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Movies based video games have a fraught past. From the goofy live action Mario Bros movies to the more modern and highly divisive Assassins Creed film, the level of success has not been high or constant for that matter. For the piece you could research a short history of some prominent video films and their failings, as well as any successful video game films, and give some insight on why the movie industry has such a strong disconnect from the gaming world.

Is it because studio execs don't think the gaming community wants movies based on their games? And do they?

How does this relationship compare to the relationship between books and film? Why is it so easy to adapt a book but not a video game into film?

One could be quick to jump to the idea that it's simply economics: studios don't think the video game adaptations will make money. But this all changes in 2020, with the video game market being worth more than film and sports as of recently. Video games are where the money seems to be, so why aren't these films put in the right hands with the right funding?

Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead have been making horror films for almost a decade. At least, that's how their films are classified. Upon watching them, there aren't any jump scares, no masked killers, no creepy asylums, nothing like that. Instead, in their films Resolution, Spring, and The Endless, a large part of the running time consists of characters discussing their complicated feelings towards their situation, while the horror quietly unfolds in the background, leading to works that feel like they're about ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances. With thick atmosphere and deep writing, the filmmakers instead seem to make other genre films with horror elements. Resolution is a character drama, Spring is a romance, and The Endless is science fiction, but all three have horror undoubtedly featured. Try to explore why each film might be called horror, and also why they might avoid the label. Also some points to keep in mind are how the character arcs are informed by the horror parts of the narrative, how the directors are able to maintain a grip on atmosphere, and why the scarier elements are essential to the development of the plot.

'60s and Mid '70s films made during the Conspiracy Thriller boom such as Manchurian Candidate (1962), Parallax View (1974), All the President's Men (1976), and Stepford Wives (1975) seem to coordinate a critique or valorization of specifically American contexts. Manchurian Candidate demonstrates a stunning loss of American wartime innocence and domestic conspiracy in the same year John F. Kennedy was assassinated, resulting in the film being pulled from theatrical release. The Parallax View takes the notion of an American working against his/her own people a step further by enlisting an actual domestic cabal pulling the strings behind a patsy. All the President's Men brings this fear of local threats home (literally and figuratively) with a very accurate retelling of the Watergate Scandal, a scheme that went right to the Oval Office. The purpose of this essay would be to select two to three of these films and identify what conventions used within these films spoke to an American context, and if possible, find what these films critiqued about American society in greater detail and how these concerns are relevant today. Some of the conventions include themes, characters, locations, symbols, and color coordination.

Ebooks, despite being easier to access, quicker to arrive, sometimes cheaper, and easier to store than physical books, have never managed to outsell physical books. In fact, they do not even come close. Explore the possible reasons why this might be the case: material nature of print, satisfaction of flipping a page, ability to show books off, an examination of the differences between platforms (Kobo, Kindle, etc.), e-platforms (Kindle app, Google Play Store, etc.), and file types viability (epub, pdf, etc.), and the aesthetic/artistic parts of the physical book.

Article about ebook sales: (link) you prefer reading an,print on paper still wins.&text=“The book lover loves to,the rest of the world.

For many sitcoms, including applause and laughter after every punchline is something of a staple. Laugh tracks, or 'canned laughter,' have been used in comedic television programmes for decades. However, many shows are also filmed in front of a live studio audience to produce the same effect.
Evaluate the impact that filming before a live studio audience has on the programmes which use them. Moreover, how does this compare to the artificial laugh track? Is real laughter better than fake laughter? Or, are the criticisms ultimately the same? Such criticisms could include that the laughter is forced for unfunny jokes, it breaks the fourth wall, or it unsettles the timing of a show
When building an argument, specific examples of T.V. shows should be discussed. The writer should choose specific scenes to analyse in order to demonstrate how they have been directly impacted by the choice to film in front of a live audience, and how their reactionary noises are used within the show. Try to limit the amount of personal opinion here, and have your argument based solely upon the artistic criticism of the shows themselves.

Analysis on the joys and failings of the reboot, addressing all female reboots, sequals, or revivals, such as Oceans 8, Gilmore Girls Revival, Twin Peaks revival, etc. It is easy to be swept up in the excitement on nostalgia, but it often doesn't deliver. Lets look at why we cant always take that fuzzy feeling to the bank, by observing the box office reports as well as the public response and universal criticisms found in most of these films.

In the film True History of the Kelly Gang, a fictional take on the outlaw Ned Kelly’s life, relations between Britain and members of the Commonwealth (in this case, Australia and Ireland in the 1870s) play a central role. Themes of displacement begin with Ned’s Irish-born parents’ (especially his mother’s) sense of alienation in Australia and distaste for anything that reeks of British influence. This feeling continues with Ned’s propulsion into the role of “man of the house” when his father dies and then when his mother secretly attempts to sell him into servitude for some quick money. Derision of authority figures partially stems from forced separation from or abandonment by one’s home (whether it is one’s country or familial circle).

In connection with relations between nations of different power dynamics, gender plays an important role here as well. Despite the reluctance to perform an expected role, there is a strong male desire to be powerful enough to defend female honor from outsiders (i.e. the sexual exploitation of Ned’s mother and sister) that culminates in the Kelly Gang’s string of police-related murders. Ned is encouraged to “Die a Kelly” and give up his own life for his mother, even if it is at the expense of his unborn child and its mother. Ned’s entry into gang life begins as a “Son of Sieve,” an Irish rebel who dons overtly feminine dresses into battle to appear crazy and, therefore, more frightening. By the end of the film, in contrast, Ned Kelly is finally captured after wearing heavy, uber-masculine “bulletproof” armor in a gunfight that results in the bloody massacre of his men.

What connections are made in the film between male and female dynamics and Britain’s relationship to members of the Commonwealth? How does simultaneous suicidal devotion to a reigning power and an internal aversion to fighting someone else’s battle with the promise of little to no personal benefit play out? What does the film have to say about these opposing tensions and their consequences within this fictionalized depiction of Ned Kelly?

Upon Œdipus’s self-imposed exile from Thebes for being the reason the city held a divine curse (on account of his marriage—unwittingly—to his mother Iocaste), his sons fight a civil war (Œdipus at Collonus) to determine who will rule Thebes. The result is that both sons kill each other by each other’s hand in battle. Creon becomes king (Antigone) and refuses burial of the rebellious son, and orders that anyone who would bury him to be executed. Antigone, the sister of the brothers, assisted by their sister Ismene, buries the body. Creon initially orders her imprisonment and execution. He vacillated at this decision but too late as Antigone and Ismene committed suicide to highlight Creon’s unjust actions.

Analyze how much of this is the result of Œdipus and why this is the result. Is it the result of Œdipus’ union with his mother? Or is it his curiosity (See Œdipus Rex)? In these plays, do the children suffer from the father’s sins, or are they the authors of their own tragedy? Bear in mind that the mindset of Ancient Greece held that any wrongdoing any person committed was under strict liability (intent does not matter; the act itself is good or evil). What kind of critique, if any, does the author Sophocles (a citizen of the Athenian Republic, which held the heart of Hellenic democracy) make of the rule of kings. Could this be a critique on the rule of the Spartans (Athens’s historic rival; a monarchy)?

Today, it's common for writers to use Meyers-Briggs, Kiersey, Enneagram, or another personality test metric to type their characters, or at least to determine how characters might act in certain situations. Even if writers don't consciously do this, their characters can often be "typed." For instance, many people discuss the Meyers-Briggs or other types of characters in popular series like The Hunger Games, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, and so on.

In exploring literature, what personality types do you think come up most or least, and why? For instance, do you think authors tend to create characters based on their own personalities? Are you attracted or repelled by certain types of characters–say, a bookish yet adventure-seeking character like Jane Eyre, vs. a "trickster," street smart character like the Artful Dodger?

Lolita, when it was published in 1955 (after much delay) was received by a hostile combination of abhorrent dismay and critical acclaim. Similarly, Salman Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses upon release in 1988 received both popular and critical praise but enraged a considerable portion of the Islamic community that resulted in a fatwa being placed on the author. More recently, the Netflix film Cuties was met with a #CancelNetflix response while the efficacy of the film’s intentions are still hotly debated. NITRAM, a film that explores the worst gun massacre in Australia’s history, has also faced significant objection.

These works are a small example of art that attempts to discuss problematic issues in the public domain. In varying degrees, they all portray uncomfortable representations of social problems. Where does the line lie with the representation of problematic themes in works of art? Does a work of art with the platform of Netflix have more of a responsibility to stay within the confines of non-controversy? Or, conversely, because of its platform, should this be the very arena that tackles problematic social issues?

An interesting angle for this article could be the role of cancel culture within the discussion. Do responses such as #CancelNetlfix inhibit the willingness of artists to attempt to tackle problematic issues and what is the consequence of this in broader social discourse?

The 1980s was a great decade for children's movies. From The Neverending Story to The Princess Bride, from Return to Oz to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, young audiences had all kinds of new cinematic stories to whet their appetites. Some movies, like ET and The Black Cauldron, went on to become classics (or "cult classics") and achieve great fame even if their initial box office performances were less than stellar.

However, the kids' movies of the 1980s are famous–or infamous–for scaring kids, too. On YouTube especially, but also other forms of social media, you can find detailed discussions of which films and moments from this decade were the scariest and what effects they might have had on kids. As adults, millennials might look back at these movies and wonder, "What were we, and our parents, thinking?" But we still hail these films as classics, and mainstays of the children's cinematic canon, so to speak.

Choose one, or perhaps two, of your favorite scary '80s movies for kids. What made them memorable? What made some scarier, thus "better" or "worse," than others? Has cinema "softened" too much toward kids since the '80s? If yes, what could it do to bring the edge back (do we need/want it)? Why do you think scary moments from kids' movies stick in our minds, and what would it take to create such memorable moments now?

The word Bildungsroman is often used interchangeably with the term coming-of-age when describing growth-oriented literature. However, they are not necessarily the same. A Bildungsroman text is one that focuses on the psychological growth of a character. It follows said character from youth to adulthood, especially as they find themselves in difficult situations. Coming-of-age, however, is more of a broad umbrella term for any story about growing up.

Through using one or more Bildungsroman and coming-of-age texts, the writer of this article could explore this difference. Some points to consider are the way a Bildungsroman is structured in four sections (loss, journey, conflict/growth, and maturity). Also, the way a Bildungsroman focuses on the entirety of youth, not just a small portion of it.

Conversely, the coming of age text chosen should be used to show the ways that it is different from a Bildungsroman (such as, for example, focusing on only a month or year of youth). An article explaining these differences, with examples, could be an informative and educational read.

Most games these days are released as either one finished piece at a final price or at an earlier stage at a reduced price. But occasionally – as with the newly rebooted Hitman trilogy – a finished game is instead divided into pieces and sold separately over a period of time, resulting in a sort of TV/Video Game hybrid wherein players experience shorter segments of gameplay over a long period of time. Could this style of release pose new creative opportunities for games, and if so, what might they be? Does a game have something to gain by releasing in this way?

Fiction loves a fat character…if that character is antagonistic and held up for ridicule or villainizing, that is. Antagonistic and fat characters can be found in all kinds of fiction, from Mr. Bumble in Oliver Twist, to Dudley Dursley in Harry Potter, to the sea witch in almost any form of The Little Mermaid, to (occasionally) the witch in Hansel and Gretel. To twist the knife further, these characters are often juxtaposed against "good," but malnourished and pitiable, characters from whom they take even the basic necessities (food).

Of course, there are some fat protagonists in classic literature or myths and fairytales, as well. Santa Claus, typically portrayed as fat, is a personification of goodness and charity. The Ghost of Christmas Present, when juxtaposed with the gaunt yet greedy Scrooge, is a reminder that "fat" can also be healthy, prosperous, and joyful. However, most fat characters tend to be either 100% good or 100% bad in "older" forms of literature.

In the last few years, authors have become more aware of these issues, and there are now more body-positive books, especially geared toward young women. However, some of them are not as positive as they seem. Dumplin', for example, stars Willowdean, a fat girl who competes in a beauty pageant to show she's worthy to…but then has to watch a "typical" contestant win. Watch Us Rise has Jasmine, a black girl who is put down and demonized for being both black and big. One Fat Summer has Bobby, who begins to find inner peace and acceptance by his social circle…after losing weight.

How has "fat phobia" in fiction evolved and changed? How is it influenced by how our modern society views body size? Throughout the article, you might explore questions such as, what size constitutes fatness, how fat characters could be represented as more three-dimensional, and whether stories about body size lend themselves to fat phobia or pigeonholing fatness by default.

The “artist”, the “creator”, as inherited from the Greek mythology and culture, is someone whose creative genius is inspired by the Gods or the Muses. There is something divine to it, something that transcends earthly concerns. Therefore, within the realm of art, any exterior and coercive influence is usually viewed as inherently bad or, at least, as suspicious.

It is particularly striking in the film industry, with the determining role of the studios. Some movies have several “cuts” because the original vision didn’t match the producers’ idea of the film, or the imposed length. (For instance, Blade Runner has been through seven different “cuts”, even though, today, the “director’s cut” is the most famous.) Actors’ demands or changes among creative teams, for instance, can also modify the original vision and first idea of a movie. Such mechanisms are particularly striking in the audiovisual, as the creating process is, from the beginning, plural. Yet, we can draw some parallels with the literary field, as well. Indeed, sometimes, some publishing houses may refuse a manuscript or impose drastic corrections.

However, on the other hand, some creators have been criticized for clinging too much to their work. For instance: the additions to the Harry Potter saga, J.K. Rowling made via Twitter. While some were globally well-received, others sparked controversy, whether because they were considered unneeded information, or because they felt like a desperate and clumsy attempt to debunk some small incoherence in the original saga. In the same way, many critics and viewers didn’t praise Ridley Scott’s attempt to, in a way, “regain control” of the Alien’s saga, with his two prequels: Prometheus and Alien Covenant.

Viewers, then, also have power over artistic creation. Their expectations and hopes can influence the way a show is written. And if those expectations are ignored or badly handled, it can lead the audience rating to drop.

Therefore, to what extent an author remains the master of his work? Once a book, a film, or TV show enters the creation process, does it still belong solely to the author? What about once it is released? Does it, at some point, automatically become part of a larger community, which also has some right of inspection? If so, what are, or should be, the power of this larger community?

Where there is language, there has always been poetry; for it is not only an art, but also a means of expression. But it has metamorphosed over the years, either in form or in the manner of dissemination. While it is natural that just as there are recognised masters of the art, there will always be amateur poets, the only factor that delineates amateur poetry as the seeming curse of modernity is the rise of the internet, and with it, of blogs and social media — heralding the rise of the so-called "Instagram poets" or "Tumblr poets." Gone are the days when the publication of your works were at the whim of those who controlled the press.

As with any activity, there is a spectrum of talent to be found. While there are those who put line breaks into epigrams and call it poetry, there are also writers of free verse with compelling metaphor and imagery. However, any amateur poet who shares this work faces a debate as to whether they can be called legitimate poets. Discuss: what is the need for this debate? What are the factors leading to this debate? Do the arguments posed hold water? Is it not a form of elitism to generalise the quality of self-published work? What can we do to acknowledge this shift in the nature of content creation?

I'm a writer, and right now, publishers and agents are warning fellow writers not to craft pandemic plotlines yet because it's too soon and we are too close to the event. However, what might pandemic-centered fiction look like when the crisis is safely past and we are able to examine it with a distant, critical eye? Discuss the elements of the pandemic that might make the best fiction. What kind of characters might be most compelling? Are there certain tropes or plot twists that would lend themselves well to pandemic fiction? Also, consider whether pandemic fiction could fit into already-established genres or sets of titles (i.e., Camus' The Plague, Love in the Time of Cholera, young adult titles like Laurie Halse Anderson's Fever 1793, etc.)

Video games have seemingly been on an endless march towards total realism since their earliest days over 70 years ago when they were little more than repurposed radar equipment. Modern technology has managed to make games more realistic than ever before. However, in recent years, there have been murmurings around popular titles that they have stepped too far towards realism, to the detriment of the game. Red Dead Redemption II and Kingdom Come: Deliverance have both been subjected to criticisms that they are 'too real'; the systems and mechanics meant to enhance the experience have instead diminished it. At what point does realism in gaming stop being desirable? Is there such a thing as a game being 'too real' to enjoy? Where does this mysterious new boundary exist, if one believes it to exist at all?

Recently, The Last Last of Us Part II won Game of the Year, while, last June, a few weeks before the official release, journalists and critics praised it highly. On Metacritic, critics score is high: 93/100.

However, the user review is way less eulogistic: only 5.7/10, with almost as many negative critics than positive ones: about 35 000, against about 36 000. (As a comparison, there are no negative critics among the critics’ reviews.). It is also worth noting that, on both sides, there are relatively few mixed critics: around 4 000 for users and 8 for critics.

The Last of Us II is, then, a very polarizing and cleaving game. But why is that?

Critics and players almost unanimously praised the graphics and the technical aspects of the game. The divide seems to lies with the narrative and the storytelling of the game. To some, this new opus made bold choices, cleverly subverted expectations, and carried powerful messages. To others, it utterly betrayed the first game and is filled with character inconsistencies and clumsy shortcuts.

How can we, then, explain the gap between those two antagonistic standpoints?

(To do so, one may examine the different plot tricks, gaming devices, or filming effects the game uses, more or less subtly, and the emotional and psychological reactions it is supposed to have on the audience. Plus, as one of the bones of contention is Abby’s character and her narrative arc, empathy is one of the meta-themes of the game: what kind of empathy characters in the game may or may not build towards each other, but, more prominently, what type of empathy a player may or may not develop towards such and such character. Indeed, at least three different kinds of empathies may be at play in the game: emotional empathy, cognitive empathy, and rational empathy or compassion. The kind of empathy one may develop, or, on the contrary, loose, towards such or such character can influence their appreciation regarding the game.)

Analyze the role of hubris within Œdipus in Œdipus Rex. Specifically, look at his confidence that he can solve problems of the curse of the gods in Thebes as a result of a mother marrying her son, how he believes that he is the solution to the problem instead of the problem itself. His edict that the cause of the curse is to be banished causes him to investigate affairs of the Thebian State, which culminates in discovering that Œdipus himself was the source of the curse in marrying his mother. How does hubris operate in these broad parameters? What role does truth and curiosity play? Are these things good?