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I think it would be interesting to consider the movies of different decades and how they define the different generations. As a child of the 80s, I grew up watching Goonies, Space Camp, and Red Dawn which all impacted the way I viewed life. They presented a picture of adventure (with danger), enemies to fight, and things to hope for. What about the movies of the 90s or the early 2000's?

Monster Prom (2018) is the latest in a line of explicitly queer indie dating sims since the popularity of The Game Grumps' Dream Daddy (2017). It's tone is light, comedic, and playful, owing it's mash-up of horror and sitcom tropes to predecessors like The Addams Family (1964), The Munsters (1964), Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975), a slew of campy monster beach party movies (e.g.: 1964's The Horror of Party Beach), and even the recent popularity of the Monster High (2010) toy line and webseries. Monster Prom owes a lot to the "all-ghoul school trope," but it is also unapologetically queer; the game's Kickstarter page includes a blurb on the subject: "Don't worry if you want to romance a certain love interest as a certain character! In Monster Prom characters don't like boys or girls… they like people." This is a kind counterpart to the long tradition of queer-coded monsters and villains in horror cinema, a topic extensively covered in Harry Benshoff in his book Monsters in The Closet: Homosexuality and The Horror Film (1997). Monstrous and villainous queer subtext can be observed famously in classic monster movies like Frankenstein (1931)– which prominently features two men privately collaborating to create new life (and was, directed by a gay man, James Whale)– Dracula's Daughter (1936)– which features a butch female vampire and her effeminate male manservant– and later films like Nightmare on Elm Street II: Freddy's Revenge (1985) and Reanimator (1985). The purpose of this article is to trace the trickle: how did our media shift from implicitly queer monsters as villains to explicitly queer monsters as love interests? Also consider the quasi-ironic queer nerd slogan: "The Babadook is a gay icon" and even the non-normative love story that takes place in The Shape of Water (2017).

Movie prequels have become increasingly more popular. Are they simply a cash-grab and do we need them? When you already know the outcome of a movie, do you even care? Do screenwriters have to work harder when writing a prequel in order to make the audience "forget" that the end is predetermined? Do we even need prequels? Is there a need to have an explanation for every tiny reference that was made in a previous movie? The Star Wars franchise is one of the biggest examples of this trend. Another franchise that comes to mind is Underworld. The third Underworld movie, Underworld: Rise of the Lycans, was a prequel. Do prequels have to work harder to make us care? Or do we need them because we care too much about those characters?

How are the LATINAMERICANS portrayed in the films and TV shows on time? Only the MEXICANS are mainly considered in US films?. What about the image from other countries?

What are its limitations? What will its advancement mean for other gaming devices?

With Fortnite and Players Unknown Battlegrounds recently making their way to mobile devices how far can mobile gaming go? Will it be limited mainly by the lack of screen real-estate and controls or will technology find a way to create an experience on a mobile phone much like you get on a Nintendo Switch?

Video production is a true full-time activity. Personally, I find that work as a youtuber is important because youtubers allow people to see the world from another angle, to reflect on topics and question themselves. However, a youtuber doesn't always get a decent salary out of his or her freelance job. Does it mean they're not working? How is this job different from being a actor, a writer or a painter?

To quote drag queen, Jasmine Master's infamous, "I have something to say, RuPaul's Drag Race has fucked up drag,' meme, this thought-provoking opinion is something that I find myself returning to every time a new drag queen expresses the validation they feel from being chosen to be on the show. Furthermore, when this validation seems only rewarded when winning, it becomes a rather toxic outlook towards drag in drag race. While I don't look down upon queens who have this belief, I do believe to an extent that it is exhausting to watch a queen dilute their talent to only being validated through RuPaul's 'stamp of approval.' Drag is a form of self-expression and the idea that for some drag queens, their admission to drag race and running time on drag race is validation saddens me, because I think drag is such a beautiful art form and the variety of nuances that it's performed in is what makes it most interesting to me. I sometimes feel like RuPaul's Drag Race, as a competition, tends to affect that with its challenges that are fine tuned to specific areas. Sure some queens are more well-versed in different areas, and the show is meant to show case the variety of talents that walk through that work room, but I notice the pressures of a competition like drag race affecting queens nevertheless. I'd like to hear other's thought on this.

With the second season of The Handmaid's Tale expanding on where the book finished, the ante is continually upped in terms of violence and horror. To keep the tension building, the torture and suffering the women in The Handmaid's Tale keeps getting worse and worse. Is this feminist tv show crossing the line with how much suffering is shown?

As a child and all the way up through high school, I found that geeky subjects were usually a great way to get one's self alienated from the group at large. As I get older, of course the internet has changed much of the way that people can socialize with each other, and so while there are now larger communities for geeky topics, I also find that some of these communities appear hostile to newcomers or even defaulting into the, 'You're only a true fan of X if…'

When I was younger, I thought geeky subjects were a great unifier, but today I'm not so sure. Do you think anything has changed in the past forty years, and if so, do you think geeky topics unify or divide people?

I'm not sure about others, but I was pleasantly surprised by the new TV series, based on the comic series, 'Runaways'. What I enjoyed was that the show made a strong nod to the comics, including a few throwaway lines and in-jokes, maintained aspects of the narrative that were iconic and important, but ultimately told a new story.

There has been much discussion on this site, and online in general, concerning the act of adapting from comics. I think 'Runaways' would be a good one to critic. Now although I enjoyed this immensely, there are also problematic issues in the alteration of the narrative, which deviates hugely from the original. In a similar way that 'Riverdale' reinvented itself for TV, 'Runaways' presents not quite a reinvention, but a reimagination.

Is this the way to compromise for comic adaptions?

Every anime fan has heard of, or even watched, 'Naruto', 'Bleach' and 'One Piece'. Till this day it remains in our hearts as the major mainstream animes of the 1990s – 2000s. With the end of Naruto and Bleach, and the continuation of One Piece, it makes us wonder what made these three animes so popular and why/if the series have 'fallen'.

Shows like 13 Reasons Why and Girl, Interrupted romanticize mental illness and the experience of depressed individual. Gender often plays into these narratives, and the specific roles that are romanticized-the depressed, their hero/protector, and the idolization of their struggle.

Since 13 Reasons Why Season 2 was released on Netflix a few days ago, there has been many conflicting opinions on the show. Some say it is informative and applaud it for raising awareness in ways no other show dares to do while many find the show extremely offensive, saying it glorifies and misrepresents mental illness as well as showing graphic scenes concerning matters such a suicide and rape that can be incredibly triggering for those suffering. What are your thoughts?

Critics seem to have a strange relationship with comic book movies. They've enjoyed and even loved most of the MCU movies. The same can't be said on when it comes to DC. However should we judge moves that are part of a shared universe solely on their own merits. Movies that are part of a shared universe rely on each other to tell an overarching story. Some of these movies set things up that one resolve till years down the road. Should we find a new way to critique these movies?

I love the scene in The Matrix when Agent Smith is interrogating Morpheus, and he explains why the world they created was so unpleasant. He said initially that they created a good world but that people rejected it. In fact, they lost whole crops of humans who couldn’t accept the utopia. People rejected what wasn’t believable to them.

This is true of good stories also, particularly in how they end. If the ending is too happy, the story loses its impact. On the flip side, many modern stories end without a real conclusion or with the protagonist still struggling. I’m curious about how to find that perfect balance of satisfying resolution and believable pain that reflects the real difficulties of this world and a hope of redemption.

With this article, I want to explore the role of the psychopath protagonist in Film, TV and Literature, attacking it from a screenwriter's perspective. Most of the content I've watched, the protagonist has always been someone with a moral compass, giving the audience someone to root for. However, what do you do when your protagonist has no moral compass? How do you find a way for your audience to root for them? I refer you to Frank Underwood of House Of Cards or Travis Bickle as examples of the Psychopath Protagonist.

Although 'A Quiet Plan' is heavily advertised as a horror/thriller movie, there are definitely underlining themes of family and what family is willing to do for one another. Not only does the love of family truly shine in this film, but it also shows how strong a family can be when their life is on the line everyday.

While Big Brother, Keeping Up With the Kardashians, or any Survival island anywhere, have human interactive elements of created drama, these shows can carry a feeling of detachment on the part of the audience: It might be possible to have some vicarious pleasure in watching these shows, but they can still be seen as shows where the viewers do not have the possibility of participation. The various reality shows on HGTV (Property Brothers, Fixer Upper, Good Bones, for example) or American Pickers (on the History Channel) create a feeling that the audience can be more closely involved. Imagine hitting the road and seeing a site that looks like an odd junkyard, knocking on the door, and asking to rummage through someone's property or warehouses? Imagine inviting The Property Brothers or Chip and Joanna Gaines to be involved in picking out a house to buy, having them knock down a wall, remodel a kitchen and turn the place into your dream home? These types of momentary thoughts can seem all too feasible. If you watch HGTV enough or American Pickers, it can be easy to imagine passing a place that looks interesting and wonder if it is possible to be like Mike and Frank. We all hope to buy a house that has potential and have Joanna do her magic and turn it into the white picket fence home of our dreams.
Are all reality shows the same or do some create a greater sense of expectation than others? Do these shows have an impact on the real world of remodeling or buying junk (which might not be junk to everyone)?

Although some programmes these days cleverly use a timeline in history to create a fictional story, which entices viewers to be curious about what the characters' lives would be like in the time period. However, happenings and events from the time period are often altered to suit the plot of the episodes instead of the actual. Is this beneficial to the audience? Or should we be given historical truths to aid us to expand our own knowledge of history?
E.g. Reign

Consider the map of Westeros as a human body: 'The Neck' is located centrally, at Greywater Watch. Perhaps the farther North you go the closer you move towards the mind, and the farther South you go the closer you move towards the genitals. Contrast the frankness and unapologetic polyamory of Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand (from Dorne at the most southerly point of Westeros) with the celibacy expected of the Watchers of the Wall and the shame they associate with physical desire (at the most northerly point of Westeros). Near and beyond the Wall, sex acts occur literally underground (Mole's Town and Jon's and Ygritte's cave). The Wall is more than a pile of frozen blocks; it is frequently described in the novels as a living thing which 'weeps' and 'defends itself'. What if the Wall represents the human mind's need to protect itself from the madness which would result from a direct confrontation with its most profound fears?