#software eulogies

Celebrations of software and apps that no longer exists / 4 posts

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My name is Marcin Wichary. I’ve worked as a UX designer, typographer, front-end person, and manager at Google, Medium, and Figma. I’ve also written a book about keyboards and typing, gave talks, and published essays about design, typography, and technology.

Unsung is my blog about software craft and quality.

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“If you aim for the king, you better not show up eight years late.”

Something different for today: a one-hour episode of a podcast A Life Well Wasted from 2025. (I can’t link to it directly, but it’s the most recent episode, called “Game Over.”)

It’s a human story whose beats might be familiar to some of you: a long software project that ultimately failed despite the enormous effort. And it did so in an industry – high-budget videogames – where failures might feel particularly brutal: the projects take multiple years but the defeat can be swift, the servers get shut down and the game instantly evaporates, and instead of employees being reallocated to other games, the studio gets disbanded and people let go.

There are some nice moments in the podcast’s interviews with about a dozen people, hearing about personal pride and responsibility, working together with others, and a certain camaraderie not just with other people, but with their software that develops:

I think the best part about it was being able to play with my coworkers and then cutting loose, and being silly, and really enjoying what we made together, as a unit. That experience alone made it worth it.

There are also questions about the management’s role in all of this – this part we might never get to know fully – and the worry about game preservation.

This is not mentioned in the podcast, but it seems widely understood the story is about Concord, a AAA live-service game that is rumored to have cost a staggering $400 million dollars and taken 8 years to develop, only to be shut down mere 12 days after its launch in the late 2024. (AAA means a blockbuster with highest budgets seen by the industry, and live service means a game like Fortnite, which is expected to make money over time from add-ons and upgrades.)

Learning about Concord’s macro view adds a lot of color to the boots-on-the-ground podcast above, but one has to be careful exploring it; the online discourse about the game felt similar to the 2016 reboot of the movie Ghostbusters where sure, the product might have been subpar, but also a lot of commenters seemed eager to arrive to the conversation carrying truckloads of bad faith, gatekeeping, and misogyny.

Some good articles? Keza MacDonald in the Guardian has a nice summary of the whole situation:

This is a brutal sequence of events. Sony bought the makers of Concord, Firewalk Studios, in 2023. Concord had been in development for eight years, and it was an expensive game, with bespoke cinematics and a long-term plan that would have cost $100m or more to develop. In its two weeks on the market, it sold fewer than 25,000 copies, according to estimates. This is a shocker, even compared with the year’s other bad news for developers and studios.

MacDonald also adds:

Speaking personally, I do not want a game that takes years to play. I want one with something to say, an experience to impart, and one that eventually ends. A game whose artistry comes before its business model.

This is partly a matter of taste. Self-evidently, there is an enormous market for live-service multiplayer games; it’s just that most of those people are already playing one. I highly doubt that there are untapped millions of players desperate for a hero shooter or battle royale game who just haven’t found the right one yet. It’s time that publishers try something new instead.

An article by Matt Kim at IGN adds to this notion:

With so many games now taking close to a decade from the beginning of development to release, we’re starting to see the financial and creative consequences of an overlong development cycle. Spend too much time in development and ideas that were once novel are no longer in vogue. Furthermore, the time and money spent over those years has to be recouped somehow, which leads to decisions like the $40 cost of entry for Concord when many of its peers are free to play.

The cost of coming late to the party means you must bring something new to the table. Unfortunately, Concord is neither particularly innovative nor content-heavy. That said, it does have a level of polish at launch that was often absent from its hero shooter peers when they were first released. Indeed, Concord’s weekly animation story drops are fully motion-capture, and Firewalk’s time spent on crafting its lore has helped secure Concord an episode of this winter’s video game animation anthology series, Secret Level.

But well-established hero shooters like EA’s Apex Legends launched almost bare bones and still managed to make a splash thanks to its intriguing central concept which combined hero loadouts with a battle royale match format. Valve’s Deadlock doesn’t even have finalized assets or art but has still caused a huge burst of excitement among the PC community, thanks to the way it changes up the classic 6v6 hero formula with its heavy lane-and-minions MOBA [Multiplayer Online Battle Arena—ed.] mechanics. By contrast Concord appeared with an all-too-familiar offering and, frankly, the time spent on finessing its presentation – the graphics, motion capture, performance, and so on – likely lead to a later release date which in turn meant it lost valuable time establishing itself among its peers. If it had been released four or five years ago, when the PS5 first came out, maybe its launch would have been an entirely different story.

I think this is important to quote on this blog that often talks about “finessing” and implicitly – or sometimes explicitly – about the value of taking time to get the details right. We can’t forget that there are such things as overdesigning and overproducing, and that ultimately there is no way to polish your way out of something that lacks a soul.

“Nothing at all like the bloated app that Dropbox’s Mac client has grown into”

John Gruber at Daring Fireball penned a short eulogy for Maestral:

As of today Maestral continues to work just fine. I don’t know when these certificates are expiring. And I don’t know what I’m going to do when they do.

Dropbox enshittified its app – my friend joked once that Dropbox is a rare example of a company that pivoted away from a product-market fit – and it seems Apple’s API changes didn’t really help, either.

Maestral stepped in to help restore the minimalistic, functional core of Dropbox – I believe Doctorow terms this “disenshittification” – but it was helmed by one person, Sam Schott, who has every right to move on to other things.

“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.

“I’m still grumpy that Apple discontinued it back in 2015”

Daniel Kennett in A Lament For Aperture, The App We’ll Never Get Over Losing (also note an alt title in the URL):

Start spending time in the online photography sphere and you’ll start to notice a small but undeniable undercurrent of lament of its loss to this day. Find an article about Adobe hiking their subscription prices because they added AI for some reason, and amongst the complaining in the comments you’ll invariably find it: “I miss Aperture.”

Kennett goes deep into two specific details: the HUD-like UI that travels to the photo, and the technically impressive loupe. It’s worth checking it out just to reflect on the importance of execution; ostensibly those features exist in Adobe’s Lightroom (Aperture’s main competitor), Photos, etc. But Aperture designed them in particularly memorable and impressive ways.

Back in the early 2010s I used Aperture, too. I was rooting for it. I felt like it was designed, and Lightroom merely existed.

It reminded me of the 1990s when I felt the same about Netscape 4 over Internet Explorer 4. There was something about Netscape’s feel that appealed to me more. The way buttons were designed. The way they responded to clicks. The way pages loaded. All these little nuances. This was perhaps the first time I appreciated one app over another for things I didn’t know how to measure, or perhaps even describe.

Aperture vs. Lightroom feels like a similar story, because for all my appreciation for Aperture, I remember it being slower than Lightroom, and the noise reduction (much more important 10+ years ago) was worse, too. In a small way, it was a relief that Aperture was discontinued, because it saved me from a tricky choice: better designed vs. technically superior.

But: I miss Aperture, also. Maybe it would’ve caught up technically today and it would’ve been the best of both worlds. To this day, I use Lightroom (now Lightroom Classic). If it’s filled with UI quirks, it’s mostly bad ones. If there is beauty in it, I no longer know how to see it. It’s a tool in the most reductive sense of the word. My photos deserve more.

Also something I learned from Kennett:

“Shoebox” apps are apps that contain the content you use with them, as opposed to document-based apps which work with content you manage as a user. It’s an extremely common design nowadays, but less so back then — early pioneers of the shoebox app were iPhoto, iMovie, etc.