But then again, don't all gadgets technically fit that definition?
Good morning friends, my name is Mark Serrels. I am the Editor of Kotaku Australia and part of doing that job efficiently, to the best of my abilities, involves engaging with a variety of shiny new objects that you and your brethren refer to as 'gadgets'.
I love gadgets. Specifically I love gadgets that allow me to play video games. Xbox Ones, PlayStation 4s, iPhones, PS Vitas, 3DSs, Nexus 7s, laptops, desktops. I has them. I play with them. I enjoy them.
But the gadget I enjoyed using the most in 2013 — the one that gave me the most reward on a physical and neurological level — was bought in Rebel Sports for, bloody hell I can't remember, roughly $40? Maybe it was cheaper, I didn't keep the receipt. I don't need it. There is no way I'm taking this bad boy back.
I don't even know what it is called specifically, because I threw out the box, but I can describe it simply so you, the reader, can become aware of what it is and what it does.
It is a chin up bar. It is a chin up bar that, instead of being fixed to the ground like any normal chin up bar, actually locks into just about any door frame you could name. It uses simple physics to distribute your weight across the joints of your door frame in such a way that it doesn't completely destroy your house, allowing you to do a variety of different exercises, which is cool.
I love the bastarding thing.
I bought this chin up bar with a dripping layer of cynicism. Literally dripping. You could see the cynicism. It took an actual physical form (cynicism looks like a mixture between saliva and really watery porridge — it tastes bad). I bought it because it was cheap and I wanted to find a way to do pull ups in my own home without busting the bank.
I own the apartment I live in and the first time I set this gadget up — the first time I locked it into place and pulled my full weight against it — I was terrified. I pulled gingerly and grimaced. I was so certain that, five seconds later, I would be part of what would look, feel and sound like a Three Stooges sketch. My door frame would collapse, the ceiling would crumble and I would emerge, face covered in soot with birdies tweeting around my skull and a 'I GUESS I JUS' DUN' GOOFED' expression on my face.
But no. It held. And not only did it hold, it felt ridiculously secure.
I don't have much trust in the structural integrity of my apartment, particularly its door frames, but goddamn if this little chin-up bar doesn't distribute my weight in an efficient, safe manner. Goddamn.
So yeah, it's 2014. If you've made yourself some kind of New Year's Resolution like, 'THIS IS MY YEAR DAMMIT, I'M GOING TO GET RIPPED' you could do a lot worse than this. I do pull ups on this fairly frequently, but the bar can also be used to partake in multiple different core workouts like levers and suchlike. I thoroughly recommend it.