I remember the day like it was yesterday. Pac Man had finally arrived on the Atari 2600.  It was a clear and sunny day, but it was slightly brisk. My dad drove us down to the video store about three miles from our Michigan house. If I remember correctly, the price for the game was $24.99.  It was quite expensive for the day, probably equaling a $70 game in today’s market, but it was mine. There *was* no question about it. If you purchase a game, it’s your game… right?

You couldn’t be more wrong.  With all the licensing agreements in games today, you only purchase the right to play it. You don’t actually “own” the game. 

Today, game designers want total control over the money that comes in for a game. They add in clauses that keep the game from being resold, rented, borrowed, copied, etc. All of the content in the game, including the items you find that are specifically for you, are owned by the software developer. Why, you ask, do they do this? It’s all about the money.

This need for greed started years ago, when people started modifying current games on the market. One of the first games like this was Doom. There were so many third part mods made, but because of licensing agreement, none of these versions were available for resale. The end user, or you, had to purchase Doom before they could even install the mod.  None of these “modders” were allowed to make any money off their creation.

As someone who works in many facets of the music industry, I used to seethe with a mixture of anger and jealousy when I would hear people in more “traditional” goods-based industries argue in favor of music content-based piracy. They made all the classic talking points, like “I wouldn’t spend money on this artist normally, and maybe if I like it I’ll spend money on them when they come to town” (which never happened), or “artists are rich and I’m poor, they don’t need my money” (rarely the case), or the worst, “if it were fairly priced and worth paying for, I’d buy it” (not true).  I always wondered if they’d have the same attitude if 63% of the things acquired by customers in their industries weren’t actually paid for, as was conservatively estimated as the case for the music industry in 2009 (other estimations put the figure of pirated music at 95%). Well, we may soon see the answer to curiosities like that. Though one can say with tentative confidence that music piracy is on the decline thanks to services like Spotify and Rdio, it could be looming on the horizon for the entire global, physical supply chain. Yes, I’m talking about 3d printers.

Before I get into the heart of this article, let me take a moment to make one thing clear: I think these machines are incredible. It’s damn near inspiring to think of even a few of their potentially world-changing applications: affordable, perfectly fit prosthetic limbs for wounded servicemen and women; the ability to create a piece of machinery on the spot instead of having to wait for a spare to arrive in the mail, or en route if your car or ship breaks down in a far away place; a company based out of Austin, TX even made a fully functioning firearm from a 3d printer a few months ago.

If these machines become as consumer-friendly and idiot-proof as possible (like computers), it’s possible that in a matter of decades (maybe less), a majority of U.S. households will have their own 3d printer. There’s also the possibility they could take the tech-hobbyist path, one that is much less appealing to the masses. Dale Dougherty of Makezine.com estimates there are currently around 100,000 “personal” 3d printers, or those not owned for business or educational purposes. I don’t think they’ll ever be as ubiquitous as computers, but there are plenty of mechanically inclined, crafty hobbyists out there who would love to play around with a 3d printer if it was affordable enough.

That being said, is there reason to worry about the economic implications of consumers making what they want, essentially for free, instead of paying someone else to produce it? Or will the printers instead be used for unique items more so than replicating and ripping off other companies’ merchandise in mass amounts? The number of people working in industries that would be affected by a development like this is far greater than the number of people who work in content-based industries, so any downturn would probably have a much larger economic implications. Certainly, those times are a ways off, but a little foresightedness never hurt anyone!

It’s the eternal conundrum of a hiring manager – you have to hire for every single position in the company without any first-hand experience. How to do it? If you can have a trusted programmer sit in on the interview, that’s ideal, of course. But what if you’re hiring your first programmer? Or what if you’re hiring a freelancer? Or what if company policy dictates that you’re the only person allowed to do the interviewing? Well, in that case, you need some helpful advice and your innate bullshit detector. We questioned programmers and hiring managers and compiled a list of dos and don’ts. Here are some things to ask when interviewing programmers:

Past Experience

Ask the programmer about the biggest disaster of his career so far, and how he handled it. Did he come in at midnight to fix the code? Was he unaware of the problem until someone brought it up? Did someone else handle it?  According to our programmer sources, “Anyone worth their salt has caused a major meltdown. If they say they haven’t, they’re lying. Or very, very green.” Pushing a code with bugs in it isn’t necessarily bad. Not handling it well is bad.

As usual, your biggest asset is not knowing the field, it is knowing people. Asking about career disasters can be uncomfortable, but if the interviewee is experienced and honest then she won’t have a problem telling you about it, and you will get an idea of how she handles mishaps. Even if you don’t understand what the disaster was or how it was fixed, you should be able to tell how honest she’s being and how she handles being put on the spot.