The sequential update of the OS version just took a turn and now we have the next years number as the os number. So this 26 lineup from apple has brought new UI called Liquid Glass.
Apple has now synced all its operating system version numbers. MacOS 26, iOS 26, iPadOS 26, watchOS 26, and visionOS 26 giving everything a cleaner, unified lineup.
But what really stands out is the Liquid Glass design language, Apple’s bold new way to interact with its OS. It features real-time transparency rendering, adding depth and smooth motion across system elements.
Apple has redesigned macOS before, but never without consequence. The System 6 to System 7 era brought color UI for the first time. Then came the Platinum UI in Mac OS 8 and 9, which gave Classic Mac a sleek, metallic interface with soft gradients and rounded controls.
But the real leap was in 2001, when Apple introduced Aqua UI alongside Mac OS X. With its water-like buttons, translucent effects, Brushed metal window borders and animated interface, Aqua marked the beginning of modern macOS visuals.
Now, in macOS 26, we’re seeing another leap, the Liquid Glass UI. But this one feels different. It’s not just visual, it’s structural. I can’t help but compare it to the transformation seen in Windows Vista or Windows 7. It’s bold, layered, and ambitious.
Looking back, macOS Sequoia (15) had surprisingly wide compatibility supporting Intel Macs all the way back to 2017. But now, with macOS Tahoe (26), that list has shrunk drastically.
It feels a lot like what happened on the iPhone side where iOS 18 was announced as the final update for iPhone X. That same moment has finally reached long-time Intel Mac users.
Most MacBook Pros, iMacs, and Mac Pros from 2020, even high-end ones with 9th and 10th gen Intel CPUs — are now left behind. Notably, no MacBook Airs, Mac minis, or even iMac Pros make the cut.
What’s interesting is that Apple didn’t just look at CPU generation (many of which are still powerful like the i9 iMacs from 2019) — but rather focused on the year of release. So even though you might have a high-spec Intel machine, if it came out before 2020, Tahoe won’t support it.
That brings us to a passionate and niche group of users — the Hackintosh community — those who built their own Macs out of PC hardware.
Building a Hackintosh was never easy. Fixing one thing often broke another. But over the years, the process became smoother, thanks to tools like OpenCore and support from communities like r/hackintosh, r/hackintoshvanilla, and r/Opencore.
Still, every new macOS release brings anxiety. After macOS Ventura, many posts on Reddit reflected concern that the end was near. And now, with macOS Tahoe, that concern feels real.
The Hackintosh scene always revolved around keeping up — and OpenCore kept pace, releasing beta support like v1.0.5, often within minutes of each macOS beta dropping. Users rushed to post their successful Tahoe installs even as the official hardware support vanished.
But as Apple officially sunsets Intel Macs, Hackintosh users are now living on the edge of support. The once-vibrant scene is facing what can only be described as a slow, quiet farewell. Config.plist tuning, which once felt like a puzzle worth solving, now feels like preserving a dying art.
For many, this isn’t just about compatibility — it’s the end of an era. A loss of control. A fading hope. The kind of feeling that hits hardest not with a bang, but in the silence that follows a final boot.
Before things got smooth, there was chaos — the Clover bootloader dominated the early days of Hackintosh. Clover worked, but it often felt like balancing a house of cards.
Around 2019, a new method appeared: OpenCore. At first, users were skeptical. It introduced a stricter, more modular structure. You couldn’t just throw together kexts and pray — your config.plist had to be clean and logical.
What made OpenCore even more remarkable was its unexpected flexibility. While Hackintosh originally focused on mimicking Intel Macs, OpenCore’s patching system eventually made it possible to run macOS on AMD Ryzen CPUs — giving rise to the term Ryzentosh.
With the right kernel patches and fake CPU IDs, Ryzen-based builds could achieve performance and stability once thought impossible. Tools like ProperTree and the Dortania AMD Guide gave users a clear roadmap, and the Ryzentosh scene became a thriving offshoot of the Hackintosh world.
For the first time, even users with non-Intel PCs could join the macOS experiment — and it worked surprisingly well.
But with tools like Sanity Checker, ProperTree, and the incredibly detailed Dortania Guide, OpenCore slowly became the gold standard. It was the Hackintosh Bible for a few solid years. Later on, GUI tools like OpenCore Configurator and OC Auxiliary Tools made entry smoother for beginners.
I joined this scene around macOS High Sierra (2017), just before Catalina. I was a bit late, but even then, the community felt alive — full of energy, hope, and endless troubleshooting.
As a homelab enthusiast, Hackintosh was more than just getting macOS to run. It was about control. Tinkering. Pushing boundaries. I wasn’t buying a Mac — I was building one, piece by piece, and understanding every line of code that made it boot.
And thanks to OpenCore’s steady improvements over the years — especially after 2020 — the experience actually became smooth. Creating an EFI wasn’t a painful ritual anymore. It became… enjoyable. Clean. Predictable.
But now, as Apple moves to a closed Hardware + Software ecosystem, and Intel Macs officially meet extinction, the Hackintosh dream is fading.
Still, for many of us, it wasn’t just about running macOS. It was about owning the process — and proving that we could. That spirit doesn’t end with Tahoe. It just evolves.