Nowadays, it’s just a sanctuary for my father to play marathon sessions of Diablo 3. But a little over 15 years ago, the breakfast nook in my parents’ kitchen more closely resembled a coliseum where man (my father) was pitted against machine. Back then, it wasn’t uncommon to hear strings of profanities streaming out of the room while he sat in front of a desktop computer hunched over in defeat — all in an attempt to run Linux.
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