When James and I launched our old-timey, time-traveling, library-promoting radio serial back in 2005, we didn’t really know what we were doing. I mean, we knew how to write and make funny voices and cue up sound effects, sure, but when it came to the technical side of things we were in the dark. I launched our podcast, shortly after Apple introduced the term to me, with a hand-coded test-XML document that I uploaded to my college’s blog server. When the test worked, I was too afraid too mess something up to stop and rethink how we would actually approach this thing.
One thing led to another. Years passed, and as our list of episodes grew to hearty numbers (filled with arbitrary seasons and inconsistent studio & live releases), our podcast feed became a mysterious machine, like an Antikythera mechanism or a Roomba. It worked right up until it didn’t anymore. Suddenly, the server that hosted our audio files started breaking. Then my college upgraded their blogging software, leaving me without a way to edit the podcast feed itself. It was adrift at sea (like Open Water).