Joyful Tools
How Delightful Design Elevates Creators
Some tools are powerful. Others are beautiful. But every now and then, you find a tool that's just so delightful to use, it makes you want to create. They don't just perform tasks. They invite exploration, spark curiosity, and gently nudge us into flow. Let me tell you about the joy of using a tool that feels right.
May 2025
I really wanted to like the Yamaha PSS-A50 but it just doesn't bring me any joy. But I do actually love using the Teenage Engineering OP-Z!
These days, I'm learning to make music. I'm still quite terrible at it. I don't know music theory, my rhythm is shaky, and most of what I produce sounds like a robot trying to whistle. But I'm in love with the process. And more importantly, I've discovered something: the tools you use matter. Not just in terms of what they can do, but in how they make you feel when you use them.
Let me give you an example.
I have a Yamaha PSS-A50 synthesizer keyboard. It's technically capable, relatively affordable, and well-reviewed. But I don't like using it. It feels like work. I recently treated myself to a Teenage Engineering OP-Z, a toy-like, plastic synthesizer, sequencer, and sampler all rolled into one. It's tiny. Its keys don't resemble anything you'd call a "real" keyboard. And I absolutely love it.
Despite not knowing how to use either instrument properly, the OP-Z makes me want to experiment. It invites me to tinker, to play, to discover. The Yamaha, on the other hand, sits quietly and dutifully on my desk, waiting to be useful. It's the difference between a tool that permits creativity and one that pulls creativity out of you.
The OP-Z is a wonderful little machine precisely because it doesn't try to impress with spectacle. It simply invites you to create. Its minimal design and button-based interface might seem cryptic at first. Yet everything flows with surprising ease, once you get the hang of it. You can sequence tracks, tweak effects, and sample sounds, all without breaking the rhythm of your work. Tactile, intuitive control that encourages experimentation! The OP-Z is a tool that gets out of the way, quietly empowering you to focus entirely on the music.
This isn't just about music. It's something I've felt over and over across many tools in my life.
Procreate on the iPad is just delightful!
The Delight of Frictionless Drawing
Take drawing, for instance. I have an iPad Pro and use Procreate with the Apple Pencil. Procreate is not the most feature-rich illustration app on the market. Adobe Photoshop, Clip Studio Paint, and others far exceed it in terms of power. But Procreate is joyful. It gets out of my way. It delights. It makes me want to draw, to invent, to sketch strange little comics even when I have no plan. It turns the act of creating into something light and frictionless.
It's hard to pinpoint a single reason why Procreate feels so wonderful to use, because it gets so many things right at once. The user interface is elegantly minimal, with only the essentials like a toolbar at the top and one at the side. You get your main image functions, brushes and layers along the top. The brush size, transparency, and a single action button Are on the left-hand side. Undo and redo are placed below. Despite its clean appearance, Procreate offers a robust set of tools: a vast selection of brushes, powerful layer and blend modes, and a brilliant feature that automatically records your drawing process into a time-lapse video. It's just perfect for sharing tutorials or speed-drawing reels without needing to plan ahead.
What truly sets Procreate apart is how fluid and responsive it feels. Brush strokes are instant and satisfying, zooming in and out is effortless, and every interaction keeps you focused on your work. Need to pick a color? Just tap and hold anywhere and Procreate grabs it (even across layers). Want to undo? A quick two-finger tap and you're back a step. You can jump into menus, but most of the time, you don't have to. It's this sense of immediacy that makes Procreate so exceptional. The tool melts away and lets your work emerge.
Or digital note-taking. I've used several e-ink tablets: the Onyx Boox Tab Ultra, the Kindle Scribe, the reMarkable 2. The Onyx is the most powerful by far. It runs Android and has access to the Play Store. The Kindle has Amazon's entire ecosystem at its back. But it's the reMarkable 2 that makes me want to write. The software is focused and elegant. Its "infinite canvas" lets me keep going without flipping pages. That single feature, that small feeling of flow, is the difference between "I should take some notes" and "I can't wait to jot this down."
And taking notes on a Remarkable 2 is also delightful!
Another tool that left a lasting impression on me, long before iPads and e-ink tablets, was NeoChrome on the Atari ST. By today's standards, it's laughably simple: freehand drawing, line and shape tools, fill, copy and paste. That's pretty much it. But what it lacked in power, it made up for in charm.
NeoChrome on the Atari ST. Source: Screenshot
What made NeoChrome special was its feel. There was an elegant, frictionless rhythm to using it. The interface was clean and friendly. And right in the middle of the tool palette was a tiny, always-on magnifying glass. You didn't have to click anything or dig through menus to zoom in. It was just there, helping you nudge pixels exactly where you wanted them. It made pixel art feel precise, immediate, and fun. It made drawing feel human.
Sure, there were more advanced paint programs on the Atari ST, ones that offered a wider variety of tools, could handle more colors and wilder effects. But I kept coming back to NeoChrome because it was joyful. It didn't distract or overwhelm. It invited you to sit down and make something, no instruction manual required.
And you know what's even better than using NeoChrome in emulation? Using it on a real Atari ST. In 2019, I drew a five page comic on an old Atari Mega STE. You can find my little project report here: Pixeling in the Retrosphere: Creating a Comic on 1980s Hardware.
The Delight of a Light MacBook
The same goes for computers. I've used Macs for years. My day job provides me with a 16-inch M3 MacBook Pro. It is fast, spacious, and absolutely excellent for demanding tasks. But when I'm on the move, I reach for my 13-inch M1 MacBook Air. It's small. Light. Quiet. I can work anywhere without back strain or fan noise. It feels intimate, almost like it's mine in a way the larger machine isn't. Years ago, I had a 12" MacBook with a single USB-C port. It was underpowered, sure. But I took it everywhere. A tool that's always with you will get used more than one that stays on a desk.
This isn't about specs. It's about feel. Tools can be technically equivalent, but their design, their character, and their playfulness can make all the difference.
Recently, I watched a video about Stradivari violins. They're the most expensive violins in the world, even though blind tests don't consistently show that they sound better than other high-end violins. But there's something else going on. When a maestro plays a Stradivarius, they seem to glow. Their passion ignites. Their performance sharpens. Not because the instrument is louder or clearer, but because it gives them joy. It connects to their craft on a deeper level.
I'm not a maestro. I'm someone taking baby steps into music. But I feel a kinship. Because I know what it's like to touch a tool and feel invited. To use something that whispers: "Let's play."
When the tool feels right, it doesn't just serve creators. It elevates them. It opens a door to flow, to expression, to joy. And in the end, that's often more powerful than any feature list or benchmark score.
That said, I still think Stradivaris are wildly overpriced. Yes, they're exquisite, yes, they inspire greatness but let's be honest, they cost more than a small house and don't even come with Bluetooth. Delight in a tool doesn't have to come from a luxury price tag. In fact, the joy fades pretty quickly if you're too afraid to scratch the thing. A great tool doesn't need to be expensive; it just needs to make you want to use it. So while I admire the maestros and their million-euro instruments, I'll stick with my plastic OP-Z and my scuffed-up MacBook Air. They make me want to create... and that's the real magic.