Bad Daddy Network is an apocalypse-preparedness collective — technically, a dads' club — headquartered in a garage in Bad Bodendorf. When the cloud goes down for good, we'll have all of it saved on a deeply suspicious number of hard drives, powered by enthusiasm, mineral water, and one very reliable extension cord.
Real-time health of every node still switched on. "Enterprise-grade redundancy" here means all six of us have the exact same files and refuse to admit it.
Four services. One boat's worth of hard drives. Zero satellites — although we do own a very good ladder.
Every website, every forum argument, every 20-minute video on how to fix a dishwasher. If it existed online, it's now saved, boxed, and — crucially — labelled.
Films, albums, and every match ever played. Sorted, backed up, and defended with unusual passion in the group chat at eleven at night.
The single most important archive we hold. Forty thousand messages. Three are useful. All of them preserved for future generations, whether they want them or not.
When the phone lines fall, we reach you by walkie-talkie, by garden fence, and — in a true crisis — by simply shouting over the hedge until someone answers.
A volunteer network operations team assembled entirely at a barbecue. No CVs were requested. One brought snacks and was immediately made a director.
Started the whole thing. Reversing champion three years running. His authority derives entirely from the fact that it's his shed.
Once fixed the Wi-Fi and has referenced it in every conversation since. Owns cables he cannot identify but will not discard.
The only member permitted near the coals. Considers a meat thermometer a personal insult. Backups pause when he cooks.
Owns the label maker. Has labelled the label maker. If it holds data, he has already put a sticker on it. A quiet hero.
Personally responsible for archiving 4,000 songs, of which 3,900 are by the same six bands. Manages morale via speaker.
Joined last spring. Brought crisps. Was promoted to Head of Logistics on the spot. Still not entirely sure what the club does.
We call them the Dad Code. They are non-negotiable, occasionally contradictory, and enforced mainly through disappointed silence.
This is not up for debate. It is, once again, his shed.
Applies to the household and to the RAID array equally. You know the ones. Put them back.
All of them. Forever. The one from 2009 stays. You never know.
And not one minute before. Priorities are priorities.
Or the router. Or the grill. If you did not install it, do not adjust it.
It is, of course, also fully backed up in three locations. For safety.
Reserve your place on the network now, while the skies are clear and the servers are merely warm rather than fully on fire.