Finder’s elite eliding

I know I’m usually driving the Finder pretty hard, but I think that’s a necessity, given its position as the center of macOS for power users, and its situation where it feels like Apple pretty much gave up on it.

But I also want to show things that Finder does well, and this might be something no one does nearly as thoughtfully: text truncation.

This is what happens when you have a filename that’s too long:

This is really nicely done, for many reasons that work in lockstep:

  • Finder cleverly elides text from the middle, knowing that both the ending of the last words (or digits!) of the file name, and its extension are important.
  • Finder shows the full name in a tooltip. I’m surprised how many tools forget to do that, offering no easy explanation for the missing letters. Here are some examples from Notion and Bear, neither of which offers help on hover:
  • Finder position the tooltip exactly atop the existing text. I think this is really clever: it avoids overlapping other useful information, and makes it faster to reorient yourself. Compare with, for example, AirTable:
  • Lastly, Finder only shows the tooltip when it’s needed. This is something where so many places lose their way. For example, here’s Paper and Google Drive, throwing up a tooltip indiscriminately, even if it has absolutely nothing to add to the conversation:

Why does this last thing matter? Because unnecessary tooltips are distracting, cover information, and also – maybe most importantly – turn the interface into a minefield where no safe places remain to just mindlessly rest your cursor without worry.

This last thing is very fuzzy, but so important. You know how unpleasant a lot of articles are on the web these days, solely because you’re always on the edge about what’s going to happen while you read? Am I going to be moved up and down? When and where is the ad going to appear? When will I encounter a new subscription pop-up, and what will be the weird way to close it this time around?

I know you don’t literally tense your muscles while reading those, but I feel like in some sense, in the back of your head, there is always this unpleasant worry that you’re dealing with an unstable interface.

This is not as strong, but I feel a similar way about unnecessary tooltips; they make interfaces feel less stable. You rest your cursor, something jumps up at you, you get distracted and move your cursor instinctively to avoid it, and with any luck, you trigger yet another tooltip, and so on.

I will write more about this in the future. If you asked my former coworkers, I bet a significant portion would say “this guy gets angry at tooltips, like, all the time.” I promise I will get angry at tooltips more here. But today? Today, kudos to the Finder. It shows us that if you care, you can make this small moment feel really great and thoughtful – knowing that small moments multiplied in the thousands are no longer small.

Make the logo^H​^H​^H​^H​^H​^H​^H​^H​something bigger

Speaking of breaking search, an absolutely horrendous design decision I just spotted when using Bing Search:

Yep, you saw this correctly: as you scroll, the ads (already pretty much masquerading as regular search results) actually get bigger to grab your attention.

Jesus.

I don’t know why I was reminded of this fav Twitter joke:

On a more serious note, I was also reminded of this.

“That’s a big number – by almost any scale other than Google’s.”

Thirteen years ago today, Google killed Google Reader. In 2023, The Verge wrote a great piece about the shutdown:

Google’s feed-reading tool offered a powerful way to curate and read the internet and was beloved by its users. Reader launched in 2005, right as the blogging era went mainstream; it made a suddenly huge and sprawling web feel small and accessible and helped a generation of news obsessives and super-commenters feel like they weren’t missing anything. It wasn’t Google’s most popular app, not by a long shot, but it was one of its most beloved.

In the essay, Google Reader is presented as a victim of Google+. I was at Google when Google+ was announced and can corroborate the feeling of an end of an era at the company. The first large internal presentation was a shell shock: the arrival of secrecy, bureaucracy, corporate delusion, inevitable sycophants following not-so-inevitable bozos. But perhaps it was the opposite – Google as a company would have changed anyway, and Reader just randomly ended up being among the early beloved things that stood in the way. (I mean, arguably, Google changing for the worse destroyed even Google Search since.)

I am worried about the open web, but excited seeing some resurgence in RSS usage, and more and more people wanting to come back to the feeling of control, care, and intentionality that using Reader represented. Just a few months ago, Roger Wong found himself reflecting on Reader, too:

What gets me is that the vision Wetherell drew on that whiteboard—a single place to follow everything you care about, organized by your taste, shared with people you trust, and non-algorithmic—still doesn’t fully exist. RSS readers are the closest thing we have, and they’re good enough that I’ve built my entire reading and writing practice around one. But the curation layer Wetherell imagined is still unfinished.

I’m introducing a new tag to Unsung, software eulogies, which right now encompasses Aperture and Reader.

One has to be careful about nostalgia since it has its own gravity and can corrupt as much as a runaway World of WarCraft virus. “They don’t make them like they used to” is a potent drug that can make us disinvested in shaping the future, but it is also true that, well, we don’t make software like we used to. Part of Unsung is about finding inspiration in history, and while each one of us can miss a certain era of computing, certain machines, and certain software for whatever reasons we choose to – healthy or not – I do believe we collectively miss Aperture and Reader for the right reasons that are worth listening to.

“No one knows who patient zero was.”

If you stepped into the dwarven capital of Ironforge on September 13, 2005, you would find only bones. Lots of bones. The city, along with every other major population center in World of Warcraft, had been ravaged by a plague that slaughtered players by the thousands, their bleached bones covering every street.

This is the beginning of the retelling of one of the most infamous bugs in videogame history, written by Steven Messner in 2019. It’s a surprisingly thrilling read.

The TL; DR of the whole issue is that during a specific special event in World of Warcraft featured a big bad boss who actually stole blood off of players to replenish his own health. The fun narrative idea was that players were meant to infect themselves with a virus called Corrupted Blood, to trick the supervillain into getting infected, too.

Things worked well except… the virus escaped containment.

“The corrupted blood was an effect and the designers forgot to clear it off your pet, so if your pet got despawned while it was in the encounter, it would save your pet with corrupted blood on it. The next time you summoned your pet there was no code to go «Oh you’re not in the raid, we should get rid of the corrupted blood.»”

If this reminds you of something, yeah, RuneScape had a similar incident a few months later in 2006. Here, it was also similarly tricky for the developers to figure out how to restore order:

“Our choices were either to go through every pet in every server in every country in the entire world and check if it had corrupted blood and get rid of it, or get really hacky code in where every time you summoned a pet it would check and see if it had corrupted blood on it and get rid of it.” […] Despite numerous hotfixes, it was nearly a month until Blizzard fixed the problem completely by making it impossible for pets to contract the disease.

The disaster had a few interesting codas. The first one was that World of WarCraft and other games eventually started occasionally introducing an epidemic – now 100% intentional – as special events in their games.

The second one? The accidental in-game event helped researchers understand actual real-life epidemics. As summarized on Wikipedia:

Of particular interest to researchers in the use of MMORPGs for epidemiology is that character responses to a virtual pandemic are the result of individual player reactions, adding “a level of authenticity that doesn’t exist in other simulations”. Disease researchers typically study disease spread and control through the use of three general models, all of which make significant assumptions about human behavior. As behavior is difficult to predict, the effectiveness of these models is limited.

“The evilest will-breaking browser game to exist.”

In 2023, Neal Agarwal created The Password Game, a viral browser-based game. Wikipedia has a nice summary:

Although the initial requirements include setting a minimum of characters or including numbers, uppercase letters, or special characters, the rules gradually become more unusual and complex. These can involve managing having Roman numerals in the string to multiply, adding the name of a country that players have to guess from random Google Street View imagery (as a reference to GeoGuessr), inserting the day’s Wordle answer, typing the best move in a generated chess position using algebraic notation, inserting the URL of a YouTube video of a randomly generated length, and adjusting boldface, italics, font types, and text sizes.

The explanation goes on for another paragraph, but I don’t want to spoil too many surprises. However, if you’re not a puzzle kind of person, you can just watch a 40-minute video of Bog trying to beat it:

Last year, Agarwal followed The Password Game with I’m Not A Robot game, making fun of similarly onerous CAPTCHA requirements. Here’s Bog completing it once again – and you can also find other YouTube creators doing the same for both games:

In the same category, a game designer Linternet User just launched a teaser for their game CAPTCHA Hell, which has a different take and looks fun:

I need to add that underlying all of this “fun” is not just tons of frustration with passwords and CAPTCHAs, but also a genuine accessibility problem, as described by Robin Christopherson in 2019 in an article titled AI is making CAPTCHA increasingly cruel for disabled users, or by A11y Collective a few years later. I don’t know what is the absolute latest in the battle with AI bots; anecdotally, I have been seeing almost zero text CAPTCHAs and less visual CAPTCHAs, at the expense of more and more CloudFlare turnstiles (and Google’s equivalent), which make you only click the button, and do a lot of work under the hood to determine if that button press felt human-y or robot-y:

These challenges include proof-of-work (computational puzzles), proof-of-space, probing for web APIs, and various other challenges for detecting browser-quirks and human behavior. As a result, we can fine-tune the difficulty of the challenge to the specific request and avoid showing a visual or interactive puzzle to a user.

There is no more explanation. I think the nature of the beast is that the actual details of how to tell one group from another cannot be shared, which is a shame – I’m very curious.

“Invalid-reverse-solidus validation error”

In my three decades online, it has never occurred for me to try this, and I found it so delightful once I did – both Chrome and Firefox will quietly rewrite backslashes in URLs into slashes:

Not Safari, however, even though the URL living standard says it should.

I am very curious if the presence of backslashes in URLs is owing to Windows still showing backslashes in file paths, or just because people casually don’t see any difference between / and \, which are arguably both similar, and relatively alien in everyday typography. (“Solidus” is the proper typograpical name for this kind of a slash, partly to disambiguate it from all the other slashes with their equally fascinating names.)

Mailbag: The curious case of the disappearing Polish S

Even before the “remaster,” my essay about the Polish S bug was routinely discovered by Hacker News and other places, so I thought I would take a look at all the commentary over the years and summarize.

First, pragmatically, these are the lessons for any keyboard shortcut designer:

  • On Windows, AltGr (Right Alt) and Ctrl+Alt shortcuts are one and the same, and Right Alt and alphabetic keys are used for some languages to output regular accented letters. You should not prioritize Ctrl+Alt shortcuts anywhere your users write text.
  • On a Mac, ⌥ and most keys generate characters. They do so even on English layout for extra typographical flair, but particularly in other languages, regular accented letters might hide there. Note that these are not just letter keys, but also digits and other keys. You should not prioritize ⌥ shortcuts anywhere your users write text.

I couldn’t find a good image, so I made these two as an example. First is Mac’s American keyboard with ⌥ held. Second is Polish keyboard with ⌥ held, with Polish letters highlighted:

Jumping to the promised comments, I liked this story:

Outlook has a shortcut Alt+S to send the current e-mail. In Polish “Hello” is “Cześć”. When you acidentally have non-Polish locale enabled and write “Cześć” in Outlook - you send “Cze” as your whole e-mail.

“Cze” is a very informal greeting, sth like “Yo”. There has been thousands of such e-mails in Polish companies sent to people who really shouldn’t be greeted with “Yo.” :)

Here’s a little summary of other similar bugs. I verified some of them:

  • “Oh, that explains why I accidentally triggered Claude with Alt+Space, despite it being configured as Ctrl+Alt+Space.” Link
  • “Noticed similar issues with official Australian VISA / immigration pages. You can’t simply fill some forms with your email address using Finnish keyboard. Why? Because they block usage of AltGr button on their page. They also prevent using clipboard blocking copy paste option for that sign. User has to be smart enough to switch to US keyboard and then enter @ sign and then switch back. So this is nothing new, but it’s absolutely rude from part of the site designers to vandalize basic functionality like that. Normally @ is produced by AltGr+2.” Link
  • “In a similar fashion, you cannot type the capital letter Ł in Notion. You type the letter with ⇧⌥L on the Polish keyboard on a Mac. Notion uses the ⇧⌥L keyboard combo for its own purposes.” Link
  • “Medium learnt its lesson in 2015. Google still hasn’t and you cannot type Ś in Sheets, at least not on MacOS.” Link
  • “Meanwhile, in 2026 I suddenly cannot type capital Ś in Edge on Mac. I feel like I moved back in time 25 years or so.” Link
  • “I wonder if it is a similar reason why currently on MS Teams I can’t type the letter ń.” Link
  • “It’s just like the new Copilot 365. Every time I try to type Ć, Copilot pops up. I have to close the app constantly.” Link
  • “I had a similar issue when ASUS’s bloatware background service decided to bind something to both Alt+S and Alt+A globally. I have to keep it disabled or else I won’t be able to type ą, Ą, ś and Ś without using Caps Lock to work around the issue.” Link
  • “In an Nvidia overlay there is a shortcut Alt+Z. It’s pretty annoying because it triggers on both left and right Alt, so polish users cannot type letter ż without opening the overlay or rebinding it. Nvidia pls fix.” Link
  • “The very same bug used to be present in early Windows mobile GPU drivers - with global hotkeys making it impossible to enter Ł (with Intel GMA 950) and Ć (with ATI Catalyst). Being a Polish geek, I used to earn lots of free dinners from frustrated friends who were forced to copy-paste those letters on their brand new laptops. Funny how the same bug recurs in different types of software due to an obscure locale-dependent edge case - and it’s much less known than, for example, the Turkish dotted/​dotless I.” Link
  • “Installing KeePass used to silently disable ”ą” key (AltGr+A hotkey). KeePass broke system of every Polish user immediately after being installed.” Link

I’m sharing this for awareness. I believe many other languages/​writing systems also have this problem; the examples are lopsided toward Polish only because my original example was about Polish.

Lastly, I found this an interesting anecdote:

In Portugal we had a similar workaround in the early days of computers not supporting our alphabet properly. Like in Polish there are plenty of words that without diacritics get another completely unrelated meaning, e.g. caça vs caca, which you didn’t want the interpretation to be left to the receiver.

So tricks got invented, like adding additional letters for the missing diacritics, é becomes eh, è becomes he or eh as in the former case, the example above would be cac,a and so on. However it was still quite flexible, not everyone uses the same extension set.

I wouldn’t be surprised if every single language outside of English developed some sort of a way to cope and adjust to limitations of originally American-oriented computers. In my book, I wrote about Japanese and Turkish, and there is another book – The Chinese Typewriter – that spends a lot of time talking about this very issue for China.

If this subject is particularly interesting to you, venture out into the Hacker News waters to see more commentary: 2015, 2021, 2024, 2026.

¿Por qué no los dos? pt. 1

I praised ⌘⇥ recently in my essay for cleverly not showing itself when you press the keys really fast.

Here’s another nice detail. If you press and hold ⌘⇥, you will eventually stop at the end. (You can then press ⌘⇧⇥ or ⌘` to go in the other direction.)

However, if you are already at the end, pressing ⌘⇥ again wraps around to the beginning:

The issue of whether to wrap around or not is more universal; you can see it in many lists, ⌘F, and so on. On one hand, it’s nice to have a solid deterministic stopping end that you can rely on, especially since sometimes the last item on the list is special (“See more items…”). On the other hand, going all the way back from the end can be frustrating, too, especially on a Mac that does really strange things with Home/End/PgUp/​PgDn keys.

I thought the hybrid approach that ⌘⇥ is doing here was clever, and might be applicable elsewhere.

“Felt a bit like sorcery.”

For decades now, Raymond Chen has been posting to his blog The Old New Thing about various technical Microsoft quirks, occasionally venturing into Unsung territory. Last week, Chen shared a nice remembrance of Tony Krueger, a person responsible for implementing the red squiggly underlines in Word:

Tony worked on Word 1.0, 1.1, 2.0, then on Word for OS/2 and Word for Mac, then returned to Word 6.0 and several versions beyond that. He probably holds the record for “most versions of Word shipped.” […]

Tony made the spell checker much more unobtrusive so that it didn’t interfere with your foreground work. And when it found a problem, instead of waiting for you to trigger a spell check, it immediately drew red squiggles under potentially-misspelled words (and later green squiggles under potential grammatical errors). […]

Today, there are red (and even green and blue) squiggles in nearly every word processor, and often outside word processors. Tony did it first. The next time a red squiggle catches one of your mistakes, say thanks to Tony. I think he’d appreciate it.

Read on for some fun celebrity encounters, and even a touching comment from Krueger’s father. Another person adds that a “PM named Diana” and another Microsoft employee, Jim Walsh, might have been the people who designed the feature.

Chen doesn’t name it specifically, but it’s my understanding that the red underlines were named Spell It (meh), and appeared in Office 95 in 1995. Steven Sinofsky confirms it on his blog, adding “The red squiggles were simply reflective of a proofreader’s style of mark (also one of the early uses of color in the interface).”

As far as I can tell by looking at various screenshots and photos of boxes, the feature wasn’t advertised at all. It was only mentioned more explicitly a few years later in Office 97:

“Icons that are iconic”

Apple might have undone the macOS Tahoe menu icons decision, but this wasn’t the only contentious iconography issue in their ecosystem.

On his blog, Jim Nielsen writes how Apple filed away so much expression by forcing rigid icon bureaucracy in macOS. Nielsen focuses mostly on distinctiveness; previously, you could make the icon unique by its general shape or the shape of its contents, but one of these two levers has now been taken away:

This over-emphasis on “systems” design seems endemic to modern software. Systems prescribe rules because they are the easiest attributes to document, enforce, and automate — “All icons must use this shape, this lighting, this stroke.” Excellence, by contrast, is harder to systematize. It requires judgment, taste, care, experience, and a sensitivity to context — all in service of meaning and purpose, not superficial similarity.

However, one also can’t help but notice how ugly and amateurish the Creator Studio icons are, so it all feels absolutely like a net negative – the new system took something away and the proposed replacement feels low quality:

Elsewhere, on Rogue Amoeba’s blog, Paul Kafasis straight up asks Apple to undo the 2025 decision to contain macOS icons inside squircles:

Apple’s prohibition on shapes is a step backward for both usability and creativity in app icons. Icons are now harder to distinguish because they’re no longer allowed to be distinctive. But there’s no technical reason for it. Apple could, and should, once again allow icons to take on a wide variety of shapes.

Both these prompted me to think a bit of Apple’s app iconography as a system.

Let’s start with iOS:

  • I believe the rigid squircle shape of app icons starting with the first iPhone was to make them look like a grid of buttons, and also to establish apps as a new primitive, particularly with the subsequent arrival of the App Store. (Similarly how over time “a face in a circle” became recognizable as a “personal avatar,” a user proxy primitive.)
  • Soon, the rigid shape also helped when custom Springboard wallpapers arrived in 2010 – it reduced the likelihood of apps blending with the background.
  • Recently, a new option has been added to remove names of apps, which is another way to disambiguate them.
  • Also recently, Apple’s generally unpleasant-looking theming options (color tinting and glassification) reduced color coding as a way to recognize a particular icon.

At the same time, iOS is still highly spatial. Most apps have a specific physical place on a specific page of the Springboard, or inside a specific folder. I believe that this helps a lot even if shape coding, color coding, and name disambiguation are failing or turned off to begin with.

Now, for MacOS:

  • The original Mac OS X followed in the footsteps of the classic Mac OS and allowed arbitrary shapes, allowing for more flexible shape coding, although with some guidance on angles and styling:
  • However, more recently, the iOS squircle shape has been first strongly suggested (in 2020) and then rigidly enforced (in 2025) for macOS as well.

But then, the usage of app icons in macOS is different than in iOS.

First of all, macOS isn’t nearly as spatial as it used to be, and I would say not as spatial as iOS. Even Dock is more malleable compared to the memory palace rigidity of the Springboard, and its overflow section with suggestions and hand-off is very fluid. ⌘Tab is completely non-spatial and just like the Dock doesn’t upfront identify apps by their names. App icons also appear in more fluid contexts like Spotlight, Finder, and the right side of the menubar (I know iOS has some of those as well, but I would imagine they’re getting much less use overall). This all increases the pressure on icons to be easily distinguishable.

At the same time, there are fewer issues with custom backgrounds on macOS. Most icon surfaces have opaque backgrounds and while you can keep your apps on the desktop or put backgrounds in Finder windows, I don’t think that’s very common.

I’m probably missing some other aspects, but this would be my summary of where we’re at:

  • Apple has not done a good job shepherding their app iconography system. The system feels too rigid, and some of its ostensible benefits (dark mode, color tinting, glassification) have been executed poorly. You could imagine a better tinting system that doesn’t feel like a cheap CSS filter applied to the icon, or (my dream!) a way to tint individual app icons. I personally love when apps – here Raindrop, Bear, and Retro – give you a lot of icon options in various colors, so I can invest in color coding:
  • People’s trust in Apple’s skillset has deteriorated after the unveiling of horrendous icon redesigns in 2025’s Tahoe, and more recently in the abovementioned Creator Studio (the 2026 updates are nice, but very minor). This is in some contrast with other controversial visually-motivated changes appearing at the same time. Say what you want about Liquid Glass, but there are moments it looks absolutely gorgeous (see the video below for perhaps my favourite Liquid Glass surface). Forced menu icons felt similar: embarrassingly naïve as a system, but with icons themselves executed well (which you can still appreciate when perusing SF Symbols). But the app icon changes seem to have been assigned to the team that delivered on neither good visual craft, nor good systems thinking.
  • I think it’s fair to look at Creator Studio specifically, and fear Apple is following in Microsoft’s and especially Adobe’s unforgivable footsteps in prioritizing abstract corporate identity goals over both functional and visual aspects of app iconography. Adobe’s product icons used to be beautiful and distinct before they got all shoved into the same “uppercase + lowercase letter” framework that became a canonical example of a system that took something away from the user but didn’t really give anything in return:
  • I also feel this feeds right into another fear of Apple’s actions steamrolling over particularly indie app developers where being able to express one’s identity via the app icon feels much more important than it would be for a huge company.
  • I don’t see Apple abandoning their stance on the rigid, distinctive app icon squircle shape. It’s possible that iOS apps will start appearing on touchscreen Macs outside of screen mirroring. Even without that, it just simplifies things for them, even if the jobs for macOS app icons are not the same as those for iOS app icons.
  • At the same time, I could see Apple allowing the app icons to stick out of the basic squircle shape, like some macOS apps did in between 2020 and 2025; I believe it would even be possible to detect programmatically if the basic squircle shape is still there in the background. This would improve shape coding, and give icon designers some clearly much-desired flexibility. The icons below still register as squircles to me – why not allow this as an option? (For both macOS and iOS.)
  • I wish Apple standardized app icon changing UI on iOS. Right now, each app offers their own interface in a different place – you could see that above – and rarely links to that place from the Springboard’s long-press menu. But imagine if you could nicely change app icons in situ in the same flow when you’re customizing the Springboard itself! (And then, the same for Dock and macOS.)
  • I think it would also be a nice gesture to allow to rename iOS Springboard apps to whatever you want the same way you can rename folders, to give some users an opportunity to disambiguate by that if everything else fails.

The curious case of the disappearing Polish S

Speaking of remastering (and diacritics), I grabbed my older Medium deep dive called The curious case of the disappearing Polish S, and put it on the new site.

It looks so much better than on Medium and while I was at it, I’ve redone all the visuals, and updated it a little bit.)

It’s still probably one of my favourite bugs to encounter. I hope you enjoy!

Noise as information and information as noise

In 1982, the videogame Yars’ Revenge for the Atari 2600 needed to show a “neutral zone” in the middle of the screen. The console was so primitive – an entire great book was written about this – that it didn’t have any video memory. Any cheap effect would do, even random noise… but something as simple as generating noise was also too much for the underpowered system. So the creator of the game decided to do something that in any other situation would mean at the very least trouble, if not a downright security disaster. He crossed the wires and output on screen… the game’s own source code:

The source code looked noisy enough, and the problem was solved. (Somewhat recently, Retro Game Mechanics Explained analyzed it carefully in this YouTube video, to make sure it’s not just a myth.)

A similar approach was used in a Nintendo GameCube game Metroid Prime, at a moment when the protagonist’s visor needed to appear disrupted. It was two decades later, but the team still bounced off of hardware limitations, this time around memory:

The GameCube only has 24MB of RAM, so every texture has to be carefully considered. If we used a low resolution texture (64x64) to save memory the “static” would be blurry and not crisp. One engineer on the team came up with a great idea: what if we just use the memory holding the Metroid Prime code itself! We quickly tried it out and it looked amazing. When you see Samus’s visor affected by electrical “noise” in game, you’re actually seeing the bits and bytes of the Metroid Prime software code itself being rendered on the screen. Turns out machine code is sufficiently random to work great as a static noise texture!

This is how it looked:

A few years later, in 2008, people working on Xbox 360 were testing a new interface for their entire console. It was called NXE – New Xbox Experience – and in the bottom-right corner it showed delightful ripples:

…or, not just delightful. While NXE was tested internally, the ripples actually encoded the serial number of the console, to prevent leaks. Apparently, it was built specifically so that Microsoft only needed just two images to find out the entire serial number.

A less surreptitious version of this idea exists today – for example, setting up a new Apple Watch shows a pretty pattern…

…that also happens to encode enough information to identify the specific one watch. It really appears to be nothing more than an obfuscated QR Code, and “boy, have they patented it.”

I know concealing a message inside another message is called steganography. I don’t think all of these fall under that umbrella, and I don’t even know all the above can be called “hacks.” I just thought they were interesting examples of information masquerading as noise, and noise pretending to be information.