In Lewis Packwood’s book *Curious Video Game Machines*, Voja Antonić shares the inspiring story of how he created a home computer and made the instructions available for anyone to build their own.
In the early 1980s, access to computers in Yugoslavia was extremely limited, primarily reserved for large institutions or companies. The high cost of importing home computers, like the Commodore 64, made it nearly impossible for regular citizens, as a law prohibited them from importing goods valued over 50 Deutsche Marks—given that the Commodore 64 retailed for over 1,000 Deutsche Marks at the time. For those determined enough, smuggling became the only alternative.
Feeling increasingly frustrated with these restrictive laws, engineer Vojislav “Voja” Antonić took action. “We had a public debate with politicians,” he recalls. “We tried to convince them to allow for more expensive items because it’s progress.” Unfortunately, their efforts were in vain, and the limit remained.
While vacationing with his wife in Risan, Montenegro, in 1983, Antonić began to ponder a solution. “I was trying to figure out how to create the simplest and cheapest possible computer in my spare time,” he admits with a chuckle. “Everyone thinks it’s an interesting story, but honestly, I was just bored!” He considered building a computer without a graphics chip, known as a “video controller” at the time.
Typically, computers and consoles contain a CPU to perform calculations and a separate video controller to generate images. For instance, the Atari 2600’s CPU is the MOS Technology 6507 chip, alongside the TIA (Television Interface Adaptor) as its video controller. However, Antonić theorized that he could repurpose part of the CPU to generate a video signal, along with employing software to handle other video functions. This approach would sacrifice some processing capability but would ultimately make the computer far more affordable.
“I was eager to test it,” Antonić says. Upon his return, he quickly assembled a prototype—and to his delight, it worked! His innovative thinking had paid off.
He began to wonder if others might want to build their version of the computer, although he couldn’t have predicted the far-reaching consequences of that thought. “Everything that happened thereafter was not my doing, but thanks to clever journalists who knew how to tell a good story,” he shares.
Journalist Dejan Ristanović, who wrote for the scientific magazine *Galaksija* (translated as *Galaxy*), met with Antonić during the summer of 1983. Ristanović was intrigued by Antonić’s budget-friendly computer design. At that time, Yugoslavia lacked homegrown computing magazines, but *Galaksija* covered matters related to science, so the editors decided to feature Antonić’s project in a special 100-page spinoff named *Racunari u vasoj kuci* (Computers in Your Home).
This magazine would offer detailed guidelines for readers to build their version of Antonić’s computer. Though there was no name for it yet, they settled on “Galaksija” in homage to the magazine. Collaborating with Ristanović and editor Jova Regasek, they refined the design and crafted the instructions. Readers could acquire a self-assembly kit from a Croatian firm containing all necessary components, sourced from Austria and within Yugoslavia. They could also send in their EPROMs to have them preloaded with *Galaksija BASIC* and a limited character set—upper-case letters only, due to space constraints.
The first issue of *Racunari u vasoj kuci* was dated January 1984, but it hit newsstands in December 1983. Antonić and Ristanović anticipated only a few hundred would request a kit, but the initial print run of 30,000 copies quickly sold out, prompting multiple reprints. In total, around 100,000 copies circulated. “We received over 8,000 letters from people who built Galaksija,” Antonić recalls. “I was astonished by the sheer volume of correspondence—I never imagined it. That’s when I realized something incredible was happening.”
An interesting aspect of the Galaksija kit is that it didn’t include a case. Some users creatively crafted their own from metal or wood, while many Galaksijas remained “naked.” Thus, no two machines looked alike.
Boosting the Galaksija’s visibility was Zoran Modli, who hosted a program titled *Ventilator 202* on Radio Belgrade. Jova Regasek pitched the idea of broadcasting programs compatible with the Galaksija and other home computers, such as the ZX Spectrum and Commodore 64. Users could load software onto their Galaksijas using audio cassette tapes. Modli would play the programming sounds live on air, allowing listeners to record them for later use—essentially a precursor to wireless downloads.
In the following years, computer interest skyrocketed in Yugoslavia. Ironically, the Galaksija’s success underscored the need for access to more advanced computers, which led authorities to relax import regulations. Only a year after *Racunari* debuted, the 50 Deutsche Mark limit was increased, a change that coincidentally allowed citizens to purchase more powerful brands like the Sinclair ZX Spectrum. “I believe my invention of the Galaksija had a hand in changing the law,” Antonić states, “though I can’t prove it. It’s just my belief.”
With the introduction of stronger computers like the ZX Spectrum, Galaksija began to lose its appeal. “Galaksija was doomed from the start,” Antonić laments. “People only laughed, saying, ‘Now I have a computer that’s 1,000 times more powerful than Galaksija!’” The limited software library, primarily created by hobbyists, didn’t aid the machine’s cause either.
“Shortly after the Galaksija launched, war broke out in Yugoslavia,” Antonić notes. “Survival became everyone’s priority.” The early 1990s saw the violent disintegration of Yugoslavia and the ensuing wars, coupled with economic collapse and rampant hyperinflation, resulting in a 2-million dinara bill in 1989—and eventually a 500-billion dinara bill in 1993 that had little value.
During this tumultuous period, Antonić focused on anti-war articles and continued tinkering with the Galaksija and other projects. “I worked on them as a hobby,” he says. “I was quite poor and earning little, but I enjoyed it.” Amid the chaos, the Galaksija faded into obscurity; Antonić discarded the original prototypes and documentation, believing they would hold no interest.
However, interest in the Galaksija revived in the late 2000s and 2010s. “A renaissance of hardware began,” he explains. “People started discovering old computers. I can’t fully explain why, but it’s fantastic to witness how much attention the Galaksija is receiving now!”
Computers like the Galaksija not only invoke nostalgia for those who remember their inception, but they also educate younger generations about the history of computing and the myriad innovations that have shaped our current technology landscape. The Galaksija, in particular, serves as a bridge to a bygone era and its unique social dynamics.
Antonić has found the resurgence of interest in the Galaksija to be deeply gratifying. “It’s healing,” he reflects. “If I was hurt in the 90s, I feel healed now. I receive countless emails from people in the U.S., Germany, and Australia expressing their gratitude for how I influenced their lives at a pivotal moment.”
Five years ago, Antonić relocated to Pasadena, California, where he has been embraced by the tech community in Silicon Valley. He donated a Galaksija computer to the Computer History Museum in Mountain View and regularly contributes to the hardware hacking website Hackaday. Despite being 69, he shows no signs of slowing down. “I’m still active, working here in Pasadena,” he asserts. “Retirement isn’t on my mind; I hope to delay it for as long as possible. I feel like I’m getting paid for what I used to do for free decades ago, and now I’m recognized for it.”
Voja Antonić’s legacy is indeed remarkable. By crafting a functional and innovative machine from virtually nothing, he has introduced computers to an entire generation, forever altering the lives of many.
