Transcription

Hello, I'm Shank, and this is an average-sized, 27-inch cathode ray tube TV, also known as a CRT. It's almost 2 feet thick and weighs about 100 pounds. Up until the mid-2000s, most homes in the United States had a tube TV like this in them. The word tube was even widely used as a general term for TV in pop culture, such as in the context of watching the tube. That's actually where YouTube got its name. It was a way to see you on the tube. But today, these CRT TVs have become a relic of the past, and almost everyone has replaced them with newer, thinner, flat-panel displays. Well, almost everyone. There's a growing cult of hobbyists who love CRTs. Mostly used today for retro gaming, these CRT displays feature many advantages over modern displays, and fans of the technology, myself included, swear by it. Smaller CRTs usually range from 9 to 36 inches diagonally. But as the size of a vacuum-filled tube increased linearly, the force of the vacuum inside them increased exponentially. This meant bigger CRTs required thicker walls to keep them from imploding under the force of the atmosphere. Given that the walls of the tube were made of lead, this weight added up fast. Beyond 36 inches, CRTs became so large and heavy that they were pretty impractical. But practicality is boring. This is the KX45ED1, also known as the PVM4300. It was supposedly the largest CRT ever sold, featuring a massive 45-inch picture tube. The TV itself weighed over 440 pounds, not counting the 171-pound stand. Like, this TV is so heavy, the actual instruction manual included specific instructions to make sure that your floor is strong enough to support it. The US model was priced at $40,000 when it went on sale in 1989, or over $100,000 today, adjusted for inflation. Its existence pushed beyond the limits of practicality and into the realm of, we made it because we can. Well, at least that's how the story goes. But if you dig a little deeper, things get pretty strange. As of posting this video, there are only two alleged photos of this CRT on the internet that aren't marketing material directly from Sony. These photos are alleged because without any additional pictures or known objects for scale, it's hard to know for sure if they really are KX45s or something else. Beyond some old marketing hype and an old scan of an incomplete instruction manual, there's next to no concrete info on it. Anytime this mythical monitor is brought up online, arguments over its existence between believers and non-believers are sure to follow. Some claim it was just a Sony marketing stunt to flex on Mitsubishi in their ongoing tube measuring contest in the late 80s. Historical evidence exists, but nothing concrete remains. You'd think with how huge this TV is, and with how many CRT collectors are out there, that if one exists, it would have been found by now. It's essentially become the Bigfoot of CRTs. The El Tubacabra. The Loch Ness Monitor. But at this point, most have given up and accepted that even if the great white whale of the CRT hobby did exist at one point, it's incredibly unlikely any still survived. And that's how I expected things to stay. Until one day, my friend Derf dropped a bomb on me in a Discord message. Oh, also if you have an inkling to visit Japan, or know anyone else there, preferably who speaks the language, I found the address of a restaurant that has a PVM-4300 that was the source of one of the images of it, at least as of a few years ago, but given that it's a 43-inch tube possibly on the second floor, it probably hasn't moved. Derf runs the Console Modding Wiki, a passion project where he archives as much as he can about anything related to consoles and modding, including CRTs. One restless night, he was on a midnight internet hunt trying to track down details of the mythical KX-45ED1. He was able to track down the original source of this image back to a 2015 post on a Japanese blog called Move of Sunday. Derf reached out to the blogger, asking where the photo of the TV was taken. To his surprise, the blogger quickly responded. According to the blogger, the photo was taken seven years ago in the waiting room on the second floor of a restaurant called Chikuma Soba located in Osaka, Japan. A quick Google search and we learn that Chikuma was a 300-year-old soba noodle restaurant and factory. While unassuming from the outside, it seemed to be quite a popular and historic destination. The building also includes a factory where the noodles are made in-house. In other words, the best lead we had on this TV was that it was allegedly photographed on the second floor of a 300-year-old Japanese noodle factory seven years ago. Wild. At this point, Derf shot me the message on Discord, asking if I knew anyone locally who could check it out. On October 20th, I popped into VoiceChat in a small modding Discord server. A friend of mine on that server by the name of Mike told me he would check it out when he went to go visit Osaka in a few months. In the meantime, my modder friends in VoiceChat and I began digging for more clues. We went through 1,500 photos on Google Maps and eventually found ones that matched the floor and wall tiles of the original photo. So this confirmed it was the right place and it was here at some point in time. But was it still there? On one hand, the photo was seven years old. But on the other hand, the TV weighed over 440 pounds and was supposedly on the second floor. Maybe it was still unmoved. And if it hasn't moved from that spot for 30 years, it's probably not going to move between now and- Uh, we may have a problem. Check out this post on Chikuma's website. The site was in Japanese, but when translated, we came to a horrifying discovery. Chikuma was moving to a new building, and the old location was scheduled for demolition. The old location was closing permanently in three days. Three days. Three days! That's all I had? Three days to figure out if this TV was still there. And if it's there, was it destined for demolition as well? This could very well be the last KX45ED1 in existence, and if it was still there, I only had three days to do anything about it. I reached out to everyone I knew in Japan, but nobody was close enough to make it happen. I had depleted my options, and a last-minute trip to Japan just wasn't in the cards. As a last-ditch effort, I took to Twitter and made a post seeking help from any local stranger willing to help. A few hours later, I got a reply from a stranger named Abebe. Hello. I live in Osaka. If it's within my power, I'd be happy to help. I sent this stranger a private message with the details, and he told me the soonest he could go was Sunday at noon, or 4am my time zone, the final day it was open. That was far too close for comfort, but at this point, what choice did I have? Unable to find anyone else for backup, I had no choice but to anxiously wait until the final day and hope this stranger would pull through for me. Sunday, October 23rd, 4am. The first of twelve alarms I set goes off, and I frantically check my phone. New message on Twitter. I take a deep breath, and open the message. It's here! Still turns on. I talked to the owner of the restaurant. He said that they need to move at the end of November, and are looking for a way to get rid of the TV. Our hero on the ground pulled through. He made it to the restaurant in time, and found the TV. It was still there, exactly where it was in the photo seven years ago, and it still worked. Even better. I talked to the owner of the restaurant, and the owner was looking for a way to get rid of the TV. Oh man, this might actually happen. We might actually be able to save the CRT. I reached back out to my modder friends, and being the enablers they are, were absolutely on board. They got right to work drawing up strategies for extraction, including discussion of potential issues we may encounter along the way. Operation Big Boy was a go. There were many challenges to overcome, and not much time to do it. Somehow convince the owner to give or sell it to me. Get the TV down from the second floor into a safe location in Japan before demolition. Transport it from a safe location in Japan internally to the United States. Once in the United States, get it safely to my possession. Find a way to pay for it all. And if I got through all of that, I had possibly the most challenging task of all. Convince my roommates not to murder me in my sleep when they see it. Only one thing was certain. If I could somehow pull this off, it was going to be really expensive. Like really, really expensive. But that was a bridge I'd have to cross when I get there, assuming I even make it that far. This was getting really dumb, really fast. I needed a sanity check, so I called my parents. I knew they could talk some sense into me. There is no way they would be on board with me spending thousands of dollars shipping a 440 pound 30 year old TV from Japan, right? Nope. Turns out my parents, like my modern friends, are enablers as well. They told me to go for it, and encouraged me to see to the end of the story. And to my surprise, they offered the garage as a temporary home for the KX45 until I move into a larger space. Chikuma's old location was now closed, and phone calls to the restaurant went unanswered. The new location wasn't opening for another two weeks, and we had no idea what day the old building was scheduled for demolition. Only that it was some point in November. At any point in time, the owner could be making arrangements for the TV to be disposed of at an E-Waste facility. The clock was ticking, and time was running out. With no way to contact the owner, Abebe traveled back to the closed restaurant on October 31st. The restaurant had no additional contact information, and nobody there to help us. It was a dead end, but Abebe had an idea. Send the owner a written letter to the store with his contact info. It was a long shot, a slow solution when time was critical, but at this point, it was the only option we had. The letter was sent, and all I could do was wait. To say I was anxious in the coming days would be a complete understatement. I felt completely powerless, and my mind was restless as the clock continued to tick towards an unknown deadline. What if it was destroyed, and there was something I could have done in retrospect to have been just a day faster and save it? As the clock marched on, all I could do was wait. November 6th. I woke at 4am to several Discord notifications on my phone. The owner of the restaurant had received the letter, and reached out to Abebe. The owner was willing to give me the TV for free, as long as we handled the transportation on our end. We had until November 20th to get it out of there. 14 days. All we had to do was let the owner know when we planned to pick it up. This was incredible news. The TV had not been destroyed, and we were not too late. Two weeks was still a really tight schedule, but it was within the realm of possible. We began calling and emailing every business we could find that might be able to help us. Moving businesses, storage companies, logistics corporations, full-service immigration services. But to my dismay, none were able to help. Maybe they could if we had more time, but once again, time was not on my side. But sometimes, life has a funny way of working out. Because Abebe, once again, was here to save the day. It just so happened that his friend, Chihiro, worked for a company that regularly shipped large industrial equipment internationally. And through connections, string pulling, and lots of paperwork, a plan was set in motion, and a quote was sent my way. They could handle everything. Down the stairs, out the door, to their warehouse, crated up, air shipped to the United States, and box truck delivery to my parents' garage. All before demolition. But there was one catch. Doing this would have cost me a LOT of money. Like used car amount of money. And as someone attempting to be a responsible adult, I simply can't justify burning that much money on something like this. But I can justify burning Shopify's money on this. If you have any interest in ever running a business, you should know about Shopify, the sponsor of this video. It's an all-in-one commerce platform designed to help you run your business and sell your products. Shopify reduces the complexity of starting or growing your business by giving you the tools to handle pretty much everything. On the front end, Shopify's tools and thousands of third-party apps let you quickly create and customize your site. On the back end, Shopify can handle payment processing, fraud detection, sales and marketing analytics, and so much more. Shopify even has point-of-sale systems to enable in-person sales at any scale. Personally, I use Shopify pretty much every day. My business I started up with my friends Gunner and Aurelio, 4LAYERTECH, runs on Shopify. Have a look at this. This is an official Nintendo 64 memory pack, used by many Nintendo 64 games to store save data. Unfortunately, these memory cards use volatile memory, meaning they require a battery to retain save data. So when the battery dies, the save data goes with it. That's why we made Foreverback. It uses non-volatile memory, freeing your save files from the ticking timer of a battery. We are really proud of them, and put a lot of work into the details, like tuning the colors to match the official controller colors. With Shopify, it was easy to set up the product page and add color variants. This was oh-so-convenient, given that we have matching packs for every single official Nintendo 64 controller color. Shopify gave 4LAYERTECH the tools to start a business selling products we love. I'm so happy they offered to sponsor this video and provide the funds needed to air freight over 400 pounds of lead from Japan straight into my parents' garage. Shopify gives you the tools to turn your crazy business idea into a reality. You can start your free trial at shopify.com slash shankmods. And now with sponsorship money in hand, I was able to make the irresponsible decision of sending a very large wire transfer to a stranger in Japan. Now it was Abibi and Chihiro's turn. Chihiro recruited a contact experienced in moving heavy machinery abroad by the name of Mr. Takahashi. The three of them went out on an adventure back to Chikuma-soba to work out a plan. Mr. Takahashi assessed the scope of the task at hand, while Abibi used a Mr. FPGA to verify some more tests on the TV. Mr. Takahashi also graciously agreed to store the TV in his warehouse until he and Chihiro could complete the customs paperwork. On the day of the big move, Mr. Takahashi showed up with a team of movers. He had warned the movers about the size of the TV, but from what I was told, I don't think anything could have mentally prepared them for this behemoth. Once mentally collected and prepared, they wrapped the TV in extra padding and netting to allow better grip for more people. Then they carried it down the stairs and into the truck. From there, it was off to Mr. Takahashi's warehouse, where it would be crated and await paperwork for international shipment. January 16th, 2023. The big day had finally come, and the mythic cargo was finally here. Unloading from the box truck into the garage was a breeze with the pallet jack, but I knew uncrating it and setting up this 440 pound monster was going to be a different story. So I put out a call for help, and my friends answered. We all gathered at my parents' garage and took part in an unboxing experience like no other. And finally, after plugging it all in, it was time to test it, and find out if it survived the trip. The TV had survived the trip. We knew exactly what we had to do next. Hook up a GameCube to the 480p VGA input and play some Super Smash Bros. Melee. The unboxing and setup was an absolute blast. I have the full video as bonus content on Patreon, Floatplane, and YouTube Membership. And finally, I lag tested the 480p input to confirm that it is, in fact, completely lag-free. But why on earth would this CRT have lag? This TV featured extremely sophisticated and advanced technology for the time that allowed it to frame buffer and deinterlace all standard definition 480i video into a 480p output for the screen. Video processing can improve an image, but it can also have the opposite effect. And worst of all, early video processors were notorious for adding lots of lag. But in addition to several standard definition 480i inputs, this TV has a single 480p VGA input. This 480p input bypasses the buffer circuitry and spits the unprocessed video signal out straight into the picture tube. No lag, no processing. A retro gamer's dream come true. I can even use modern lag-free external scalers to play 240p games or even run other 31kHz signals like 960i. A question I know many will have at this point is, does it work with lightgun games? And the answer to that is... Yes. Yes, it does. I was able to get Duck Hunt working by running it through a line doubler into the 480p input. To get it to work, I did have to turn up the brightness, though, as this CRT has an absurdly long phosphor decay. It's so hard to convey just how big this thing is on camera, so I thought I'd compare it to a few other CRTs. Here it is compared to the 27-inch CRT from before. The surface area is 153% larger, or over 2.5 times the size. Here it is compared to the world's smallest Trinitron, at 3.7 inches viewable. It is 12,556% larger. Here it is compared to the world's smallest color CRT, at 1.5 inches. It is 89,900% larger. And here is the world's largest CRT display compared to the world's smallest CRT display, a half-inch monochrome viewfinder. It is 809,000% larger. The KX45ED1 was sold in two variants, a base model and a premium model, with more bells and whistles. This is the fancy model, and the owner included all the original add-ons. This included the original shelf, the integrated TV tuner on a tray, and the detachable speakers. This TV is no joke. But why was it sitting on the second floor of a Soba restaurant? Who was the baller that bought it, why did they buy it, and how did it wind up on the second floor of that restaurant? I really needed to know. But before I asked for even more, I thought it was time to show some gratitude for the people on the other side of the world who helped make this happen. So I had my friend Alice, who has a YouTube channel of her own, 3D model the TV and stand, which she did in extraordinary detail. Then I 3D printed a few of them to send to Abibi, the original owner, in Chihiro. Abibi, the hero he is, then arranged an interview with the owner of Chikuma Soba to find out the juicy details of this TV's origin story. Around this time, the owner's dad met someone from Sony, and they became friends. I was surprised to hear that he had seen the discussion online surrounding the photo taken at the TV. Then we got to hear Operation Big Boy from his perspective. I am so happy we were able to save this TV, and it sounds like the owner was too. Sony put out some really crazy tech in the late 80s, and he really seemed to have an appreciation for it all. Even the president of Sony at the time understood just how special this TV was. So I went straight to the president and asked him to let me fix it. This TV really was a special piece of Sony's history, and an incredible feat of engineering. A promise like that from the president of Sony at the time really shows the pride they took in this product. But I wanted to know even more about this TV. Through lots of searching and a little bit of luck, I was able to find someone who I knew could tell me even more. A lead Trinitron engineer. He still works for Sony in his senior position, speaks English, and has given public talks on Sony's behalf. I found his LinkedIn and took my shot. To my surprise, he quickly responded and seemed quite eager and enthusiastic to talk to me about CRTs. Not only did he design many of the Trinitrons released during the same time period, he also knew the lead designer of the KX-45. The technology was obsolete, all patents had expired, and whatever trade secrets remained held no competitive utility. This was an incredible historic opportunity to archive Sony's legacy and historic dominance of the television market. However, the next day he informed me that a representative at Sony had informed him he was not allowed to do personal interviews with individuals. Only ones approved through corporate. Shortly afterward, my messages went unanswered. So, I had a new plan. Get in contact with Sony Corporate and turn my personal requests into a corporate one so he could talk with me. But unfortunately, all my emails to any public Sony email I could find went unanswered. I spent months going through every connection I had and could utilize and got nowhere. I never even got a no because I wasn't able to find someone to tell me no. No replies at all, and the messages I sent were probably never even read. So, unfortunately, despite my best efforts, I couldn't make that interview happen. This is why this video has taken so long. I spent well over a year attempting to find a way to make this interview happen. Maybe someday I'll meet someone who knows someone who knows someone at Sony PR that can make this happen. If anyone watching has connections, please shoot me an email. I'd love to follow up this video with an interview someday. While the CRT was fully working, it's over 30 years old, so it does have a few issues. The most noticeable issue is the convergence, as shown here. Essentially, the alignment of the red, green, and blue beams need to be dialed in to all strike the same spot. This can be tuned and fixed. Other aspects of the geometry like size, centering, and rotation also needed to be adjusted. These are easily fixable as well. However, the bad news is that this CRT has a mild case of CRT cataracts. On older CRTs, a big sheet of glass is glued to the front to protect the user in the case of a CRT implosion. Over time, this glue can decompose, change color, and or become delaminated. CRT cataracts can be cured, but it requires a very risky procedure that involves a lot of heat. During the heating and removal, there's a good chance the CRT could implode, rendering the tube destroyed and completely unrepairable. Given that this very well may be the last one in existence and that it's not particularly noticeable during gameplay, I'm not going to risk destroying it by performing such a risky procedure. The other repairs are not risky at all, but to know what to adjust, we would need the service manual. During our digging for historical information, we came across a forum post from 2005 by an individual making some bold claims. Not only did this Charles claim to have seen the TV in person back in the day, he also claimed to have a copy of the service manual. With some internet stalking, we found an email and I shot him a message. To my surprise, he replied the next day, claiming to still have it. Even more wild, he lived less than an hour away. We met up shortly afterward and boom, service manual acquired. Pretty crazy coincidence, but I'll take it. I don't consider myself qualified to work on such a rare, possibly last-of-its-kind CRT on my own, so I was going to need help. I recruited some qualified members of the CRT community to fly down and help me tune the big boy up to its best self. First, there's Andy Gotza, a well-known member of the community for his digitizing experience and crazy hauls and adventures to broadcast studios across the country. Next, we have Rain, an international hobbyist in the community with both calibration and electrical engineering experience. Finally, we have Slick, a knowledgeable and well-respected monitor calibrating master. Slick is also the sole developer of Twilight Kingdom Saga, an early 2000s fantasy JRPG indie game currently in development. We spent several days, including one 17-hour marathon, dialing everything in the best we could, before we concluded that something just wasn't right. No matter how hard we tried, we couldn't get the geometry and convergence right. Finally, after countless hours of troubleshooting, we found out why. The dynamic convergence circuit, which dynamically compensates the convergence as the beam scans across the screen, had failed. Its job was to compensate, and it was compensating way, way too hard for us to uncompensate for. Although we narrowed down the problem area, Andy, Rain, and Slick had run out of time and had to fly back home. They were all extremely helpful in diagnosing and calibrating what could be done, but the work wasn't done yet. I still needed help fixing the dynamic convergence amplifier, and I couldn't do it alone. Luckily, Andrew from Andrew's Electronics, a 38-year-old pro who has been repairing vintage electronics since he was 9, was happy to help. He does repairs on pretty much everything, but old and obscure amplifier circuits like this one are his bread and butter. We meticulously removed, measured, tested, and replaced every necessary component in the dynamic convergence amplifier circuit. And after a few late nights, the dynamic convergence was finally working again. The TV was finally fully operational, but still needed more tuning. Shortly afterward, Agfa, another friend of mine in the CRT community, flew down to visit and help me tune it a little more. And although there's still improvements that can be made, it was looking worlds better than when I got it. And I gotta say, in person, this thing looks incredible. It's just so hard to explain how much bigger this TV is in person than it looks on camera. Playing games on it is just wild, and it makes my other 37-inch monitor feel tiny by comparison. Like, when playing a 4-player split-screen game, every person has the equivalent of a 21-inch monitor. It's just such a cool and unique experience. While many will erroneously claim to have the world's largest CRT, there is only one KX45ED1. So, remember at the beginning of this video, I talked about how this is like THE holy grail of the CRT collecting scene? Given that I now had it in my possession, and almost nobody in the scene knew yet, I had a wonderful, once-in-a-lifetime s**tposting opportunity. I wanted to see how the scene would react if the great white whale of the hobby fell into hands unworthy. So, I made a burner profile with a cringy but believable profile picture, joined a Facebook group, and started posting. What is the biggest cert ever made? Sony PBM4300 or the KX45ED1. Thanks, I'll get that one. No you won't. Buying PBM4300 KX45ED1 message me pls thanks. Y'all see that this guy wants to buy a PBM4300. Thanks for the help guys I found one. Is that what I think it is? Bruh is this an actual PBM4300? $100,000 TV with a cheap emulator and HDMI converter. I take it back join my discord. Friend request. Private message. Join my discord. I don't believe this set is yours. Join my discord. It doesn't look like 43 inches. Does the math. I love you. Tickle it's screen and give it treats. Well no wonder we're losing our s**t. This is the funniest setup ever. That thing will see nothing but HDMI to composite for the rest of it's life. As it was destined to be. He probably has no idea what he's found lol. TBDO's shank money. Fix the picture. Hook a real Nintendo to it. Where how what when Marie. Why in the hell are you using a cheap emulator and converter. Join my discord. Worse that's a Retron 5. I'm irrationally mad they have that TV with that quote console unquote. Anyone have a forklift I can borrow? Starting my heist plan. You son of a b***h if you've already had that 4300 for a couple weeks now and have just been setting up an elaborate troll. Then god damn that is the greatest setup and execution I have seen in 2 plus decades on the internet. Bravo. So there's one last story I'd like to tell you. And that's about our hero on the ground. A Bibi. He really was the boots on the ground that made all this happen. But who even is he? Without even knowing me or my channel. He volunteered to help a stranger. I knew he was a game developer but I didn't know much more than that. Well a few weeks after it all went down. Bayonetta Origins, Cereza and the Lost Demon was announced. And a Bibi as it's director. That's right. He made all this happen during the final months leading up to the release of a game he was directing. The game was a passion project that received critical praise but not as much attention as I think it deserved. I can't thank him enough. And if you think he's a hero too. Make sure to go follow him and let him know. Making this video happen was really expensive and it took a lot of work. I still cannot believe I was able to find this massive mythical TV and move it halfway across the world. I've also reached out to other members of the CRT scene to visit to take photos and videos of their own. So expect to see more from this TV on other channels and around the internet in the coming months. The KX-45 ED-1 is truly a special piece of history and I want to do what I can to preserve and share it. Thank you so much for watching and making this possible. And I will see you next project.