The Table Full of Half-Broken Machines
At a flea market outside Asheville, between old CB radios and scratched Xbox 360 controllers, there was a tiny handheld computer sitting on a folding table beside a pile of loose SATA cables. The shell looked heat-warped. Somebody had jammed a Blackberry keyboard into a yellowed 3D printed enclosure with visible glue residue around the edges. A tiny TFT display showed an IRC client scrolling upward one line at a time.
The guy selling it kept apologizing for the firmware.
“WiFi crashes sometimes if Bluetooth is enabled.”
Then he smiled like that was part of the charm.
That feeling keeps appearing lately. Not just in electronics circles either. Everywhere. People drifting back toward unfinished technology. Small systems. Weird devices. Tools that still expose their seams.
Cardputer clones. CYD boards. Tiny VGA terminals. Homemade PDA operating systems. ESP32 communicators assembled from scavenged keyboards and battery packs wrapped in electrical tape.
None of this is normal consumer behavior anymore.
Which is probably why it feels alive again.
The Return of Friction
Modern devices are designed to disappear psychologically. The smoother the interface becomes, the less aware you are of the machine underneath. Phones anticipate your actions before you finish thinking them. Apps flatten every interaction into gestures so optimized they barely feel physical anymore.
These ESP32 handhelds do the opposite.
You notice everything.
The keyboard spacing. The lag. The weird battery behavior. The crude menu systems. The fact that opening an image larger than expected can freeze the device hard enough to require pulling power manually.
And strangely, people love that.
Not because inconvenience is magically virtuous. Sometimes these things are genuinely irritating. But irritation creates awareness. You become conscious of the machine again. Conscious of memory limits. Power draw. Display constraints. File systems. Heat.
You stop treating computing like invisible magic and start treating it like a physical process.
That changes behavior.
I watched someone at a hackerspace use an ESP32 terminal with a folding Bluetooth keyboard for nearly an hour without once opening social media. The device simply wasn’t capable of supporting compulsive multitasking comfortably enough.
The machine enforced intentionality through limitation.
There’s something quietly radical about that.
Why the Cardputer Hit So Hard
The M5Stack Cardputer became one of those devices people bought as a joke and then accidentally started carrying around seriously.
At first glance it looks almost toy-like. Tiny keyboard. Tiny screen. ESP32-S3 board inside. Cheap plastic shell. The kind of thing you’d expect to end up abandoned in a drawer after one weekend.
Instead people started building entire workflows around it.
Wardriving tools. Offline note systems. IRC clients. Meshtastic interfaces. Mini scripting terminals. Tiny synth experiments. Portable serial consoles for embedded debugging.
The limitations are impossible to ignore. Typing feels cramped. The screen forces brevity. Battery life fluctuates depending on what kind of chaos you’re running on it.
But because the device asks more from you physically, interactions feel strangely deliberate.
You think before opening things. Before typing. Before connecting.
Modern computing removed almost all resistance. The Cardputer adds some back in accidentally.
That accident matters.
CYD Boards and the Beauty of Ugly Hardware
The Cheap Yellow Display boards became their own underground species surprisingly fast.
Originally they were just inexpensive ESP32 touchscreen modules people grabbed for practical projects. Then the internet did what it always does when cheap hardware becomes accessible.
People mutated them into everything else.
Portable network scanners. Tiny cyberdecks. GPS trackers. PDA interfaces. Retro terminal systems. Weather dashboards. LoRa communicators. Music visualizers. Touchscreen BBS clients.
Some of the enclosures look incredible.
Others look like they were assembled during a power outage using only adrenaline and expired super glue.
Honestly, the ugly ones are often more interesting.
You can see the decision-making process physically embedded into the hardware. Crooked USB cutouts where somebody modified the case dimensions halfway through. Visible sanding marks. Misaligned tactile switches. Layer lines from a budget printer running too hot in a humid room.
Modern consumer electronics erase evidence of human contact. These devices preserve it.
The flaws become documentation.
Blackberry Keyboards Refusing to Die
The Blackberry revival says something important about the emotional side of interface design. BlackBerry
People are harvesting keyboards from dead Blackberry phones like mechanics salvaging parts from extinct machinery. Entire Discord servers exist purely to discuss matrix wiring, I2C adapters, and keyboard controller boards for old Blackberry components.
Not because Blackberry phones were objectively perfect.
They weren’t.
But physical keyboards changed how people interacted with language. Your thumbs learned positions. Typing developed rhythm. There was resistance and geography to it.
Glass screens flattened all of that into smooth ambiguity.
Now people are rebuilding tactile computing manually with soldering irons and GitHub repositories because they miss the sensation of input feeling physical.
Some of these builds look professionally engineered.
Others look unstable in ways that inspire confidence.
One guy mounted a Blackberry keyboard into an old TI-83 calculator shell connected to an ESP32 board with exposed jumper wires snaking through the battery compartment. It looked vaguely dangerous. He was using it as a portable writing terminal.
I completely understood the appeal.
Homemade Operating Systems and Digital Basement Laboratories
One of the strangest parts of this entire scene is the operating systems.
Tiny homemade PDA environments built by individual developers or tiny communities. Primitive multitasking. Crude file managers. Lightweight GUI systems running on hardware that technically has no business pretending to be a desktop environment.
And people are genuinely excited about them.
You scroll through the GitHub issues pages and watch computing culture becoming personal again:
“Need better SD card handling.”
“Audio playback distorted after sleep mode.”
“Thinking about adding IRC support.”
“Battery indicator not calibrated.”
It feels less like software development and more like overhearing conversations in a garage workshop at midnight.
The commercial industry trained people to associate unfinished software with incompetence. But historically, unfinished systems were where experimentation actually happened. Shareware. BBS tools. Homebrew operating systems. Weird Linux distributions burned onto unlabeled CDs.
The polished era might end up being the temporary anomaly.
A lot of younger people entering this scene never experienced computing before platform ecosystems hardened into invisible infrastructure. They grew up inside sealed systems where every interaction passed through corporate interfaces optimized for engagement metrics.
Then they touch a tiny ESP32 handheld running unstable firmware written by one exhausted person somewhere in Eastern Europe and suddenly computing feels personal again.
Not efficient.
Personal.
Tiny Computers and Psychological Scale
Modern computers became emotionally distant partly because they became incomprehensibly capable.
Your smartphone performs absurd technical miracles constantly, but the process feels unreachable. Everything important happens inside layers of abstraction owned by companies large enough to function like weather systems.
An ESP32 still feels graspable.
Not simple exactly. But understandable enough that curiosity survives.
You can still mentally model most of the system. The constraints force intimacy. If the device crashes during a WiFi scan, you eventually learn why. If memory allocation fails, you start understanding resource limits instinctively.
Friction creates awareness.
Awareness creates attachment.
That pattern keeps appearing everywhere now. Mechanical keyboards. Amateur radio. Analog synthesizers. Film photography. Cassette culture. People drifting back toward systems that expose process instead of hiding it completely.
Not because old technology was universally better. A lot of older tech was objectively miserable.
But there’s a difference between inconvenience that teaches engagement and convenience that dissolves awareness entirely.
The pocket computer underground sits directly inside that tension.
The Quiet Exhaustion With Platform Dependency
Underneath all of this there’s another emotion driving people toward handheld ESP32 systems.
Dependency fatigue.
Subscription fatigue. Cloud fatigue. Account fatigue. Platform fatigue.
Modern computing increasingly feels rented. Devices arrive sealed physically and philosophically. Even basic functionality often depends on ecosystems users do not control and cannot meaningfully inspect.
ESP32 handheld culture pushes against that instinctively.
Not through dramatic manifestos. Mostly through practical curiosity.
People want devices they can understand well enough to break intentionally. Devices they can flash with weird firmware at 2 AM. Devices small enough to feel like possessions instead of portals into corporate infrastructure.
A homemade handheld terminal with exposed screws and unstable firmware somehow feels more emotionally trustworthy than devices backed by trillion-dollar ecosystems.
That contradiction sounds irrational until you spend enough time around both.
The Community College Electronics Lab Aesthetic
One thing I appreciate about this scene is that it hasn’t fully calcified into polished retro branding yet.
The aesthetics feel accidental.
Not cinematic cyberpunk. Not luxury nostalgia. More like forgotten educational hardware colliding with internet subcultures and sleep deprivation.
Beige plastics. Monochrome OLEDs. Tiny VGA adapters hanging from fragile cables. Interfaces vaguely inspired by PalmOS, graphing calculators, Winamp skins, old router menus, and early Linux desktop environments all at once.
The emotional texture matters.
These devices still feel like they belong to people instead of marketing departments.
One homemade OS I found recently had a battery warning popup that simply said:
“need power juice plz ;-;”
That tiny line carried more personality than most billion-dollar software ecosystems.
Computing Became Interesting Again Through Imperfection
The unfinished feeling is probably the most important part.
Finished ecosystems become stable. Predictable. Locked. Expectations harden around them. Consumers replace participants.
Unfinished systems still invite involvement.
That’s why these tiny ESP32 handhelds feel strangely important right now despite being objectively limited in almost every measurable way. They crash. They overheat. They sometimes require digging through forum threads translated across three languages and archived Discord screenshots just to compile firmware correctly.
But they also restore something modern computing slowly erased.
Discovery.
You can still stumble into weirdness again. Still modify things. Still break things. Still feel the machine resisting you physically.
The computers feel smaller now.
Closer to human scale.
And somewhere inside all the crooked 3D prints, salvaged Blackberry keyboards, unfinished PDA operating systems, and handheld terminals powered by tiny ESP32 boards, people accidentally rediscovered that computing used to feel less like consuming a service and more like participating in a process.
