I recently learned of the passing of Ward Christensen, the man who gave us the Bulletin Board System (BBS), and it brought back a flood of memories. His invention marked the beginning of something transformative for many of us – a time when the online world was gritty, underground, and incredibly personal.

Back in the 90s, we didn’t have flashy social media platforms or the algorithms of today’s internet. Instead, we had BBSes – bare-bones, text-driven communities that required a deliberate connection. Logging in through my modem, hearing that familiar series of clicks and tones, felt like opening a portal to another world. For me, it was BBSes like Fantasia and Netlock that became my digital homes, where I found my people, discovered new ideas, and cultivated my identity in the world of computers and hacking. These were spaces that Christensen’s BBS architecture made possible.

Ward Christensen’s work was more than a technical invention. He gave us the backbone of something raw and real, a place where people shared knowledge, codes, ideas, and dreams of what computers could do. BBSes weren’t just message boards – they were worlds of their own, each with its own rules, its own culture, and a vibrant cast of characters. In Denmark, hacking-oriented boards like Fantasia and Netlock brought together like-minded souls, driven by a hunger for connection and the thrill of exploring uncharted digital frontiers.

I remember the thrill of discovering something new or the anticipation of meeting another user who “got it.” Many of us would sit up late at night, trading ASCII art, swapping lines of code, sharing our latest discoveries, and pushing each other to learn more, dig deeper, hack better. Christensen didn’t just invent a piece of software; he gave us a platform that allowed a generation to push boundaries and discover new possibilities in technology. It was the first place where I truly felt at home online.

The ethos of these BBSes also taught me the importance of knowledge-sharing, a principle that shaped me beyond my time in those rooms. In many ways, they were a precursor to open-source collaboration; it didn’t matter if you were a beginner or a guru, everyone contributed what they could, and everyone learned. It was on those platforms, with people who often felt like family despite living oceans apart, that I learned how the power of community could drive innovation and shape individual paths.

For many of us, Christensen’s legacy is in the friendships and skills that we gained on those late nights, when the rest of the world was asleep. He empowered us to connect, learn, and create – and for that, he will always be remembered. Those early BBS days are now long gone, but the impact remains, woven into who I am and who many of us became.

If you want the story about the very first BBS – told by Ward himself – then check this nice documentary:

BBS…what the heck is that?

No clue about what a BBS is? Not to worry! Al’s geek Lab at YouTube has made a nice 8-parts introduction series to BBSes. You can find the series here:

Did you join BBSes (or do you still enjoy visiting these relics from the past)? Which ones were your favorites and why ?