Installing OS/2 on a PS/2 Model 80: 5000 Subscriber Special

Hi, I’m Dan. You may remember this PS/2 Model 80 from such videos as the IBM 386 Tower of Power. Back in January I threatened you with the good time of installing OS/2 on this beast, and today’s your lucky day. Here, In Userlandia, we’re getting warped.

OS/2. Other than some hands-on time at vintage computer festivals in the past few years I’m a complete noob when it comes to the quote “Better Windows than Windows.” I never saw a live Warp 3 system during the Nineties, and I touched Warp 4 once or twice in the Aughts. But I do have a fascination with operating systems and how we interface with computers. And when I found this Ten Minute Guide to OS/2 Warp at the thrift store a few weeks ago it reminded me that yes, I promised you an installation of OS/2 on this mighty Model 80. And I’m a nerd of their word, so let’s cash in that IOU and take this machine to Warp.

Today I’ll be installing OS/2 Warp 3 Connect Blue Spine with the OS/2 Bonus Pack. Sorry to disappoint anyone who wanted to see me swap forty-plus floppies—I’m not that much of a masochist to risk one bad floppy torpedoing the entire install. What sets the Blue Spine edition apart from this boxed Red Spine edition is that Blue Spine comes with Windows 3.1. Red Spine was pitched to users who already owned Windows, and ergo save IBM and that customer the cost of a Windows license. Using a Blue Spine CD-ROM will save me from finagling more floppies, and Connect includes local area networking. I’ll also need to apply Fixpacks at some point, but I’m leaving that for another day.

Returning viewers might recall that this Model 80’s equipped with a 90MB hard disk and no CD-ROM drive. Instead of messing around with other disks and drives I’m using a BlueSCSI to emulate a hard disk and CD-ROM. This requires booting from the reference disk and sitting through minutes of clunks and chirps while it auto-configures. But my patience was rewarded as it successfully identified the new drives. Huzzah! Next, installing from CD requires booting up from a pair of floppies. After I chose my desired installation type—I’m an advanced user, and I need an advanced installation—the installer partitioned the hard drive image and forced the first of many restarts.

Another reason to choose Advanced Install is to set up IBM’s Boot Manager, which lets you boot multiple operating systems from various drives or partitions. It’s fairly robust and easy to use boot loader for the era, You can also pick the file system for your hard drive: MS-DOS FAT or OS/2’s High Performance File System. HPFS provides nice features like long filenames and large volume support, so I’ll choose HPFS.

I’ve got some time to kill while the installer installs, so let’s chat about OS/2. What I won’t be doing is an exhaustive history of OS/2 in this video. If you’re interested in good modern takes on OS/2’s turbulent history you should check out the excellent retrospectives by Another Boring Topic and RetroBytes. This is more about exploring what it’s like to run OS/2 on a 386. I missed out on OS/2 back in the day, mostly because Microsoft and Apple consumed so much air during the mid-Nineties in the US. When I started reading mainstream computer mags in 1995 the hype train for Windows 95 was full steam ahead. I saw OS/2 ads in PC/Computing but the actual editorial content barely discussed it. A three-way comparison between OS/2 Warp, Windows 95, and Windows 3.11 in the August 95 issue was about the most exposure I got to Warp’s headline features.

What little I read about OS/2 was more than I’d seen in person. OS/2 was completely absent from my schools, even in the tech labs that ran powerful software like CAD programs. I grew up in Digital country, where we used DEC terminals to search library card catalogs that ran on VMS. Accessing email at school required telnetting into a UNIX shell to run Pine. Maybe the ATMs for our local banks used OS/2, but I never knew for sure. Then again, I had the same lack of experience with other OSes like NextStep, Solaris or IRIX.

So far the installation is going well, which wasn’t always the case. Warp’s installer was a major improvement over 2.0’s, but I’ve still seen several sorrowful stories of setups gone awry. To be fair, installing on a PS/2 is basically doing this on easy mode. Users on clone systems might not be so lucky depending on their BIOS and cards. Straying outside of IBM’s hardware garden in early versions of OS/2 was a path to pain, although it did get better in Warp 3 and 4 because each version included more drivers. I don’t think Warp completely shook OS/2’s reputation for brittle installers, but I’d love to hear the tales of your installation successes or failures.

Let’s check back in on the installer. The first phase is nearly complete, and after a reboot it’ll boot from the hard drive to start the second phase. This is where I learned a quirk about the MCA Tribble SCSI adapters—apparently they can only boot from drives that are less than a gigabyte. This and other imitations can be lifted if you swap in newer ROMs from a Spock adapter. I mention this because I originally started with a 1GB disk image and found myself stuck at a blinking cursor after the first phase completed. I was more successful after switching to an 800MB disk image and re-running the installer.

At the start of phase two I’m asked to confirm hardware devices like graphics, sound, printers, and ports. Once again installing on a PS/2 made things easy—it’s all detected and ready to go. The next step is selecting OS/2 software components, and I’ll select them all for a complete install. Lastly, since I’m installing Connect I must choose my networking stacks. Might as well YOLO and install them all! Interestingly, it didn’t auto-detect my Western Digital ethernet card even though it’s configured in the PS/2 BIOS. I thought I’d have to load a driver from a floppy, but after a quick Google I learned that the bundled Standard Microsystems EtherPlus MCA driver was compatible. I selected it and the installer carried on.

While phase 2 continues let’s investigate what’s inside an OS/2 Warp box. This Red Spine edition—along with most of the boxed operating systems and office suites you see on my shelves—was part of a software collection I acquired from somebody decluttering their garage. As far as I can tell this is a complete copy that’s never been used. The top layer of this box cake is a sub-package for the OS/2 Bonus Pack. Inside is a license agreement, a thin guidebook, and an old disclaimer scroll warning you about the dangers of the internet. After thumbing through the inserts you’re left with sixteen floppy disks, which is almost as many as the OS itself. I don’t envy whoever drew the short straw to babysit floppy installs back in the day. I’ll babysit a CD-ROM Bonus Pack instead.

Next is a 400 page-plus OS/2 Warp User’s Guide. Printed in glorious black, white, and Pantone 286 blue, it explains the basics of installing and using OS/2. It’s pretty thorough, with multiple chapters on troubleshooting and fixing compatibility problems. OS/2 Warp included an interactive tutorial, so you might not need most of the getting started part of the manual, but it’s there in case you’d like some light evening reading.

If that’s not enough reading material, then check out the Fall/Winter 1994 edition of IBM Sources and Solutions. This tome cataloged OS/2 compatible hardware and software along with qualified vendors and consultants. Some fun IBM ads are sprinkled throughout, but the most entertaining bit was finding all the defunct stores and consultants in my area. RIP to Egghead and Software Etcetera. And I have to call out the copy editor for letting misspellings of Worcester, Massachusetts escape their red pen. For shame, for shame!

It wouldn’t be a software box without registration and support cards. The OS/2 registration card is pretty straightforward—fill out the fields and and drop it into a mailbox to tell Big Brother… er, Big Blue all of your demographic info and usage habits. You can rest easy knowing that you’ve sold your personal data to a major corporation for absolutely nothing in return. There’s also a technical support card entitling you to sixty days of telephone support starting from your first call. I dialed the 800 number just for laughs and it goes to what I presume is a scam to get seniors to sign up for a knockoff Life Alert device. Bummer.

IBM also saw fit to include ads for several third party software products. Golden ComPass is an assistant for CompuServe that downloads emails, news, forum posts, and so on for offline consumption. Computer Associates’s CA-Realizer is a graphical BASIC development environment. Watcom VX-REXX is another visual development tool, this time for IBM’s REXX scripting language. And Adobe wanted you to buy some fun font packs to leverage OS/2s built-in Adobe Type Manager. $80 for 64 fonts doesn’t sound too bad for the time, though I’d classify most of these typefaces as gimmicks.

Lastly, there’s the requisite legal paperwork and last-minute technical bulletins. The license agreement isn’t as interesting as this warning about XDF-formatted diskettes, or a tip sheet for installing OS/2 on top of an existing Windows setup. But the most fascinating one is this folded sheet asking you to call IBM if you’re installing OS/2 on an IBM Aptiva. Based on the Aptiva’s launch date my hunch is these boxed copies might be missing some necessary drivers.

After digging through all this paperwork we’ve reached the treasure hidden at the bottom of this beastly box: a cache of 21 floppy disks. For those keeping score, that’s eight more than the retail RTM version of Windows 95 and one fewer than Windows NT 3.1. And that number’s actually lower than it could be thanks to XDF formatted floppies cramming 1.86MB of data onto standard 1.44MB high density disks. Combining these floppies with the bonus pack makes for a whopping 37 disks, and a Blue Spine box would have even more for Windows support.

With the lengthy phase two finally complete, we’re on to the even lengthier third and final phase: OS/2 Warp Connect. It gets its own special installation display and partway through it switched to a video mode that none of my LCDs liked. I had to dig out a CRT to track its progress, and whatever mode it used was more unfilmable than usual. So in lieu of that, there’ll be some Bonus Pack installation footage instead. Check out that happy little PC!

And while that installs, this wouldn’t be a 5,000 subscriber special without a 5,000 subscriber special channel update. I’m humbled by the positive reception to my videos, and I genuinely appreciate the time you spend watching, discussing, and sharing my work. I resisted YouTube for a long time because I’ve always had a rocky relationship with recording and editing video. That’s a bit ironic considering that in 2007 it was Slowbeef, Maxwell Adams, and yours truly who respectively made the first, second, and third video Let’s Plays on the SomethingAwful forums. I hung around as one of the original LP superstars until I bowed out around 2012 to concentrate on my convention artist alley tables.

I’ve been writing about computers here and there for almost twenty years, though most of that material has vanished after various websites went offline. If you’ve been listening since the Icon Garden days you might remember my solo Macinography podcasts, some of which might be adapted into future videos. Although my style’s changed a bit since then, what I launched as Userlandia in 2021 is broadly similar to that work. But after a year and change of Userlandia not getting much traction as a blog/podcast I conceded to the reality that the audience for what I’m doing is on YouTube.

I made the switch to video with what amounted to a glorified slideshow for the 2022 VCF Midwest podcast. It was also my first time using DaVinci Resolve. My prior video editing experience was with Camtasia or iMovie, and the one time I tried Premiere didn’t leave me with a good impression. But I picked up Resolve pretty quickly—as it turns out my skills as an audio editor translate pretty well to editing video. But as time went on I realized I needed to take my production to the next level and record actual footage. Thus began my crash course in motion picture filming. My video quality has improved compared to my early attempts, but I’ve still got a ways to go.

Most of my work starts with a script. For something like a Computers of Significant History video I start by researching a subject, taking notes, and writing an outline. Scriptwriting can take weeks, depending on the complexity of the subject and whether I need to run things by an editor friend for a double-check. Once I’m happy with a script I record and edit audio, which takes around three to four hours for a half-hour track. Then I compile a shot list to figure out what needs to be filmed and what gaps can be filled with stills, clips, or gag reels. My camera moves are fairly basic—pans, tilts, slides, zooms, and focus pulls. All the footage and resources are cut together to form a video, and then I polish it up with some background music. This process is largely the same for my trip report videos, except the footage is recorded before scriptwriting. And this video is a bit of a hybrid—I wrote some script ahead of time, recorded some footage, and then wrote some more during and after the installation.

Sticking to a script has its pros and cons, but it’s probably the best for me. I have a lot of respect for people who can speak extemporaneously to a camera, or narrate off-the-cuff over footage they’ve edited together. Being on camera is difficult for me, and until recently I didn’t have enough room to really try it. Over the past month I’ve picked up a wireless microphone and rearranged my filming room to create more space, so I may try being on camera in the future. Another complication is my filming camera: a Sony a99ii. It’s great for stills photography, and its mediocre video capabilities weren’t really a concern when I upgraded from my a99 mark 1 in 2018. But now that I’m recording more video I’m crashing right into its limitations. It overheats when recording long 4K clips and its 1080p output is plagued with moire on screens and textures. There’s also many restrictions on video autofocus, and tracking moving objects or my face is a real challenge. At some point this year I’ll migrate to E-Mount—probably around my trip to Japan in November—but I’m making do for now.

All these factors influence my production style. My goal is to produce long-form narrative stories, like telling my personal history of personal computing with Computers of Significant History. Or examining a specific machine like the SE/30 or this Model 80 from an angle you might not have seen before. I don’t think I’d bring my best material if I filmed my unscripted thoughts. And I don’t think that kind of video is bad—far from it! What I am saying is that it doesn’t play to my strengths. There’s tons of talented people making great walkthrough and talk-through material, and they all deserve your attention.

But I believe one of the best pieces of advice for anyone in a creative field—whether you’re an artist, writer, videographer, whatever—is to make the things you want to see. I was raised on a healthy diet of The New Yankee Workshop, Shadetree Mechanic, and The History Channel. YouTube is full of people making shows like these but for computers, which spoils me for choice. But I love watching people who know what they’re talking about sharing their expertise and enthusiasm with others while showing they can learn and grow. That’s what I want to bring to the table.

LGR remains the gold standard in this space for a reason: he’s constantly tweaking and improving his production while consistently releasing new material. Every video might not be to every viewer’s taste, but his frankly astonishing ability as a one-man band to publish polished pieces on a near-weekly basis means if you’re not feeling this week’s subject the odds are pretty good you might vibe with next week's. Clint makes what he wants to make and even when things go sideways he still commits to the bit. This is on top of the fact that he’s constantly iterating his production in small but noticeable ways. He never assumes he knows everything and he's open to suggestions and constructive criticism towards improving his work. I was really flattered when I got some comments on the Model 80 video that compared me favorably to LGR. We share a lot of common influences and tastes, after all. But I’m not trying to be LGR, because he’s already doing a great job of being LGR. I want to do my own thing.

Lastly, LGR is one of many creators who’re willing to spotlight other people’s channels and products or lend their expertise when somebody’s in a bind. Folks helping folks succeed is honestly one of the best aspects of this community. This stuff isn’t zero-sum—helping somebody with their production or shining a spotlight on a new creator won’t detract from the success of your own work. Keeping the community’s enthusiasm high will lift the boats of view counts and watch time for everybody.

I also want to share some plans about future projects I have coming down the pike. The biggest one is a nearly hour-long video with a working title of “The Apple IIGS Megahertz Myth.” It’s about the development of the 65C816 CPU and the IIGS leading to a fraught relationship between Western Design Center, Apple, and the Apple II community. I’m pretty happy with the state of the final draft—I finished the script in March right before my trip to England—but I need to record the audio and assemble all the video coverage. One reason I’ve put off recording it is because I’ve been using Invisalign for the past ten months. My treatment will be done by the time you hear this, but it’s put a real damper on recording sessions. You’re not supposed to take out your aligners for more than an hour at a time, and recording with trays on my teeth was a no-go. Hopefully I’ll get video production going by the end of June and maybe release in late July or early August. Aside from that mega-project I’ll aim to produce something a little lighter to fit in-between that and VCF Midwest. Yes, I’ll be there and I’m planning my usual coverage.

How about Computers of Significant History? That’s a project with a definite end point, though I don’t see myself getting there for a while. I have three machines in the queue: HP Minitowers of the year 2000, the Titanium PowerBook G4, the Blue and White G3, and my first self-built computer. I’ve already acquired the hardware and the next step is writing the scripts and producing the videos. My plan is to use them as a springboard to discuss online communities and consumer operating system transitions. Obviously I’ll run out of PCs for this timeline, but I’m planning a series about software which I’ll probably call Software of Considerable Importance. Just in time for the thirtieth anniversary of Windows 95!

The last bit of literal and figurative business I’d like to bring up is Patreon. People have been asking me about ways to support the show, and I said I would consider something like Patreon after passing 5,000 subscribers. Well, here we are. I’m under no delusions that I’ll be able to quit my day job and live off this hobby’s revenue. But what I’d like to do is get this channel on the path to self-sufficiency, so Patreon funds will be invested back into video production. Computers and parts cost money, and so does investing in cameras, hardware, lights, and music licenses. My initial focus for the launch will be early video access and occasional bonus content. Maybe I could post work in progress scripts. If you’re one of the people that’s been bugging me about it, you can find it at patreon.com/userlandia.

And now, three installation phases later, we’ve arrived at OS/2’s desktop: the Workplace Shell. The subjective experience on this Model 80 with a 20MHz 386DX, 387 FPU, 16MB of RAM, and an XGA-2 graphics card is a slow one. It takes minutes to bootstrap—which is mostly my fault for loading up on network services—and once you get to the desktop you should let it sit until the disk activity light calms down. It’s not unusable, but you’ll encounter some slowdowns and stopwatches. Mac OS 10.0 Panther feels snappy by comparison.

Disk access times aren't too bad thanks to BlueSCSI, but throughput is held back by the 386 and Tribble card. Some folders take forever to open if they’re full of objects with lots of metadata, like a template folder, because the system has to parse and interpret every object’s properties. If all you asked of this machine was to serve files or host BBS nodes its performance would probably be acceptable. I’ll give it credit for being performant enough to play the video equivalent of canyon.mid: macaw.avi. IBM loved touting OS/2’s multimedia bona-fides, though much like the rest of OS/2 Warp these multimedia features would be happier running on a 486.

But what I lost in speed I gained in reliability. OS/2 had a reputation for stability thanks to preemptive multitasking and memory protection. This foundation wasn’t just for OS/2 native apps—it enabled OS/2’s Windows subsystem to run Windows programs in an isolated process. When your monster Excel spreadsheet inevitably crashes it won't take the rest of OS/2 down with it. If you had lots of RAM you could even run each Windows program in its own instance, so that same Excel crash would only crash Excel and not your other Windows apps. OS/2, DOS, and Windows programs could run side-by-side without stepping on each others’ toes. Yes, there is the synchronous input queue problem, which could cause the user interface to lock up while the underpinnings chugged along. But that was… mostly addressed in Warp 4 and back ported to Warp 3 via fix packs.

If you want to try some native OS/2 apps the Bonus Pack’s got you covered. IBM Works is a light productivity suite featuring a basic word processor, spreadsheet, database, and personal information manager. And while they’re not on the level of Lotus SmartSuite they are fully-featured OS/2 apps that leverage IBM’s System Object Model. You can easily embed an auto-recalculating spreadsheet chart in a word processor document, which was all the rage at the time. When you need a bit of downtime you can switch over to OS/2 Solitaire, which presumably is sixteen more bits better than Windows Solitaire. Too bad those extra bits can’t buy whimsy because Windows still has the edge when it comes to art design.

The Bonus Pack also includes an IBM internet connection kit, which bundles online services and ISP connections along with dial-up networking. But the most interesting piece is IBM WebExplorer, an in-house web browser developed specifically for OS/2. The history of this browser could easily be its own video, but it’s probably best known for letting websites customize the throbber animation. It was also remarkably fast at downloading and rendering webpages for its era. But WebExplorer was doomed to fail. The egalitarian ideal that anyone could make their own web browser was no match for the reality that developers and users would gravitate to one or two popular choices. IBM would abandon WebExplorer in favor of Netscape Navigator for OS/2.

The GUI glue that binds all these programs together is the Workplace Shell, and its user experience is… reasonable. IBM got religion about objects in the 90s and launched the System Object Model, or SOM, with OS/2 version 2. Icons are objects, printers are objects, drives are objects—I had a hard time finding something that wasn’t an object! You can install new object classes like the light table slide objects from the Bonus Pack’s Multimedia Kit which created thumbnail previews for photos and videos. Third parties could leverage SOM too—Stardock’s flagship product is called Object Desktop because it started out on OS/2.

SOM turned out to be a dead end—forcing every user interface problem into an object metaphor was a bit of a stretch. There’s other UI shortcomings of the time, like the absence of a visual task switcher and the directory browser tree windows. But there’s a lot to like about Workplace Shell if your alternatives were the Windows Program and File Managers. It’s very good at remembering the positions of your icons and windows. Everything is right-clickable with robust and well-organized context menus. The system can restore your programs and workspaces on a restart. Shadows and Program Objects behave like aliases on the Mac and Shortcuts on Windows. You can group objects together into a Work Area folder which when double clicked will automatically open all of the included documents and programs. The LaunchPad isn’t as good as a taskbar in Windows or a Dock in NextStep but it’s leagues ahead of Windows 3.1’s nonexistent launcher.

Exploring all these features made me feel, oh, 20% more productive. If Mac OS is a quirky artist and Amiga OS is the auteur filmmaker, then OS/2 is the business causal middle manager. So many elements of this system feel corporate, for better or worse. The UI is called the Workplace Shell. The deletion object is called “the shredder,” and not because the designers were disciples of Oroku Saki. IBM’s marketing and training material all focused around typical business tasks. Games were scarce. Multitasking was pitched as a way to more things done and still have time to break for lunch. Networking was about servers and directories and meetings.

Pitching a system that was work-focused wasn’t unheard of in an era when “workstation” was a thriving market segment. Workstations were serious business, and they ran OSes with higher system requirements for tasks where crashes could prove costly. Domain OS, VMS, Solaris, AIX, IRIX, WinNT, the list goes on. And it’s not like microcomputer users couldn’t use the benefits of preemptive multitasking, protected memory, and networking. Amiga users had preemptive multitasking out of the gate! But doing all three in the limited memory and CPU power of most 1980s PCs was too great of an ask.

But consumer PCs in 1995 finally had enough memory and CPU power to multitask, and average users who tried multitasking in Windows 3.1 were met with constant crashes and freezes. In that context OS/2 Warp could’ve been a contender. Its system requirements weren’t all that different from Windows 95’s, plus it had strong compatibility with existing DOS and Windows programs. It also beat Win95 to release by nine months. An opportunity was there for Warp to overtake Windows. The collapse of IBM’s Personal Systems division sealed its fate despite OS/2 Warp 4.0’s launch in September 1996. How did IBM squander so much money, talent, and technology?

A constant source of trouble for OS/2 was its reputation as a memory hog. In the late 80s and early 90s the US-Japan DRAM tariff war meant average PC users couldn’t afford enough RAM to run OS/2 without performance-degrading virtual memory. By the time computers caught up to OS/2’s requirements IBM’s position in the market had drastically changed. Users who made the commitment to OS/2 found it difficult to find native programs to exploit its power and stability. Big Blue had a hard time convincing developers to stick with OS/2 due to expensive developer tools and slow market growth. Microsoft was dominating with Windows 3.x, and used its power to forge aggressive license agreements to freeze other OSes out of the OEM market. And we’re not even touching IBM’s misguided microkernel misadventures which resulted in the abortive OS/2 Warp for PowerPC.

Yet even if OS/2 was preinstalled on more PCs there were other factors that would doom Warp. IBM had about zero skill in pitching OS/2 to the broader consumer market. Its Get Warped advertising campaign was a tired, out of touch exercise that excited nobody. The Fiesta Bowl sponsorship cost IBM millions of dollars with nothing much to show for it but broadcasters cracking jokes about OS/2. And their plans for a Warp Speed-themed launch event were thwarted when negotiations with Paramount’s legal department broke down. Compare that to Microsoft, who pulled out all the stops to bring the Rolling Stones on board to start up Windows 95’s marketing juggernaut. But let’s say IBM managed to market OS/2 better and captured ten or twenty percent more marketshare. It wouldn’t have survived Lou Gerstner’s radical reorganization of IBM which saw the eventual divestment of its consumer PC business.

Yet despite all the bungling and false starts IBM did manage to produce in Warp a stable, powerful OS that was beloved by the users that found it. These fans—and slow-moving conservative businesses with sunk costs—kept its spirit alive even after IBM pulled the plug. Maybe I would have been one of those fans if I had used it back in the day. Yes, there were several things about it that frustrated me, but overall I found OS/2 Warp 3 to be remarkably charming. Warp 4 fixes a lot of those frustrations while keeping its foundation as a powerful, reliable system. I can see a path where it evolved into something that satisfied both the home and business user in the same way Windows NT became the Windows we begrudgingly tolerate today. That is, if IBM had paid any attention to markets other than office productivity. My gut tells me that they wouldn’t have prioritized development of an API like DirectX. But I’ll set aside that argument for another time.

I suppose I should call it a day for my adventures with OS/2. If you made it this far, I’d like to thank you for sticking with me and indulging this 5,000 subscriber celebration. I’m amazed the installation went as well as it did. There weren’t any real problems aside from that 1GB drive limitation, which wasn’t OS/2’s fault. Installing a different OS on a weekend afternoon is something I liked to do back when I was a computer obsessed teen thumbing through stacks of computer books. If you enjoyed this, please let me know and consider subscribing if you’d like to see more. Thank you for reading, and I’ll catch you next time here in Userlandia.

IBM's 386 Tower of Power: The PS/2 Model 80

Stand aside. This is a large computer and it takes large steps. Yes, it’s IBM’s biggest, baddest, and heaviest computer of 1987: The PS/2 Model 80 386. If one of these behemoths lumbers into your collection you need to be prepared for all the gotchas it brings. Here in Userlandia we’re adopting a Micro Channel mammoth.

Oh, Micro Channel Architecture. I sure talked a lot about you in the PS/2 Model 30 286 Computers of Significant History video. I had to, really, because a lack of Micro Channel was a defining trait of that PC. To understand what that machine had meant looking at what it lacked. But as I wrote the script, I realized I had a problem: I didn’t own a Micro Channel PS/2. What was I going to use for video footage?

My original strategy was to use still photos and archive footage from my various VCF trips for coverage. I had no plans to buy a Micro Channel machine due to expensive eBay listings and high shipping fees. But I’ve always wanted an MCA PS/2 in my collection, and if I had an opportunity to get one at a good price I’d take it. And wouldn’t you know it, just as I was polishing up the script an alert popped up on my local Craigslist for a working PS/2 Model 80. The machine appeared to be in great shape, with a working SCSI hard drive and a memory expansion card. $200 wasn’t an awful price either. The odds of finding a better deal elsewhere—especially for a machine in this condition—were pretty low. After an hour of hemming and hawing I finally emailed an offer to buy it.

Craigslist Ad for Model 80

Buying stuff on Craigslist or Marketplace can be an adventure, and this was one of the better ones. The PS/2 was located in Townsend, Massachusetts, a bucolic New England town forty-five minutes away from me. I met up with Aaron, who’s a technician at a computer shop. This Model 80 was one of his vintage restoration projects. He cleaned it from top to bottom, fixed a blown tantalum capacitor, and replaced the 6V CMOS battery. We had a great conversation about old computers and his cool Dodge Daytona. I handed him two hundred bucks, he handed me a pack of setup floppies, and I drove this beast home.

I’ll give Aaron extra credit for the effort he put into this machine before selling it. We’ve all been there with people demanding ridiculous sums for something that’s been in a basement for twenty years because they know what they have. A little spit shine and TLC go a long way when making a deal, and as a buyer I try to respond in kind. I don’t want to waste my time or yours, and I’m willing to show up with cash in hand for a sensible price and a good experience.

Aaron’s efforts also made this computer camera ready. The exterior looks like it's fresh out of a detailer. All the icky black foam’s been plucked from the side panel. And look at all these clean, shiny boards! The Model 80 was also mechanically ready and fully configured thanks to a new CMOS battery, a working floppy drive, and a fresh reference disk. When I flipped the power switch the machine booted right to MS-DOS, with some games and a copy of Windows ready to roll. A turnkey experience like this is a rarity in retro these days. Accounting for the value of this work in the price tag makes this a veritable bargain compared to the ones I’ve seen on eBay.

But let’s say you’re not as lucky and you stumble upon a PS/2 that needs some work. A Micro Channel machine can bamboozle seasoned vintage computer collectors with the myriad ways it differs from a regular PC. So I’m going to explore how these machines are built, what they’re capable of, how to upgrade and configure them, and the bumps you’ll hit along the way. I’ve got plenty of knowledge from books and past encounters with PS/2s, but there’s bound to be gaps in my memory. I’d also need resources like disk images, drivers, and ADFs. Luckily, I can stand on the shoulders of big blue giants like The Ardent Tool of Capitalism and IBM Museum. They’re a treasure trove of downloads, documentation, and answers to oddly specific questions. Now that you have an idea of where we’re going, let’s start by exploring the Model 80’s case.

Tower cases were still a rarity back in 1987, and IBM chose to rotate the case 90 degrees because… well, look at the size of this thing! The Models 60 and 80 were designed as floor standing towers that live underneath a desk. Yet despite considerable height and depth it’s fairly narrow compared to most tower cases. IBM was so enthralled with 3.5 inch drives that they designed the enclosure around them. Still, there is a full-height 5 1/4 inch bay—it’s just rotated 90 degrees to fit.

But a big case has a cost, and the price you pay is weight. It’s so heavy that there’s a sticker listing its weight at 40.5 pounds. And this isn’t even the heaviest Model 80 variant! Perhaps IBM took pity on the people who had to port these machines around, because they included a handy handle on the top of the case. I suppose that makes it portable in some way, but I think “liftable” is the better term.

On the bottom of the case are two fold-out pedestal feet. Because the case was intended to stand underneath a desk, there’s a risk that the tower would tip over after an accidental kick from a desk jockey. The cases’s tall, skinny design combined with a top-mounted power supply and heavy drives gives it a high center of gravity. Instead of making the whole case wider—or perhaps as a consequence of designing the narrowest case possible—IBM added these feet to balance things out. You don’t have to use them, but you probably should.

For connectivity, the Model 80 offers a standard array of ports: keyboard, mouse, serial, parallel, and VGA. This makes it easy to hook this old boat anchor up to modern-ish displays and input devices.

Finally, the pièce de résistance: the power switch. IBM may have changed the color from red to white, but it still has that trademark chunky sound. Mmm, satisfying.

Now let’s take a look inside. The side panel is secured by two captive screws, and a coin is the perfect tool to loosen them. There’s a key lock too, but this case’s keys are lost to time. If it was locked, all it takes to open it is cutting the end off a Bic pen and shoving it in.

Normally this panel would be covered in a black noise dampening foam, which over time decomposes into an awful black goo. It’s sticky and gross and irritating and it gets everywhere. Thankfully Aaron removed it all during his restoration. If you’re buying a Model 60 or 80, be prepared for a full de-lousing.

Once you look inside you’ll understand why this computer is so capacious: this case corrals clusters of cards, cages and cables. IBM built this machine to grow along with its customers, and that meant a lot of space for said customers to cram in expensive IBM components. It’s not too chaotic for an enclosure of its era, all things considered. There’s even some basic cable management features.

Storage accounts for most of the volume. The Models 60 and 80 offer “up to six direct storage access bays,” but what does that mean, exactly? That figure includes two externally accessible 3.5 inch bays, one of which is fitted with a 1.4MB floppy drive from the factory. The second bay was free for you to install a second floppy drive, a tape drive, or nowadays a Gotek.

Next is a full-height 5 1/4 inch drive bay. It could hold a floppy drive, optical drive, or a massive full-height hard disk. Installing a drive is straightforward—attach some AT drive rails, slide it in, and tighten the clamp using these thumbscrews. Good luck finding a bezel for most drives, though. Later Model 80s ditched full-height hard drives for a dual drive bracket. Buy a second one and—ta-da—you now have the advertised maximum of six drive bays.

A lot of drives will draw a lot of power, and a 242 watt power supply feeds all these components. That might not seem like much compared to modern workstations, but it was pretty good for its day. PC ATs maxed out at 192 watts, while desktop PS/2s offered something between 90 and 132 watts. All this juice flowed through fully modular cables, which was another rarity for the era.

What if you needed to replace a dead drive or a faulty power supply? Taking apart these towers is easier than you’d expect because they were designed to be serviced on site by corporate IT techs. The first step is to remove the front bezel. It comes off with a solid pull from the bottom, just like many modern PCs. The 3.5 inch bay covers are held in with clips and pop out easily by pushing in at the edge, and the same goes for the 5 1/4 bay bezel.

Like other PS/2s the floppy drives are attached to sleds. Unplug the floppy cable, press upwards on the tabs, and it slides right out of the case. Next is the hard drive bracket. This is easy—just loosen the thumbscrews and the bracket slides back for removal. Hard drives are installed using standard drive screws. Four screws secure the drive bay carrier to the chassis. Use a nut driver or a big flathead screwdriver to loosen them. Once the screws are removed, the bay carrier lifts up and out of the case. The power supply is just as easy. First, unplug the motherboard cable. Then unscrew the three screws securing the power supply to the chassis. Now you can grab this handle and pull up.

With all those components removed we’re left with a sizable motherboard. IBM made three different versions of the Model 80 planar, and this one’s a type 2. It’s distinguished by two ROM BIOS chips versus the type 1’s four chips, and three 32-bit MCA slots versus the type 3’s four slots. Google the FRU number if you’re unsure.

Processing power comes from a 20MHz 386DX CPU and 387DX FPU. There’s no cache on this board; that was reserved for the 25MHz type 3.

Memory for the Model 80 comes in the form of these planar memory cards. IBM shipped these -081s with one 2MB card, and this example has a second 2MB card bringing the total to 4MB. Up to 8MB could be installed on this planar via two 4MB memory cards. Finding them isn’t easy, so you might have better luck installing Micro Channel RAM expansion boards.

Here’s a neat curiosity: an add-on floppy controller plugged into the planar’s floppy port. I haven’t been able to identify this specific board or find any documentation for it, but based on the jumpers my hunch is that it came with a tape backup kit. Attached to its secondary port is a long ribbon cable that leads to a slot bracket with a 37 pin external floppy connector. Presumably this would work with the IBM External 5 1/4 inch drive, but I don’t have one to test this theory. I’m also curious if it supports more than two floppy drives, as the standard dual-drive ribbon cable is still attached to the primary port. If you have any ideas, leave me a note.

Video is provided by IBM’s base PS/2 VGA graphics chipset. A VGA controller, 256K of video memory, and an Inmos RAMDAC deliver standard VGA graphics modes like 320x200 at 256 colors.

Unlike my Model 30 and its Dallas clock chip, the Model 80 has a separate battery for its realtime clock and CMOS memory. It’s a common 6V lithium camera battery that costs around ten to fifteen bucks to replace. These machines won’t boot without a working battery, so make sure to put one on your shopping list.

Lastly, it’s time for slots and cards. Micro Channel Architecture is the defining feature of these PS/2s, and you’ll need to learn its intricacies before planning any upgrades. This Model 80 came with three cards: an IBM Token Ring Adapter, an IBM PS/2 SCSI Adapter, and an IBM Enhanced 32-bit Memory Adapter.

Before adding or removing any cards I suggest you make a note of your existing configuration. Adding, removing, or changing cards will force you to run the reference disk’s configuration utility at the next boot. I’ve got the memory card in slot 2, SCSI card in slot 4, and token ring card in slot 7.

Installing Micro Channel cards is pretty easy. Unlike ISA and PCI cards which are secured by regular screws inside the case, MCA cards are secured by thumbscrews that are outside the case. I find them a bit fiddly for my fingers, but the ends are slotted so a screwdriver or coin makes quick work of loosening them. Then each card can be lifted up and out of the case thanks to these plastic guide pieces.

Another difference between MCA and other types of cards is the bracket. One of the reported flaws of the classic card bracket is that it’s not great at stopping electromagnetic leakage. Micro Channel brackets are designed to slide into, well, metal channels forged in the back of the case. A set of springy fingers on each side of the bracket grip the channel sidewalls and connects a solid ground.

With all the cards removed we can see three different types of MCA slots. This planar has three 32-bit slots with matched memory extension, four standard 16-bit slots, and one 16-bit slot with Auxiliary Video Extension. Notice that despite their varying lengths that all the slots are aligned to this one key pin. A 32-bit slot has a longer connector than a 16-bit slot, but since the key pin is in the same location, a 16-bit card works in a 32-bit slot. Some 32-bit cards can be used in 16 bit slots if they have a compatibility key—just make sure the hanging edge connector doesn’t interfere with other components.

Extensions aren’t just for bit width, either. Check out this one on the front of slot 6: it’s the Auxiliary Video Extension, yet another evolutionary dead-end for PC graphics. Imagine you’re buying a PC to run CAD applications in the mid-1980s. Basic CGA and MDA graphics cards weren’t up to snuff, so you’d buy a dedicated graphics card and a matching monitor. But you can’t get rid of your original video card and monitor, because that expensive new card and monitor can’t display those old modes! So your original graphics card and monitor would live side-by-side with your new graphics card and monitor, usually with text on the former and graphics on the latter.

IBM’s fist attempt at solving this problem was the beast known as the Professional Graphics Controller, or Adapter, or Array. This triple-decker circuit board sandwich layered with chips and controllers served up analog RGB video at 640x480 resolution with 256 colors out of a palette of 4096. But that’s not all—it also emulated CGA graphics modes over the same analog output! This meant you could run Lotus 1-2-3 and AutoCAD on the same monitor without needing to flip switches or change inputs.

So when you look at the PGC and its layers of complexity, you can see the logic behind the AVE. If IBM was already including a VGA chipset on every PS/2 motherboard, why not use it? Installing an AVE card trips a presence switch that enables a digital passthrough for the onboard VGA graphics. Whenever a CGA, EGA, or basic VGA mode is requested, the planar’s VGA is routed through the AVE to the add-in card’s monitor port. If you’re thinking “Wait a minute, that sounds suspiciously similar to how 3dfx cards passed through VGA signals from a 2D graphics card,” you’re not wrong! The execution’s different, but the spirit’s the same.

There’s nothing technically wrong with AVE, but it was doomed to fail. Partly because it was a Micro Channel exclusive and Micro Channel failed, but mostly because IBM underestimated the power of Moore’s law. Makers of graphics board took advantage of the rapid pace of technological advancement to soup up VGA into more powerful Super VGA cards that could display standard modes and their higher resolution modes without passthroughs. Even IBM had to admit it was a dead end when they integrated VGA support into XGA. But that’s enough about video for the moment. Let’s examine the cards that came with this system.

First and certainly least is a Token Ring 16/4 Network Adapter. IBM’s version of Token Ring is probably the most famous—or infamous—ring topology network. Setting up a simple Token Ring network isn’t easy, because an Access Unit is required for even the simplest scenario of connecting two computers together. Stay tuned, because I have a different solution for getting this machine on a network.

Next is the IBM PS/2 SCSI Adapter. It’s better known by its codename Tribble, as it’s one of two SCSI cards with Star Trek names. The other Star Trek SCSI card—Spock—has cache memory which, logically, should yield better performance. Model 80s won’t see much of a benefit from the cache, so a Tribble card is fine. A ribbon cable attaches to the top edge connector and provides three 50-pin connectors for internal drives. The external connection is, annoyingly, a proprietary IBM HDCN-60 pin connector. That means no external CD-ROM or Zip drives without finding a unicorn cable or adapter. At least an internal BlueSCSI can serve as a CD-ROM emulator.

Lastly, we have the IBM Enhanced 80386 Memory Adapter with ROM. This long board with the longer name is a great example of IBM’s penchant for proprietary peculiarities. Model 80 planars are limited to a maximum of 4 or 8 MB of on-board memory depending on your particular variant. Further memory expansion requires a Micro Channel memory expander from IBM or third parties like Intel, Kingston, and so on.

One downside to IBM memory adapters is that they require IBM-branded SIMMs. The system checks for presence bits on the SIMMs that match specific combinations of speed and size, and if it doesn’t find them it’ll error during POST. I bought a pair of IBM 4MB 70ns SIMMs because various sites and newsgroup posts claimed the part number was compatible. 70ns SIMMs should work in an 80ns system; they’ll just run at 80ns. Yet after I installed them the PS/2 returned an 18441 Unsupported SIMM error.

The seller had validated them as working IBM SIMMs, and I had no reason to doubt them because I’ve bought plenty of good RAM from them before. And yes, I tried it with only the 70ns SIMMs installed. Maybe 70ns SIMMs only work in this card when it’s installed in a type 3 planar, which requires 70ns RAM. I eventually gave up and bought two 80ns SIMMs that matched the one I already had, and those worked fine.

Now I have 16MB of RAM, which is great for DOS and Windows 3.1, and probably acceptable for OS/2. Coincidentally, 16MB is the soft limit for RAM in a Model 80. Yet another quirk of this machine is the 24-bit direct memory access controller, which means any DMA transfers must occur in the first 16 MB of RAM. If a bus-master card or an OS performs a DMA transfer above that barrier, well… brace yourself for a crash. That’s a bit of a bummer for a machine like the Model 80 which is designed around DMA and bus mastering.

But where there’s a will to install more RAM, there’s a way. IBM released the Bypass One Problem Temporarily patch, which updates the reference disk and the ROM on this card to work around the 16MB limit. The requirements for this are a bit arcane—you’ll need at least two MCA memory adapters, one of which has ROM. I highly recommend reading a copy of the update instructions posted by Ian Brown on the comp.sys.ibm.ps2.hardware newsgroup. I updated my adapter by following these instructions and the process was tedious but straightforward. Pro tip: save yourself from dozens of disk swaps and extract the updated ADFs and SC.EXE from a disk image and copy them to your reference disk using a modern PC. If this is too hacky for you, boards like the Acculogic and Kingston memory expanders have their own memory mappers and can break the 16MB barrier without BOPT according to PS/2 wizard Peter Wendt. My advice is to avoid this problem entirely and stick to the maximum 16MB of RAM.

Imagine that you’ve finished restoring a PS/2 just like this one. You’ve replaced the CMOS battery, upgraded the memory, serviced the drives, and stuffed all those cards into its slots. It’s be a big white doorstop unless you have the key to start it: the reference disk. Every MCA PS/2 has a Reference Disk with utilities and configuration files to set up its BIOS, and you’ll need to fish it out whenever hardware changes are made. Odds are it’s not the only disk you’ll need either thanks to the architecture of IBM’s software device configuration.

Plug and play systems need a way for the BIOS or operating system to identify hardware, and IBM’s idea was Programmable Option Select. POS uses eight hardware registers to declare the card’s identity and capabilities. The first two contain adapter and manufacturer information encoded into a unique 16-bit identifier. The next four are programmable option registers that use bit masks to define the card’s option settings. They’re like a software version of DIP switches or jumpers that let you virtually select configuration options like an IRQ or address port. The last two are subaddress registers which can read or write data to additional memory on the board. I’m glossing over a lot here, but if you want more gory details about MCA’s architecture I’d recommend checking out the sources I used for research: Tube Time’s MCA Tutorial or the MCA Architecture Handbook on Archive.org.

POS’ fatal flaw—unfortunate abbreviation aside—is that it doesn’t actually tell the BIOS much of anything about the card other than the unique ID. A few reserved option bits have fixed functions defined in the spec, but otherwise you’d have no idea what a card is capable of just by looking at the registers. That’s why every card needs a matching Adapter Description File. ADFs are text files which translate the unique ID into an actual card name and the option registers into settings like IRQs and I/O addresses. Without ADF files MCA cards are worthless. Back in the day these files came on Option floppies, or you could download them from a BBS and copy them to your reference diskette.

How does software configuration work in practice? Let’s demonstrate by trading out the Token Ring card for an Ethernet card; specifically this Western Digital EtherCard Plus 10T. After installing the card I’ll need to boot up with the reference disk.

God, the memory test on this is slow.

The system recognized that the adapter configuration has changed andI’m prompted to run automatic configuration. Normally this is when you’d use Copy Option Diskette to load the ADF, but I’ve already copied the ADF to the reference disk using a modern PC. The auto-configuration process takes a few minutes, and when it’s done you’re dropped into the reference disk’s main menu.

Looking in View Configuration the ethernet card shows up in slot 7 and we have some settings to tweak like its I/O resource, IRQ, BIOS ROM, and so on. This is POS working as designed, automatically selecting the appropriate resources based on the installed cards. Seems pretty easy, so why does everybody grouse about it?

It’s not that POS doesn’t work; it’s that it doesn’t go far enough for something that breaks backwards compatibility. POS might have eliminated jumpers and switches but it didn't solve the architectural issues that made them necessary in the first place. There’s still the potential for resource conflicts with an unlucky combination of cards. It doesn’t matter if the system can auto-assign an IRQ when the only one the card can select is 7. Then there’s the tedious reference and option disk shuffling, which nobody liked then or now. If my reference disk was lost or destroyed I’d have to re-copy all the ADFs and re-do all my custom configurations. That ethernet card didn’t come with an option disk when I bought it at a swap meet. If I hadn’t found its ADF over at the Ardent Tool, it would be utterly useless.

On the one hand IBM was working within the constraints of its era, which makes some of these decisions understandable. But on the other hand NuBus and Zorro were true plug-and-play busses, and they were developed and released at the same time! At least Micro Channel gave a blueprint for mistakes to avoid when the PCI group got around to defining the PCI configuration space.

But whatever. You’ve successfully restored and configured a Micro Channel monolith. Only one question remains—what are you going to do with it? I can hear all the shouts of “GAMES! PLAY SOME GAMES!” But look at this thing—people weren’t buying them for games. This particular Model 80 is a type 8580-081, which was announced on October 30, 1990 for a list price of $6,845—that’s almost $16,000 in today’s purchasing power. That chunk of change bought you a 20MHz Intel 386DX, 2MB of RAM, a 1.4MB floppy drive, VGA graphics, and an 80MB SCSI hard drive.

With such a lofty price tag, the only way someone could afford a machine like this was to put it to work. And wouldn’t you know it, I’ve got a productivity app perfectly suited to pay those bills: AutoCAD! Behold as it slowly paints the famous Autodesk Space Shuttle demo file line by line. I won't guess how long an actual render job would take. Honestly, this machine’s performance in Windows 3.1 is more than acceptable, even within the limitations of cooperative multitasking. 16MB of RAM and a SCSI hard drive certainly help on that front. But could I be even more productive with a higher resolution display with extra colors? If only there was a way to… extend the graphics capability of this machine. Wait a minute, there is! It’s the IBM XGA-2 graphics adapter!

This card is notable because it was IBM’s last-gasp attempt to stay in charge of PC graphics standards. Introduced in September 1992, it improved upon the first XGA card by upgrading the VRAM to a standard 1MB, adding support for 800x600 resolutions, and offering non-interlaced 1024x768 modes. And XGA-2 did all this for a list price of $360, which a fraction of the $1,095 you’d pay for a 512K XGA-1 back in 1990.

Installing this card opens up a new world of video capabilities. A graphical OS is a much better experience with a large 1024x768 desktop with 256 colors and a flicker-free 70Hz. Or I can trade resolution for color depth and get 65,000 colors at 640x480 or 800x600. And fixed-function graphics acceleration routines prevents all this pixel-pushing from pulverizing performance. This chipset had all the ingredients to succeed VGA as the de facto PC graphics standard—so why did it fail?

When IBM launched XGA in 1990 the landscape of PC graphics was shifting constantly. VGA was a massive improvement over CGA and EGA, but the hunger for higher fidelity graphics seemed insatiable. Companies like Genoa, Western Digital, and ATI released so-called Super VGA cards that displayed more colors or higher resolutions than regular VGA. Some Super VGA cards were clones of IBM’s 8514/A, the predecessor to XGA. Others extended VGA in their own ways which required specific drivers for each application. SVGA wasn’t really a standard; it was just a label that meant “somehow better than VGA.” IBM’s plan with XGA was to define a real successor architecture, publish the hardware specifications, and license out the chipset. Other manufacturers adopting XGA would kill the incompatible Super VGAs, just as VGA did to the Extended EGAs of yore.

That was a sensible strategy in 1987, but IBM’s influence had waned by 1990. Video card and monitor manufacturers agreed to work together and formed the Video Electronics Standards Association in July 1989. Going forward VESA would define a vendor-agnostic method to display Super VGA modes. The first round of VESA Video BIOS extensions released in 1990 had their limitations, but it was a sign to application developers that the madness of writing a driver for every video card would eventually come to an end. Now they could request a VESA video mode and either the card’s VBIOS or a terminate-and-stay-resident program would answer the request by changing the graphics card to the desired mode.

IBM was a member of VESA and XGA cards do support VESA modes thanks to an IBM TSR. But the catch is that IBM expected developers using VESA modes to obey the spec, and—surprise—most did not. Many apps and games directly manipulated the VGA color registers while in VESA modes. XGA’s high resolution modes don’t use the VGA palette registers, so attempts to modify them results in a corrupted palette. IBM’s TSR ends up being useless. Meanwhile, UniVBE just hangs, so there isn’t really an alternative.

The practical impact of this problem on a Model 80 is minimal because the number of games than run on a 386 with Super VGA graphics can probably be counted on one hand. The two most popular would be Links 386 and SimCity 2000, and luckily they both have XGA compatibility switches. 486 PS/2 owners with XGA will face more challenges. According to old newsgroup posts the VESA emulation in Windows 95 actually fixes the palette problem, so you might have better luck running DOS games in Windows instead.

If VESA had adopted XGA, maybe things would have been different, but IBM admitted defeat in 1993 when they switched to Cirrus-based SVGA chipsets and cards. Will an XGA-2 card help your MCA PS/2? It couldn’t hurt, especially if you like to run Windows. There’s updated drivers for Windows 9x that enable more color depths at higher resolutions. If your goal is pure DOS gaming, you might want to look elsewhere. But adding it to this Model 80 feels right. This machine deserves better than VGA graphics, and now it feels more complete.

I hope you enjoyed my tour of this monument to business arrogance. I’m not an IBM fanboy, but I have to say there’s a devilish appeal to owning something that was way out of your price range when it was new. Aaron and I agreed that if I was going to own a Micro Channel machine, this one had to be it. The only way I could make this thing even more IBM is by installing OS/2, and maybe I will some day. Until then, it’ll stay in my collection as a piece of Big Blue history.