3dfx support, or simply make the game playable on your machine.
There is also a “Secrets” section with walkthroughs, trainers, savegames, and cheats for games like Dune 2000, House of the Dead, Jazz Jackrabbit 2, MechCommander, Rage of Mages, X-Files, Need for Speed 3, Wargames, and others.
Today, most of that would be scattered across websites, wikis, YouTube guides, mod pages, and old forum posts. Back then, it was all bundled together on a physical disc. You bought the magazine, took the CD-ROM home, put it into the drive, and suddenly you had a whole little world of gaming material to explore.
The screenshots also say a lot.
Railroad Tycoon 2 represents that older style of deep PC strategy and management gaming.
Caesar III is classic city-building from an era where PC strategy games had a very distinct identity.
Get Medieval shows that late 90s fantasy/action style.
Carmageddon 2 is pure chaotic old-school PC attitude, from a time when games were allowed to be rough, violent, weird, and controversial.
Superbike World Championship and Speed Busters show how racing games were also part of that PC CD-ROM culture.
The page even has a video section mentioning ECTS footage. That was another part of the old gaming world: getting small video clips from trade shows and previews on CD-ROMs because streaming video online was not realistic for most people yet. A short video on a disc could feel special.
Looking at this now, it is hard not to compare it to modern gaming.
Today everything is faster and more convenient, but also more disposable. Updates happen automatically. Games are tied to accounts. Launchers control access. Physical manuals are mostly gone. Demo discs are gone. Magazine CDs are gone. Even patches do not feel like something you collect or archive anymore.
Back then, PC gaming felt more hands-on. You had to understand your system. You had to install drivers, DirectX, patches, sometimes even mess with compatibility. It could be annoying, but it also made you feel closer to the machine. You were not just consuming a product. You were maintaining your own little gaming ecosystem.
This page is from 1998, but it shows a whole culture:
physical media,
offline access,
patches you could keep,
tools you could install,
games you discovered by browsing a disc,
and a feeling that PC gaming was something you explored instead of something that was simply delivered to you by a launcher.
For me, this is why old CD-ROM magazines still matter. They are not just old paper and plastic. They are archives of how gaming and computing used to feel.
A single page like this can bring back an entire era.
The late 90s PC world was messy, unstable, experimental, and sometimes frustrating — but it had character. And when I look at something like this, I miss that character.
This page is not just nostalgia. It is almost like a small time capsule from late 90s PC gaming.
On the page you can see games like Railroad Tycoon 2, Caesar III, Get Medieval, Carmageddon 2, Superbike World Championship, and Speed Busters. These were the kinds of games that made PC gaming feel massive and varied. Strategy, racing, arcade action, medieval fantasy, simulations — all living side by side on one magazine CD.
What really stands out to me is how much practical value these CD-ROMs had. This was not just a demo disc. It had tools, patches, fixes, walkthroughs, trainers, savegames, video clips, and extra files.
Under the software section, there are things like:
Netscape Communicator 4.05
Netscape Navigator 4.05
for Windows 95 and Windows 3.x
That alone says a lot about the era. Netscape was still important. The browser war was alive. The internet still felt new, strange, exciting, and not yet fully controlled by a handful of giant platforms.
The page also lists useful programs like DirectX 6.0 for Windows 95 and 98, GameSpy 1.52, ICQ, WinZip, Panda Antivirus, Apple QuickTime, and Microsoft Internet Explorer 4.0.
That is such a late 90s software snapshot. You needed DirectX because games often required the newest version. You needed WinZip because files were everywhere in archives. You had ICQ for chatting. GameSpy was part of online multiplayer before everything became built directly into Steam, Discord, launchers, and modern matchmaking systems.
Then there is the patch section, and this is where the old PC gaming feeling really comes back.
The CD includes patches for games like:
Blade Runner
Descent 3dfx
Extreme Assault
Final Fantasy VII video fix
Panzer Commander v1.2
Quake II v3.19
Rainbow Six v1.02a
Sanitarium Level 2 Fix
Seven Kingdoms: Ancient Adversaries
Tonic Trouble savegame patch
Unreal editor runtime files
This is the kind of thing that reminds me how PC gaming worked back then. You did not always just click “update” and let a launcher do everything. Sometimes you had to get the patch from a magazine CD, a website, an FTP server, or a friend. A patch felt like an event. It could fix a broken level, improve compatibility, add 3dfx support, or simply make the game playable on your machine.
There is also a “Secrets” section with walkthroughs, trainers, savegames, and cheats for games like Dune 2000, House of the Dead, Jazz Jackrabbit 2, MechCommander, Rage of Mages, X-Files, Need for Speed 3, Wargames, and others.
Today, most of that would be scattered across websites, wikis, YouTube guides, mod pages, and old forum posts. Back then, it was all bundled together on a physical disc. You bought the magazine, took the CD-ROM home, put it into the drive, and suddenly you had a whole little world of gaming material to explore.
The screenshots also say a lot.
Railroad Tycoon 2 represents that older style of deep PC strategy and management gaming.
Caesar III is classic city-building from an era where PC strategy games had a very distinct identity.
Get Medieval shows that late 90s fantasy/action style.
Carmageddon 2 is pure chaotic old-school PC attitude, from a time when games were allowed to be rough, violent, weird, and controversial.
Superbike World Championship and Speed Busters show how racing games were also part of that PC CD-ROM culture.
The page even has a video section mentioning ECTS footage. That was another part of the old gaming world: getting small video clips from trade shows and previews on CD-ROMs because streaming video online was not realistic for most people yet. A short video on a disc could feel special.
Looking at this now, it is hard not to compare it to modern gaming.
Today everything is faster and more convenient, but also more disposable. Updates happen automatically. Games are tied to accounts. Launchers control access. Physical manuals are mostly gone. Demo discs are gone. Magazine CDs are gone. Even patches do not feel like something you collect or archive anymore.
Back then, PC gaming felt more hands-on. You had to understand your system. You had to install drivers, DirectX, patches, sometimes even mess with compatibility. It could be annoying, but it also made you feel closer to the machine. You were not just consuming a product. You were maintaining your own little gaming ecosystem.
This page is from 1998, but it shows a whole culture:
physical media,
offline access,
patches you could keep,
tools you could install,
games you discovered by browsing a disc,
and a feeling that PC gaming was something you explored instead of something that was simply delivered to you by a launcher.
For me, this is why old CD-ROM magazines still matter. They are not just old paper and plastic. They are archives of how gaming and computing used to feel.
A single page like this can bring back an entire era.
The late 90s PC world was messy, unstable, experimental, and sometimes frustrating — but it had character. And when I look at something like this, I miss that character.
we really need more smilies :3
Wow!! What a change. Long time CachyOS user. I re-installed my xfce a while back, with only bash as a shell. Today I installed zsh & kitty, got them set up to my liken'. Looks and runs sweet.
look like it got it all op and working
My Pop's Getting a 2006 Silverado soon! Needs a new motor (Possibly-- Soft cammed' Chevys!)
Possibly going for a LS Crate motor (I Hope-- then that' be a fleet of sleepers!)
Happy Belated 4th to all whom celebrate, And stay cool out there! It's roasting!
Possibly going for a LS Crate motor (I Hope-- then that' be a fleet of sleepers!)
Happy Belated 4th to all whom celebrate, And stay cool out there! It's roasting!
Back With a Real Mic After About 4 Years Without One
For around 4 years, maybe a bit more, I have mostly livestreamed without a proper microphone. I finally fixed that now.
My old setup started back on 1 November 2016, when I bought an Audio-Technica AT2020 cardioid condenser microphone from Amazon UK. This was back when the UK was still part of the EU, so ordering from Amazon UK to Denmark was a lot less annoying than it became after Brexit.
The AT2020 order cost me:
£79.99 for the mic
£19.99 postage and packing
£99.98 total
DKK 861.55 paid total
Around the same time I also bought my first proper audio interface setup from Amazon UK:
Focusrite Scarlett Solo 2nd Gen USB Audio Interface
Neewer NW-35 boom arm / scissor arm stand
Mudder double-layer pop filter
That order cost:
£109.18 item subtotal
£6.94 postage and packing
£116.12 total
DKK 1,000.63 paid total
So it was not random cheap gear. It was a real entry-level recording setup, and for a time it worked.
But I never really liked the Focusrite Scarlett Solo 2nd Gen that much. About a year or two later, I got a Yamaha AG01 instead. I do not remember exactly where I bought the AG01 from, and I do not have the exact receipt in front of me, but from memory I think it was around 800 DKK or something close to that.
The strange part is that I originally thought the Yamaha AG01 might have been the problem. I had opened it before, moved it around, had it in boxes, and it had not exactly been treated like museum gear. But after testing it now, it seems the Yamaha was probably not the real problem.
The old AT2020 setup started giving me weird issues when I was livestreaming on Linux. Sometimes my voice would almost disappear and sound like it was underwater. There would still be a low hum or noise, so the mic was clearly “on”, but my voice was almost impossible to hear properly. I changed XLR cables a lot near the end, maybe once a year and later maybe even twice in one year, but the problem kept coming back.
So I stopped trusting it.
At some point I just threw the AT2020 out and never really got around to buying a new mic. After that I mostly just livestreamed without one.
Now I finally got a new setup.
Delivered 4 July 2026:
SE ELECTRONICS V7 Black - Vocal Microphone
NearStream ST20 Microphone Boom with 360° rotating swivel arm
AA AUDIO ACCESSORY XLR Cable, 2 m, pack of 2, with Neutrik REAN connectors
The new mic is different from the old AT2020. The AT2020 is a condenser microphone, which is more sensitive and can pick up more room noise, keyboard noise, breath and plosives. The sE V7 is a dynamic vocal microphone, which makes more sense for how I use it: gaming, livestreaming, talking close to the mic, and not yelling like a YouTube salesman.
I tested the new setup with my Yamaha AG01 in a CS2 livestream, and it worked like a charm. No random underwater sound, no weird dropouts, no sudden dead mic. The only issue was that my voice was a bit too low compared to the game audio, but that is more about gain, game volume and how I talk. I am not a loud talker.
Here is the test stream:
There is also a Denmark/EU angle to all this. Back in 2016, buying from Amazon UK was still fairly normal for me because the UK was still inside the EU. A lot of audio gear prices people talk about online are also US or UK prices, but when you live in Denmark the real price is the final price after shipping, VAT, currency conversion and import rules. That is why I like keeping the real numbers from my own orders.
For me, this was not about having studio gear for music. I just wanted something reliable for Linux gaming livestreams. I have been gaming for decades, I run Linux, and I just want my voice to be there when I talk over gameplay. The old setup became unreliable, so I gave up on it. The new sE V7 setup already feels like a better fit for what I actually do.
For around 4 years, maybe a bit more, I have mostly livestreamed without a proper microphone. I finally fixed that now.
My old setup started back on 1 November 2016, when I bought an Audio-Technica AT2020 cardioid condenser microphone from Amazon UK. This was back when the UK was still part of the EU, so ordering from Amazon UK to Denmark was a lot less annoying than it became after Brexit.
The AT2020 order cost me:
£79.99 for the mic
£19.99 postage and packing
£99.98 total
DKK 861.55 paid total
Around the same time I also bought my first proper audio interface setup from Amazon UK:
Focusrite Scarlett Solo 2nd Gen USB Audio Interface
Neewer NW-35 boom arm / scissor arm stand
Mudder double-layer pop filter
That order cost:
£109.18 item subtotal
£6.94 postage and packing
£116.12 total
DKK 1,000.63 paid total
So it was not random cheap gear. It was a real entry-level recording setup, and for a time it worked.
But I never really liked the Focusrite Scarlett Solo 2nd Gen that much. About a year or two later, I got a Yamaha AG01 instead. I do not remember exactly where I bought the AG01 from, and I do not have the exact receipt in front of me, but from memory I think it was around 800 DKK or something close to that.
The strange part is that I originally thought the Yamaha AG01 might have been the problem. I had opened it before, moved it around, had it in boxes, and it had not exactly been treated like museum gear. But after testing it now, it seems the Yamaha was probably not the real problem.
The old AT2020 setup started giving me weird issues when I was livestreaming on Linux. Sometimes my voice would almost disappear and sound like it was underwater. There would still be a low hum or noise, so the mic was clearly “on”, but my voice was almost impossible to hear properly. I changed XLR cables a lot near the end, maybe once a year and later maybe even twice in one year, but the problem kept coming back.
So I stopped trusting it.
At some point I just threw the AT2020 out and never really got around to buying a new mic. After that I mostly just livestreamed without one.
Now I finally got a new setup.
Delivered 4 July 2026:
SE ELECTRONICS V7 Black - Vocal Microphone
NearStream ST20 Microphone Boom with 360° rotating swivel arm
AA AUDIO ACCESSORY XLR Cable, 2 m, pack of 2, with Neutrik REAN connectors
The new mic is different from the old AT2020. The AT2020 is a condenser microphone, which is more sensitive and can pick up more room noise, keyboard noise, breath and plosives. The sE V7 is a dynamic vocal microphone, which makes more sense for how I use it: gaming, livestreaming, talking close to the mic, and not yelling like a YouTube salesman.
I tested the new setup with my Yamaha AG01 in a CS2 livestream, and it worked like a charm. No random underwater sound, no weird dropouts, no sudden dead mic. The only issue was that my voice was a bit too low compared to the game audio, but that is more about gain, game volume and how I talk. I am not a loud talker.
Here is the test stream:
There is also a Denmark/EU angle to all this. Back in 2016, buying from Amazon UK was still fairly normal for me because the UK was still inside the EU. A lot of audio gear prices people talk about online are also US or UK prices, but when you live in Denmark the real price is the final price after shipping, VAT, currency conversion and import rules. That is why I like keeping the real numbers from my own orders.
For me, this was not about having studio gear for music. I just wanted something reliable for Linux gaming livestreams. I have been gaming for decades, I run Linux, and I just want my voice to be there when I talk over gameplay. The old setup became unreliable, so I gave up on it. The new sE V7 setup already feels like a better fit for what I actually do.
Developing AI for OpenTTD, ATM in full swing with no sight to stop. repo counts 1000's of LOC already, I want it to be bad ass 
My Ubuntu Server home network setup + testing a security camera
I still find it a bit strange that I managed to build this setup, because I would still call myself limited when it comes to deep networking knowledge. But somehow I got it working, and I keep learning as I go.
My server is not just a normal NAS or media box anymore. It is basically the main brain of my home network.
It runs Ubuntu Server 26.04 LTS and handles several jobs:
So instead of letting a normal ISP router handle everything, the Linux box is in control. My fiber/ONT box goes into the server, then the server goes out to my LAN/switch/Wi-Fi access point. Pi-hole controls DNS and DHCP, and the firewall decides what is allowed in or out.
I try to keep the setup local-first and locked down. I do not want random services exposed to the internet unless there is a real reason. Plex is what I use for media. Jellyfin may be installed, but Plex is the active one. For remote access, I prefer a VPN-style setup instead of opening a bunch of ports.
The next thing I want to test is a security camera.
I have ordered one camera first, just as a test. If it works well, I may build a proper camera setup for the whole apartment. Not because I have had major problems. I have lived here for around 20 years and have never had a break-in. But for most of that time, there was usually someone in the apartment. The last few years I have lived alone, so having a camera system would give me a little extra peace of mind, especially when I am away.
My plan is not to make the camera some cloud-connected mess if I can avoid it. The safer design I want is something like:
Basically, I want the camera to be part of the local network, not another random smart device talking to the internet all day.
I know my setup is not a professional enterprise design. It is a self-built home server that grew over time. But it works, and the structure makes sense to me: Linux router/firewall first, Pi-hole for DNS/DHCP, Plex for media, storage for backups, and now maybe local camera recording.
The main things I still want to improve are documentation and hardening:
It is rough and self-made, but that is also what I like about Linux. I did not buy a closed black box. I built something, broke parts of it, fixed parts of it, and learned from it.
Now I just need to test if the camera side can be added without making the whole setup messy or unsafe.
I still find it a bit strange that I managed to build this setup, because I would still call myself limited when it comes to deep networking knowledge. But somehow I got it working, and I keep learning as I go.
My server is not just a normal NAS or media box anymore. It is basically the main brain of my home network.
It runs Ubuntu Server 26.04 LTS and handles several jobs:
- Router
- Firewall/NAT
- Pi-hole DNS filtering
- DHCP
- Plex Media Server
- Docker/services
- Local storage
- Backups/SFTP/rsync-style transfers
- WireGuard/VPN-style access
So instead of letting a normal ISP router handle everything, the Linux box is in control. My fiber/ONT box goes into the server, then the server goes out to my LAN/switch/Wi-Fi access point. Pi-hole controls DNS and DHCP, and the firewall decides what is allowed in or out.
I try to keep the setup local-first and locked down. I do not want random services exposed to the internet unless there is a real reason. Plex is what I use for media. Jellyfin may be installed, but Plex is the active one. For remote access, I prefer a VPN-style setup instead of opening a bunch of ports.
The next thing I want to test is a security camera.
I have ordered one camera first, just as a test. If it works well, I may build a proper camera setup for the whole apartment. Not because I have had major problems. I have lived here for around 20 years and have never had a break-in. But for most of that time, there was usually someone in the apartment. The last few years I have lived alone, so having a camera system would give me a little extra peace of mind, especially when I am away.
My plan is not to make the camera some cloud-connected mess if I can avoid it. The safer design I want is something like:
- Camera on LAN
- Server records video
- Camera does not get open internet access unless needed
- Remote viewing only through VPN/trusted access
- No unnecessary port forwarding
Basically, I want the camera to be part of the local network, not another random smart device talking to the internet all day.
I know my setup is not a professional enterprise design. It is a self-built home server that grew over time. But it works, and the structure makes sense to me: Linux router/firewall first, Pi-hole for DNS/DHCP, Plex for media, storage for backups, and now maybe local camera recording.
The main things I still want to improve are documentation and hardening:
- Document all services and ports
- Backup firewall, Pi-hole, and mount configs
- Check what is listening on the network
- Keep cameras isolated as much as possible
- Avoid exposing admin panels to the internet
- Make sure remote access is VPN-based
It is rough and self-made, but that is also what I like about Linux. I did not buy a closed black box. I built something, broke parts of it, fixed parts of it, and learned from it.
Now I just need to test if the camera side can be added without making the whole setup messy or unsafe.
Week 3 composing paragraph, organizing screenshot in order and writing the article for Modicia O.S.
Making good progress so far.
Making good progress so far.
my crysis review of the game
https://kibasnowpaw.blog/2026/06/29...ion-review-the-monster-that-ate-my-gpu-twice/
https://kibasnowpaw.blog/2026/06/29...ion-review-the-monster-that-ate-my-gpu-twice/
This is a old gameplay i never was a fan of AC7 i played a handful of them included them to PS1
Today, after getting out of the shop and getting cat food, looked to the sky and it indeed was beautiful.
Two interesting clouds were in the sky. One looked like a peace symbol, and the other, Looked like the USS Enterprise E from ST: First contact. (I think I might be one of the few here who would even look at a cloud and say, "Oh Look! It;'s the enterprise!" What can I say, I'm a fruit loop lol!)
Indeed, very nice.
Hope all is well.
Two interesting clouds were in the sky. One looked like a peace symbol, and the other, Looked like the USS Enterprise E from ST: First contact. (I think I might be one of the few here who would even look at a cloud and say, "Oh Look! It;'s the enterprise!" What can I say, I'm a fruit loop lol!)
Indeed, very nice.
Hope all is well.
Age of Mythology on Linux – Gameplay Part 1, First Two Missions
I recently got back to this game after someone mentioned it to me while I was playing Empire Earth. A few days later I found a physical copy in Kirppu, a second-hand store here in Denmark, for only 10 kr., which is roughly $1.45 USD / €1.34 EUR.
At that price, I had to grab it.
I have to be honest: I was never really a huge fan of Age of Mythology. I think I only played it a handful of times back in the day. But replaying it now on Linux made me appreciate where it sits in RTS history.
The best way I can describe it is this:
Age of Mythology feels like a transition game.
It came out in 2002, developed by Ensemble Studios, the same studio behind Age of Empires. Visually, it feels like the period where RTS games were moving away from the older look of games like Empire Earth and toward a more polished 3D style. You can see that in the water, lighting, terrain, and unit models.
But mechanically, it still feels very much like that older RTS generation.
The sounds, pacing, resource gathering, unit control, and general flow still remind me a lot of Empire Earth and other early 2000s strategy games.
That is what makes it interesting to revisit now.
It is not my favorite RTS.
It is not the game I personally connected with the most.
But it is absolutely part of that golden RTS era where developers were still experimenting, still taking risks, and still trying to push the genre forward.
This first video covers the opening missions, so it is more about getting back into the game, testing how it runs, and seeing how it feels today on Linux.
For an old physical copy found cheap in a second-hand store, I think that is pretty cool.
I recently got back to this game after someone mentioned it to me while I was playing Empire Earth. A few days later I found a physical copy in Kirppu, a second-hand store here in Denmark, for only 10 kr., which is roughly $1.45 USD / €1.34 EUR.
At that price, I had to grab it.
I have to be honest: I was never really a huge fan of Age of Mythology. I think I only played it a handful of times back in the day. But replaying it now on Linux made me appreciate where it sits in RTS history.
The best way I can describe it is this:
Age of Mythology feels like a transition game.
It came out in 2002, developed by Ensemble Studios, the same studio behind Age of Empires. Visually, it feels like the period where RTS games were moving away from the older look of games like Empire Earth and toward a more polished 3D style. You can see that in the water, lighting, terrain, and unit models.
But mechanically, it still feels very much like that older RTS generation.
The sounds, pacing, resource gathering, unit control, and general flow still remind me a lot of Empire Earth and other early 2000s strategy games.
That is what makes it interesting to revisit now.
It is not my favorite RTS.
It is not the game I personally connected with the most.
But it is absolutely part of that golden RTS era where developers were still experimenting, still taking risks, and still trying to push the genre forward.
This first video covers the opening missions, so it is more about getting back into the game, testing how it runs, and seeing how it feels today on Linux.
For an old physical copy found cheap in a second-hand store, I think that is pretty cool.
I got Crysis 2 working in wine disk version idk if that's how the game works or not but in dx11 then HD Texture Pack don't work but in dx9 then HD Texture Pack do work since i didn't read if it needed to be dx9 i chose dx11 over the HD Texture Pack
Title: Today I bought 44 old PC games, and it reminded me why physical media still matters
Today I went out hunting for old PC games and came home with 44 games for 181 DKK — about $28 / €24 / £21. That works out to around 4.11 DKK per game — about $0.63 / €0.55 / £0.48 each.
Some were common filler, some were duplicates, some were kids’ games, some were sports games, and some were surprisingly good finds. The funny part is that two games that look like ordinary football-manager shelf junk jumped straight into the high-value part of my CLZ list: Championship Manager: Season 01/02 and Football Manager 2014. I paid 2 DKK — about $0.31 / €0.27 / £0.23 — for Championship Manager: Season 01/02, and 3 DKK — about $0.46 / €0.40 / £0.35 — for Football Manager 2014.
Other finds included The Settlers VI: Rise of an Empire – The Eastern Realm for 2 DKK — about $0.31 / €0.27 / £0.23 — Hitman: Codename 47 for 1 DKK — about $0.15 / €0.13 / £0.12 — Alpha Protocol for 1 DKK — about $0.15 / €0.13 / £0.12 — Age of Mythology for 10 DKK — about $1.54 / €1.34 / £1.16 — Far Cry 3 for 5 DKK — about $0.77 / €0.67 / £0.58 — Stronghold Legends for 9 DKK — about $1.39 / €1.20 / £1.04 — Silent Hunter 5 for 3 DKK — about $0.46 / €0.40 / £0.35 — Ship Simulator 2008 for 3 DKK — about $0.46 / €0.40 / £0.35 — several The Sims expansions around 7 DKK each — about $1.08 / €0.94 / £0.81 — and World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King in the cardboard box for 8 DKK — about $1.23 / €1.07 / £0.93.
Some of them are not perfect. My Medal of Honor: Allied Assault copy is missing disc 1, so it is more of a donor copy for now. But for 2 DKK — about $0.31 / €0.27 / £0.23 — even that is useful if I later find a damaged copy with the missing disc.
My physical PC game collection is getting large now, and I am putting real work into it. This is no longer just a random pile of old discs. I use CLZ to track condition, completeness, prices, stores, notes, and cover art. I am also slowly replacing bad covers with cleaned-up 1:1 versions based on the original cover, not AI redesigns. The point is not to make fake new covers. The point is to restore what is already there: crop it correctly, clean it, straighten it, remove glare or dirt, and make it useful as proper database artwork.
This has become more than just collecting cheap old games for me.
I have been gaming for more than 25 years. I grew up with older games, discs, manuals, boxes, weird installers, patches, config files, broken controls, and games that sometimes needed work before they behaved. I am also a Linux user, and that changes how you look at games. On Linux you get used to solving problems yourself. Proton, Wine, old launchers, community patches, widescreen fixes, no-CD patches for games you legally own, offline installers, backups, old hardware quirks — that is part of the culture. You do not just accept that something is dead because a launcher, DRM system, or publisher says so.
That is why physical games and preservation matter more to me now than they did years ago.
The modern industry keeps pushing players toward a future where we do not really own anything. Games are tied to accounts, launchers, remote activation, online services, disappearing DLC, expiring licenses, server shutdowns, subscriptions, and legal grey areas. Even normal game features like user-created files, imported music, mods, custom content, or old multiplayer support can become a licensing or policy problem later. The game stops being a game and becomes a permission slip.
The whole Stop Killing Games discussion exists because of that problem. It is not about forcing publishers to support every game forever with new content and live-service updates. It is about the basic idea that if a game was sold to customers, it should not be deliberately made unplayable when the company decides it is done with it. The Ubisoft The Crew situation made that very clear. A paid game was shut down, it had no proper offline mode, and people who bought it were left with nothing useful. That is not preservation. That is a product being erased.
Then you get the subscription logic: “get comfortable not owning your games.” No. I do not want to get comfortable with that. I do not want my library to become a temporary access list controlled by companies that can change terms, remove content, ban accounts, close servers, delist titles, or decide that a game is no longer worth keeping alive.
This is why old physical PC games feel more honest to me, even when they are flawed.
A disc is not magic. Physical media does not solve everything. Some old PC games still need activation. Some keys are used. Some discs are scratched. Some games need patches that are not on the disc. Some multiplayer modes are gone. Some games are broken on modern systems. Some boxes are damaged, some manuals are missing, and some copies are only useful as donor copies. But at least there is something real there: the disc, the manual, the case, the cover, the version, the history. You can document it. You can preserve it. You can try to make it run. You can keep it outside a corporate account system.
As a Linux gamer, that matters. I do not collect only because of nostalgia. I collect because I do not trust the direction the industry is going.
Modern AAA gaming is full of monetization, launchers, DRM, live-service design, battle passes, accounts, online-only systems, subscriptions, and “you own a license, not a product” language. We have seen this kind of market rot before in different forms. Back in the old console crash era, the market was flooded with low-effort junk and the trust between players and the industry broke down. Today it is more advanced, more digital, more polished, and more legally protected, but the feeling is similar: too much product, too little respect, and too many companies trying to control the customer after the sale.
So yes, I am buying old PC games from thrift shops, flea markets, charity shops, and second-hand stores.
I am documenting them.
I am cleaning up the covers.
I am tracking condition and missing discs.
I am keeping physical copies where I can.
I am preserving the kind of games that might otherwise end up in the trash.
I am building a collection that still exists even if a publisher account disappears.
Maybe the gaming industry will not collapse in my lifetime. Maybe it will just keep getting worse slowly. Maybe laws will change. Maybe movements like Stop Killing Games will force publishers to provide offline modes, private server tools, or real end-of-life patches. I hope so.
But I am not going to sit around and wait for the industry to decide whether I am allowed to keep my games.
For me, physical PC collecting is not just nostalgia. It is a small personal answer to a bigger problem: games should be preserved, not erased. And if modern publishers want us to get comfortable not owning games, then I am going the other way.
I am getting more comfortable owning what I can.
Today I went out hunting for old PC games and came home with 44 games for 181 DKK — about $28 / €24 / £21. That works out to around 4.11 DKK per game — about $0.63 / €0.55 / £0.48 each.
Some were common filler, some were duplicates, some were kids’ games, some were sports games, and some were surprisingly good finds. The funny part is that two games that look like ordinary football-manager shelf junk jumped straight into the high-value part of my CLZ list: Championship Manager: Season 01/02 and Football Manager 2014. I paid 2 DKK — about $0.31 / €0.27 / £0.23 — for Championship Manager: Season 01/02, and 3 DKK — about $0.46 / €0.40 / £0.35 — for Football Manager 2014.
Other finds included The Settlers VI: Rise of an Empire – The Eastern Realm for 2 DKK — about $0.31 / €0.27 / £0.23 — Hitman: Codename 47 for 1 DKK — about $0.15 / €0.13 / £0.12 — Alpha Protocol for 1 DKK — about $0.15 / €0.13 / £0.12 — Age of Mythology for 10 DKK — about $1.54 / €1.34 / £1.16 — Far Cry 3 for 5 DKK — about $0.77 / €0.67 / £0.58 — Stronghold Legends for 9 DKK — about $1.39 / €1.20 / £1.04 — Silent Hunter 5 for 3 DKK — about $0.46 / €0.40 / £0.35 — Ship Simulator 2008 for 3 DKK — about $0.46 / €0.40 / £0.35 — several The Sims expansions around 7 DKK each — about $1.08 / €0.94 / £0.81 — and World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King in the cardboard box for 8 DKK — about $1.23 / €1.07 / £0.93.
Some of them are not perfect. My Medal of Honor: Allied Assault copy is missing disc 1, so it is more of a donor copy for now. But for 2 DKK — about $0.31 / €0.27 / £0.23 — even that is useful if I later find a damaged copy with the missing disc.
My physical PC game collection is getting large now, and I am putting real work into it. This is no longer just a random pile of old discs. I use CLZ to track condition, completeness, prices, stores, notes, and cover art. I am also slowly replacing bad covers with cleaned-up 1:1 versions based on the original cover, not AI redesigns. The point is not to make fake new covers. The point is to restore what is already there: crop it correctly, clean it, straighten it, remove glare or dirt, and make it useful as proper database artwork.
This has become more than just collecting cheap old games for me.
I have been gaming for more than 25 years. I grew up with older games, discs, manuals, boxes, weird installers, patches, config files, broken controls, and games that sometimes needed work before they behaved. I am also a Linux user, and that changes how you look at games. On Linux you get used to solving problems yourself. Proton, Wine, old launchers, community patches, widescreen fixes, no-CD patches for games you legally own, offline installers, backups, old hardware quirks — that is part of the culture. You do not just accept that something is dead because a launcher, DRM system, or publisher says so.
That is why physical games and preservation matter more to me now than they did years ago.
The modern industry keeps pushing players toward a future where we do not really own anything. Games are tied to accounts, launchers, remote activation, online services, disappearing DLC, expiring licenses, server shutdowns, subscriptions, and legal grey areas. Even normal game features like user-created files, imported music, mods, custom content, or old multiplayer support can become a licensing or policy problem later. The game stops being a game and becomes a permission slip.
The whole Stop Killing Games discussion exists because of that problem. It is not about forcing publishers to support every game forever with new content and live-service updates. It is about the basic idea that if a game was sold to customers, it should not be deliberately made unplayable when the company decides it is done with it. The Ubisoft The Crew situation made that very clear. A paid game was shut down, it had no proper offline mode, and people who bought it were left with nothing useful. That is not preservation. That is a product being erased.
Then you get the subscription logic: “get comfortable not owning your games.” No. I do not want to get comfortable with that. I do not want my library to become a temporary access list controlled by companies that can change terms, remove content, ban accounts, close servers, delist titles, or decide that a game is no longer worth keeping alive.
This is why old physical PC games feel more honest to me, even when they are flawed.
A disc is not magic. Physical media does not solve everything. Some old PC games still need activation. Some keys are used. Some discs are scratched. Some games need patches that are not on the disc. Some multiplayer modes are gone. Some games are broken on modern systems. Some boxes are damaged, some manuals are missing, and some copies are only useful as donor copies. But at least there is something real there: the disc, the manual, the case, the cover, the version, the history. You can document it. You can preserve it. You can try to make it run. You can keep it outside a corporate account system.
As a Linux gamer, that matters. I do not collect only because of nostalgia. I collect because I do not trust the direction the industry is going.
Modern AAA gaming is full of monetization, launchers, DRM, live-service design, battle passes, accounts, online-only systems, subscriptions, and “you own a license, not a product” language. We have seen this kind of market rot before in different forms. Back in the old console crash era, the market was flooded with low-effort junk and the trust between players and the industry broke down. Today it is more advanced, more digital, more polished, and more legally protected, but the feeling is similar: too much product, too little respect, and too many companies trying to control the customer after the sale.
So yes, I am buying old PC games from thrift shops, flea markets, charity shops, and second-hand stores.
I am documenting them.
I am cleaning up the covers.
I am tracking condition and missing discs.
I am keeping physical copies where I can.
I am preserving the kind of games that might otherwise end up in the trash.
I am building a collection that still exists even if a publisher account disappears.
Maybe the gaming industry will not collapse in my lifetime. Maybe it will just keep getting worse slowly. Maybe laws will change. Maybe movements like Stop Killing Games will force publishers to provide offline modes, private server tools, or real end-of-life patches. I hope so.
But I am not going to sit around and wait for the industry to decide whether I am allowed to keep my games.
For me, physical PC collecting is not just nostalgia. It is a small personal answer to a bigger problem: games should be preserved, not erased. And if modern publishers want us to get comfortable not owning games, then I am going the other way.
I am getting more comfortable owning what I can.
fox i hate SecuROM why do Crysis Warhaed have that worst thing ever made and it did nothing to stop it i mean i can get a crack that ignore it so what was the point in the first place
I Swapped My Kernel Back To Linux-Zen (CachyOs) and Vanilla V 7.1.1 (Debain 13)
Turning my Canon HF G70 into one of the most expensive webcams I will probably ever use
In my Dead Space stream, I started using my Canon HF G70 as a webcam.
Stream example:
And yes, this is one of those setups that is both stupid and practical at the same time.
I bought the Canon HF G70 about two years ago, around 2024, and I have barely used it. I honestly kind of regret buying it. Not because it is a useless camera, but because I never really liked the recording quality enough for the kind of videos I wanted to make with it.
So instead of letting an expensive camera sit there doing nothing, I decided to use it for something.
A webcam.
A very, very expensive webcam.
I paid around 6,666 DKK for it when I bought it, which is roughly €891.82 / $1,034.32. Today I have seen it around 7,490 DKK, which is roughly €1,002.06 / $1,162.18.
So yes. If we are going to be dramatic about it, this is probably one of the most expensive webcams a normal person can accidentally end up using.
But the annoying part is that, as a webcam, it actually makes sense.
The video quality is much better than a normal cheap webcam. It is a real camcorder, not a tiny plastic webcam pretending to be a camera. It has proper optics, better control, better image handling, and it simply looks more serious than a basic webcam.
One big reason the Canon HF G70 still makes sense for streaming is the autofocus.
It has face detection / face tracking autofocus, so when I am sitting in front of it, it should detect my face and keep focus on me instead of drifting to the background. That matters when gaming, because I am not sitting like a statue. I move, lean back, look at the screen, react to the game, and sometimes probably look like the Ishimura itself is draining my soul.
A normal cheap webcam can easily look soft, flat, noisy, or just generally bad. With the G70, the picture side is much more solid. It can keep my face in focus, and that means the camera can actually behave like a high-end webcam.
So the video side is not really the problem.
The problem is sound.
The Canon can send video over USB-C as a webcam/UVC device, and that part works. But in my setup, USB-C only gives me the video. I do not get usable microphone sound from the camera through USB.
So the picture works.
The sound does not.
Because of course it cannot just be simple.
This means I had to build a workaround, because I still wanted to use the camera’s built-in microphone somehow. The camera has a headphone output, so my test setup is:
Canon HF G70 built-in microphone
→ camera headphone output
→ 3.5 mm jack male-to-male cable
→ Yamaha AG06/AG03 mixer input
→ Yamaha mixer sends audio over USB
→ PC / OBS / stream
So instead of the camera sending audio through USB-C directly, I am taking the camera’s audio from the headphone jack and routing it into the Yamaha mixer. Then the mixer acts as the USB audio interface and sends the signal to the PC.
It is very “Linux gamer with too much old hardware and not enough sleep,” but technically it should work.
The video path is simple:
Canon HF G70
→ USB-C
→ PC
The audio path is the cursed one:
Canon HF G70 built-in mic
→ headphone out
→ 3.5 mm jack cable
→ Yamaha AG06/AG03
→ USB
→ PC
The Yamaha mixer is made for streaming and audio-interface work, so that part makes sense. It can take audio sources, mix them, and send them to the PC over USB. So the Canon handles the video, and the Yamaha handles the audio.
The main downside is obvious: the built-in camera mic is still a built-in camera mic.
It is not close to my mouth. It is about an arm’s length away from my face. So the sound is going to have some room tone. It will pick up more of the room, keyboard, chair, game audio leakage, and general background space than a real close microphone would.
That is not really the camera’s fault. That is just physics. The farther the microphone is from your mouth, the more room you hear. A mic close to your face will almost always sound better for voice than a mic sitting on a camera across the desk.
So yes, the sound will probably be more roomy.
But if it works, it is still better than nothing.
The real test will not be whether it works in a silent local recording. The real test is whether it still sounds usable when game audio is under it, especially in a game like Dead Space, where the sound design is full of vents, metal, monsters, whispers, machinery, alarms, and general psychological damage.
That is where bad microphone audio can drown fast.
I did some basic testing, and so far it seems usable. The question is how well it holds up during an actual stream when the game audio is running and I am talking over it.
If the sound is acceptable, I can live with it for now.
Because the other option is buying a new microphone, and I am not really in the mood to spend 500–800 DKK on that right now. That is around €66.89–€107.03 / $77.58–$124.13.
A small camera-mounted or clip-on mic could be around 149 DKK, roughly €19.93 / $23.12, and that might already improve the sound if placed better. A more serious mic around 700 DKK, roughly €93.65 / $108.61, would probably sound better, especially if it is more directional and has some kind of windscreen or filter.
But even then, distance still matters.
If the mic stays on the camera, it is still an arm’s length away. A better mic pointed at me would help, but it will not magically behave like a proper close microphone near my mouth.
So this is where I am right now:
I have an expensive Canon HF G70 that I regret buying for normal recording.
I do not like letting expensive hardware sit unused.
As a webcam, the video side actually makes sense.
It has proper camcorder image quality, face tracking / face detection autofocus, and should keep my face in focus while I stream.
USB-C gives me video, but not proper mic audio in my setup.
The workaround is routing the camera’s headphone output into the Yamaha mixer.
The Yamaha sends the audio to the PC over USB.
The audio may sound roomy, but it may be good enough for now.
And honestly, that is very much my kind of setup.
Not clean.
Not perfect.
Not “professional studio polished.”
Just a gamer trying to make the hardware he already owns actually do something useful.
If it was not around 4 in the morning and I did not have to be up again in a few hours, I probably would have tested it properly right now with local recordings, game sound, voice testing, OBS levels, and all the usual “just one more setting” nonsense.
But I also know myself.
That is exactly how you go from “I will just test this for 10 minutes” to “why is the sun coming up and why am I still adjusting audio filters?”
So the real test will probably be in the next episode.
If it works, then my Canon HF G70 becomes my absurdly expensive webcam.
If it does not, then I am back in the endless technical swamp of Linux streaming, audio routing, camera workarounds, mixer settings, and asking myself why I keep doing this to my own brain.
But for now, the plan is simple:
Use the Canon for video.
Use the face tracking so my face stays in focus.
Use the Yamaha mixer for audio.
Accept that the built-in mic may sound a little roomy.
Avoid buying another mic unless I really have to.
And keep streaming.
Because at the end of the day, the setup does not have to be perfect.
It just has to work well enough that I can play games, talk, and not sound like I am broadcasting from the bottom of the USG Ishimura’s ventilation system.
In my Dead Space stream, I started using my Canon HF G70 as a webcam.
Stream example:
And yes, this is one of those setups that is both stupid and practical at the same time.
I bought the Canon HF G70 about two years ago, around 2024, and I have barely used it. I honestly kind of regret buying it. Not because it is a useless camera, but because I never really liked the recording quality enough for the kind of videos I wanted to make with it.
So instead of letting an expensive camera sit there doing nothing, I decided to use it for something.
A webcam.
A very, very expensive webcam.
I paid around 6,666 DKK for it when I bought it, which is roughly €891.82 / $1,034.32. Today I have seen it around 7,490 DKK, which is roughly €1,002.06 / $1,162.18.
So yes. If we are going to be dramatic about it, this is probably one of the most expensive webcams a normal person can accidentally end up using.
But the annoying part is that, as a webcam, it actually makes sense.
The video quality is much better than a normal cheap webcam. It is a real camcorder, not a tiny plastic webcam pretending to be a camera. It has proper optics, better control, better image handling, and it simply looks more serious than a basic webcam.
One big reason the Canon HF G70 still makes sense for streaming is the autofocus.
It has face detection / face tracking autofocus, so when I am sitting in front of it, it should detect my face and keep focus on me instead of drifting to the background. That matters when gaming, because I am not sitting like a statue. I move, lean back, look at the screen, react to the game, and sometimes probably look like the Ishimura itself is draining my soul.
A normal cheap webcam can easily look soft, flat, noisy, or just generally bad. With the G70, the picture side is much more solid. It can keep my face in focus, and that means the camera can actually behave like a high-end webcam.
So the video side is not really the problem.
The problem is sound.
The Canon can send video over USB-C as a webcam/UVC device, and that part works. But in my setup, USB-C only gives me the video. I do not get usable microphone sound from the camera through USB.
So the picture works.
The sound does not.
Because of course it cannot just be simple.
This means I had to build a workaround, because I still wanted to use the camera’s built-in microphone somehow. The camera has a headphone output, so my test setup is:
Canon HF G70 built-in microphone
→ camera headphone output
→ 3.5 mm jack male-to-male cable
→ Yamaha AG06/AG03 mixer input
→ Yamaha mixer sends audio over USB
→ PC / OBS / stream
So instead of the camera sending audio through USB-C directly, I am taking the camera’s audio from the headphone jack and routing it into the Yamaha mixer. Then the mixer acts as the USB audio interface and sends the signal to the PC.
It is very “Linux gamer with too much old hardware and not enough sleep,” but technically it should work.
The video path is simple:
Canon HF G70
→ USB-C
→ PC
The audio path is the cursed one:
Canon HF G70 built-in mic
→ headphone out
→ 3.5 mm jack cable
→ Yamaha AG06/AG03
→ USB
→ PC
The Yamaha mixer is made for streaming and audio-interface work, so that part makes sense. It can take audio sources, mix them, and send them to the PC over USB. So the Canon handles the video, and the Yamaha handles the audio.
The main downside is obvious: the built-in camera mic is still a built-in camera mic.
It is not close to my mouth. It is about an arm’s length away from my face. So the sound is going to have some room tone. It will pick up more of the room, keyboard, chair, game audio leakage, and general background space than a real close microphone would.
That is not really the camera’s fault. That is just physics. The farther the microphone is from your mouth, the more room you hear. A mic close to your face will almost always sound better for voice than a mic sitting on a camera across the desk.
So yes, the sound will probably be more roomy.
But if it works, it is still better than nothing.
The real test will not be whether it works in a silent local recording. The real test is whether it still sounds usable when game audio is under it, especially in a game like Dead Space, where the sound design is full of vents, metal, monsters, whispers, machinery, alarms, and general psychological damage.
That is where bad microphone audio can drown fast.
I did some basic testing, and so far it seems usable. The question is how well it holds up during an actual stream when the game audio is running and I am talking over it.
If the sound is acceptable, I can live with it for now.
Because the other option is buying a new microphone, and I am not really in the mood to spend 500–800 DKK on that right now. That is around €66.89–€107.03 / $77.58–$124.13.
A small camera-mounted or clip-on mic could be around 149 DKK, roughly €19.93 / $23.12, and that might already improve the sound if placed better. A more serious mic around 700 DKK, roughly €93.65 / $108.61, would probably sound better, especially if it is more directional and has some kind of windscreen or filter.
But even then, distance still matters.
If the mic stays on the camera, it is still an arm’s length away. A better mic pointed at me would help, but it will not magically behave like a proper close microphone near my mouth.
So this is where I am right now:
I have an expensive Canon HF G70 that I regret buying for normal recording.
I do not like letting expensive hardware sit unused.
As a webcam, the video side actually makes sense.
It has proper camcorder image quality, face tracking / face detection autofocus, and should keep my face in focus while I stream.
USB-C gives me video, but not proper mic audio in my setup.
The workaround is routing the camera’s headphone output into the Yamaha mixer.
The Yamaha sends the audio to the PC over USB.
The audio may sound roomy, but it may be good enough for now.
And honestly, that is very much my kind of setup.
Not clean.
Not perfect.
Not “professional studio polished.”
Just a gamer trying to make the hardware he already owns actually do something useful.
If it was not around 4 in the morning and I did not have to be up again in a few hours, I probably would have tested it properly right now with local recordings, game sound, voice testing, OBS levels, and all the usual “just one more setting” nonsense.
But I also know myself.
That is exactly how you go from “I will just test this for 10 minutes” to “why is the sun coming up and why am I still adjusting audio filters?”
So the real test will probably be in the next episode.
If it works, then my Canon HF G70 becomes my absurdly expensive webcam.
If it does not, then I am back in the endless technical swamp of Linux streaming, audio routing, camera workarounds, mixer settings, and asking myself why I keep doing this to my own brain.
But for now, the plan is simple:
Use the Canon for video.
Use the face tracking so my face stays in focus.
Use the Yamaha mixer for audio.
Accept that the built-in mic may sound a little roomy.
Avoid buying another mic unless I really have to.
And keep streaming.
Because at the end of the day, the setup does not have to be perfect.
It just has to work well enough that I can play games, talk, and not sound like I am broadcasting from the bottom of the USG Ishimura’s ventilation system.