Latest news with #smallTown
Washington Post
18-07-2025
- General
- Washington Post
Miss Manners: Fellow customer usurped my conversation with a local proprietor
Dear Miss Manners: I need to know if I am justified in feeling miffed. Let me set the scene: I was the second of three people waiting in line to pay for our purchases at a local shop in our small town. The proprietor was the cashier, known to all of us.
Washington Post
08-07-2025
- General
- Washington Post
Carolyn Hax: How to fix dull life with incurious spouse — but not blow it all up
Adapted from an online discussion. Dear Carolyn: I'm in a dead-end job — adjunct teaching — in a smallish town married to a person who has lost all his curiosity, and we have kids. I don't know how to fix any of it: I'm not going to get hired full time, since they hire Ivy grads for full-time tenure-track jobs. I don't know how to make my spouse curious and have intellectually stimulating conversations with him again — our schedules misalign, and he plays a lot of video games. The kids are grand, and I love them to pieces, but it often feels like all I do is feed/launder/ferry them around.
The Guardian
01-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Cute dates, bisexual chaos and game-changing kisses: video games' best queer moments
Life Is Strange, as a series, is really characterised by a patented mix of earnestness and cringe for me – but you can't fault its determination to put queer characters front and centre. It has been variably successful at this – the messy relationship between shy, photography-obsessed Max and chaotic blue-haired Chloe in 2015's original Life Is Strange was left somewhat ambiguous, but Alex Chen in Life Is Strange: True Colors was openly bi and pretty laidback about it. My favourite queer moment from the series, though, came in last year's Double Exposure. Max Caulfield is now a grownup with a photography residency at a small-town college, and has finally figured herself out. She flirts confidently with Vince, the handsome but terrible it-boy on campus. But when it comes to Amanda, the exceedingly cool lesbian behind the bar at the local pub? She is so awkward it's painful. I loved this because it is my firm personal belief that all bisexual people are both terrified by and attracted to cool lesbians. If you get to the point when you take Amanda on a date, you are treated to one of the sweetest scenes I've ever seen in a game: they go to an imaginary gig. The women riff off each other, conjuring the most chaotic show imaginable with words and laughter. It is, along with Nathan Drake and Elena playing Crash Bandicoot together in Uncharted 4, the most believable relationship scene in games. (And yes, even after the date goes really well, Max still hesitates over kissing her.)Keza MacDonald, the Guardian's video games editor It has to be the relationship between Ellie and Dina in The Last of Us Part II. I know this one gets a lot of attention, but it's for good reason. There are so few queer stories in media that don't revolve around traumatic experiences. Acknowledging the struggles of any marginalised group is vital to sharing that perspective – but so is highlighting the joy. I think it's incredible that, in a game that deals with such heavy themes and tragic character development, these two were allowed to experience a joyful, supportive relationship. They could be people with flaws who made choices, instead of being defined solely by their queerness. The evolution of the narrative and eventual conflict between them was the result of Ellie's choices and actions – which made the story that much more impactful to Hufford, producer of (and voice of Ducky in) Date Everything!, out now When I was a teenager, I came across this game called Fable. I played through the tutorial. I wanted to spice it up. I used a cheat engine. I made my character really buff. It felt a little … wrong. Not because I cheated. But because I didn't look like that. Does this character still represent me? Am I allowed to do this? > Don't know. I got to the first town. I came across a merchant. I bought out everything he had. I regifted everything back to him. I saw a heart begin to form. Can I … really do this? > Guess so. I gave him the wedding ring. We got gay-married. We moved into this house I bought. And then I never touched the game again. – I was a closeted teenager. Everyone around me knew. Everyone but me of course. I was a chubby little kid. Everyone around me knew. And everyone kept reminding me. I can't help but laugh. Guilty for being swole in-game. But never for being gay-married. Funny how a teenage mind Boozayaangool of Tan Ant Games, developer of Building Relationships, out later this year My love for queer games exists at two ends of a spectrum. At one end is 'beautifully done nuance and subtlety' and at the other is 'delightful, wilful chaos'. This feels in keeping with being a gender-wobbly bisexual. In the realm of nuance and subtlety, my earliest love was playing Gone Home, and the slow discovery of your sister Sam's queerness, and the catharsis of her getting to live her life authentically after rejection by her parents. Then there was Unpacking, about making space for a new partner after the nightmare that was trying to fit your things around a boyfriend who wouldn't budge. Or most recently, there was the (spoiler alert) very natural growth of Henry and Hans's relationship in Kingdom Come: Deliverance II, which has to be one of the most beautifully written romances in games in years. Of course, on the other side of the coin is mischief and honesty. Thirsty Suitors captures the messiness and interconnectedness of queer dating, and the fallout that can occur when someone is still figuring themselves out. When it comes to my own game, Crescent County, we absolutely come down on the side of chaos. There is often pressure to perform 'perfect' queer representation, but that robs characters of their bite and humanity. I completely understand the draw of pure wholesomeness, but we shouldn't sanitise ourselves for the sake of acceptability!Anna Hollinrake, creative director of Crescent County, out next year The thing about a lot of queer moments in the video game era I grew up in – which my child loves to refer to as 'the late 1900s' (my bones are dust) – is that it was the villains who were queer coded. Wholesome queer moments were as rare as a writer who can come up with a new and original 'as rare as' simile. That's why I loved Unpacking so much. On the face of it, the game is simply about unpacking your belongings as you move from place to place, but it's a masterpiece of show-not-tell. You move out of your parents' house, get room-mates, and eventually move in with your boyfriend, who immediately minimises your space and self expression. At that point I yelled to my wife 'SHE'S GAY!' But I often do that with characters I like, so she took no note. However, I was right. As the game progresses she meets a new partner, grows closer to them, and eventually they have a child together and you're unpacking the baby's bedroom. It finishes with the most wholesome lesbian representation I've ever seen in a video creator of Quantum Witch, out now
The Guardian
30-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Cute dates, bisexual chaos and game-changing kisses: video games' best queer moments
Life Is Strange, as a series, is really characterised by a patented mix of earnestness and cringe for me – but you can't fault its determination to put queer characters front and centre. It has been variably successful at this – the messy relationship between shy, photography-obsessed Max and chaotic blue-haired Chloe in 2015's original Life Is Strange was left somewhat ambiguous, but Alex Chen in Life Is Strange: True Colors was openly bi and pretty laidback about it. My favourite queer moment from the series, though, came in last year's Double Exposure. Max Caulfield is now a grownup with a photography residency at a small-town college, and has finally figured herself out. She flirts confidently with Vince, the handsome but terrible it-boy on campus. But when it comes to Amanda, the exceedingly cool lesbian behind the bar at the local pub? She is so awkward it's painful. I loved this because it is my firm personal belief that all bisexual people are both terrified by and attracted to cool lesbians. If you get to the point when you take Amanda on a date, you are treated to one of the sweetest scenes I've ever seen in a game: they go to an imaginary gig. The women riff off each other, conjuring the most chaotic show imaginable with words and laughter. It is, along with Nathan Drake and Elena playing Crash Bandicoot together in Uncharted 4, the most believable relationship scene in games. (And yes, even after the date goes really well, Max still hesitates over kissing her.)Keza MacDonald, the Guardian's video games editor It has to be the relationship between Ellie and Dina in The Last of Us Part II. I know this one gets a lot of attention, but it's for good reason. There are so few queer stories in media that don't revolve around traumatic experiences. Acknowledging the struggles of any marginalised group is vital to sharing that perspective – but so is highlighting the joy. I think it's incredible that, in a game that deals with such heavy themes and tragic character development, these two were allowed to experience a joyful, supportive relationship. They could be people with flaws who made choices, instead of being defined solely by their queerness. The evolution of the narrative and eventual conflict between them was the result of Ellie's choices and actions – which made the story that much more impactful to Hufford, producer of (and voice of Ducky in) Date Everything!, out now When I was a teenager, I came across this game called Fable. I played through the tutorial. I wanted to spice it up. I used a cheat engine. I made my character really buff. It felt a little … wrong. Not because I cheated. But because I didn't look like that. Does this character still represent me? Am I allowed to do this? > Don't know. I got to the first town. I came across a merchant. I bought out everything he had. I regifted everything back to him. I saw a heart begin to form. Can I … really do this? > Guess so. I gave him the wedding ring. We got gay-married. We moved into this house I bought. And then I never touched the game again. – I was a closeted teenager. Everyone around me knew. Everyone but me of course. I was a chubby little kid. Everyone around me knew. And everyone kept reminding me. I can't help but laugh. Guilty for being swole in-game. But never for being gay-married. Funny how a teenage mind Boozayaangool of Tan Ant Games, developer of Building Relationships, out later this year My love for queer games exists at two ends of a spectrum. At one end is 'beautifully done nuance and subtlety' and at the other is 'delightful, wilful chaos'. This feels in keeping with being a gender-wobbly bisexual. In the realm of nuance and subtlety, my earliest love was playing Gone Home, and the slow discovery of your sister Sam's queerness, and the catharsis of her getting to live her life authentically after rejection by her parents. Then there was Unpacking, about making space for a new partner after the nightmare that was trying to fit your things around a boyfriend who wouldn't budge. Or most recently, there was the (spoiler alert) very natural growth of Henry and Hans's relationship in Kingdom Come: Deliverance II, which has to be one of the most beautifully written romances in games in years. Of course, on the other side of the coin is mischief and honesty. Thirsty Suitors captures the messiness and interconnectedness of queer dating, and the fallout that can occur when someone is still figuring themselves out. When it comes to my own game, Crescent County, we absolutely come down on the side of chaos. There is often pressure to perform 'perfect' queer representation, but that robs characters of their bite and humanity. I completely understand the draw of pure wholesomeness, but we shouldn't sanitise ourselves for the sake of acceptability!Anna Hollinrake, creative director of Crescent County, out next year The thing about a lot of queer moments in the video game era I grew up in – which my child loves to refer to as 'the late 1900s' (my bones are dust) – is that it was the villains who were queer coded. Wholesome queer moments were as rare as a writer who can come up with a new and original 'as rare as' simile. That's why I loved Unpacking so much. On the face of it, the game is simply about unpacking your belongings as you move from place to place, but it's a masterpiece of show-not-tell. You move out of your parents' house, get room-mates, and eventually move in with your boyfriend, who immediately minimises your space and self expression. At that point I yelled to my wife 'SHE'S GAY!' But I often do that with characters I like, so she took no note. However, I was right. As the game progresses she meets a new partner, grows closer to them, and eventually they have a child together and you're unpacking the baby's bedroom. It finishes with the most wholesome lesbian representation I've ever seen in a video creator of Quantum Witch, out now
The Guardian
25-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Chicken Town review – endearingly daft Fenland crime caper has a shedful of charm
There are echoes of Shane Meadows and the Coen brothers in this cheerful crime comedy set in the Fens in eastern England. It's endearingly daft and unexpectedly charming for a film about small-town drug dealers full of knob jokes – and contains no actual violence from criminals who are more crap than nasty. There are some sparky performances from the young cast, and it manages to pull off natural, easygoing laughs without the cringe that often seeps into British comedies. Ethaniel Davy is brilliant as Jayce, who has just been released from 10 months in a young offenders' institution – wrongly convicted for crashing a stolen car. Now that he's out, he wants answers. What everyone except Jayce knows is that it was his best mate Lee (Ramy Ben Fredj, also terrific) behind the wheel of the car. Lee is the heir to a battery-chicken farming empire with links to organised crime. His dad, Lee Sr, has just remarried and sent him to live in a caravan at the edge of the family estate. Lee Jr is thick and spoilt, an adult man with a toddler brain, but like everything in the film, rather sweet underneath it all. Meanwhile Jayce and his old schoolmate Paula (Amelie Davies) get roped into a drug deal, joining forces with retired busybody Kev (Graham Fellows). Kev has somehow (plot is not this film's strong point) ended up with a shed in his allotment full of high-quality weed. The unlikely friendship between the two kids and Kev gives the film some of its funniest lines. In Kev's front room, Paula is mesmerised by his carriage clock, a retirement present. 'Is it ironic?' she asks, genuinely curious. 'No, it's brass.' And the final moment of comedy, a scene involving a joke about Kev's 67-year-old bladder is priceless. This is a very likable film. Chicken Town is in UK cinemas from 27 June.
