I'm Hot and Bothered with that Gay Horror Action

When I began watching The Axe Murders of Villisca, I was not impressed; it begins with an overlong and uninteresting scene reenacting the titular murders. But then there's a flash forward to modern day, and we're introduced to our protagonist, Caleb: a high-school-aged boy, but the actor's clearly in his late twenties. When Caleb runs out of his house, his best friend, Denny, is waiting for him on a moped. Caleb jumps on the back of the moped, and the two boys ride off to school together. There's a lot of touching and smiling. My queer reading glasses come out, but I’m certain they’re unfounded.

The boys get to school and are harassed by a couple of bullies at the school's entrance. The bullies call Denny a faggot. I'm a little stunned that the movie was reading my mind but then I'm sure it's just the bullies being bullies until they mock Denny for getting caught blowing a guy under the bleachers last year. Holy shit, he's gay. And Denny’s reaction to their comments acknowledges their violence. Caleb almost fights the bullies in defense of his friend, but a teacher breaks it up.

Caleb meets new girl Jess. Caleb and Jess flirt some. Denny has a plan to take Caleb to visit the Villisca Axe Murder House. Jess wants to tag along and Caleb is all for it, but Denny is a little too overtly jealous. The threesome is all tension. They take a tour during the day of the Villisca Axe Murder House—so much boring talk of the murders that goes nowhere—but decide to sneak in again after dark.

Just as I'm starting to think that the film isn't going to play up Denny’s clear attractions to Caleb or even acknowledge the massive amount of tension between the three leads, it does. Denny and Jess argue, and she says, "Sorry I crashed your little date." I am entranced.

Then it gets truly wild. Ghosts start possessing the three, and Caleb confronts Denny: “I’m sick of you following me around like a lost little puppy,” he says. “I get it. You’re into me.” The words are like ice. Upset, Denny leaves.

A moment later, a possessed Jess pulls Denny onto a bed. She touches his crotch and says, "You can pretend I'm him."

Denny escapes the bedroom but encounters a possessed Caleb in the hallway. Caleb reassures Denny then kisses him.

***

The Axe Murders of Villisca is not by most measures a good film. It’s convoluted and messy and at times incomprehensible. Everything to do with the historical murders at its center is entirely uninteresting. And yet, I found its examination of homophobia and repression, while also not without its blemishes, highly engaging. Watching Axe Murders feels a bit like scrapping shit off a wall and polishing it, because at least it’s my shit. Maybe that’s a bad analogy. I just feel so attached to Axe Murders’ intentions that it’s difficult to view it objectively. So maybe I won’t. Maybe I don’t have to be objective about its quality because its cheesy teenage angst and investment in gay desire work for me.

Night in the Woods: Gregg and Angus

My partner and I are young adults in our early twenties. Like many young, queer relationships, our beginning was overwhelmingly intense and passionate. Things moved quickly, and we lived together within six months of meeting. Now, years later, our story is much quieter and more intimate. We’re making ends meet together. We've stumbled and learned. He is my support and I his.

I played Night in the Woods and met an anthropomorphic fox and bear, and I thought, They look just like me. Their relationship looks so much like mine. And it made me happy because those are thoughts I never have.

Gregg and Angus—the aforementioned fox and bear respectively—are a young, queer couple in a mature relationship. They struggle to communicate and define boundaries in their relationship, but they love one another unconditionally. They are tender and intimate; they compliment one another's butts. They work minimum wage jobs and stress about finances, dreaming of escape from their poor and prejudiced mining town. Their story of queer millennial disillusionment while navigating the struggles of a mature relationship moved me because it mirrored my own story so closely.

Thank you, Night in the Woods. Thank you for crafting characters whose story is about staying in love rather than falling in love, and thank you for making those characters queer. Thank you for capturing my lived experience with remarkable specificity.

What I Know about Parenting, I Learned from Wolf Children

Wolf Children explores parenthood in a raw and truthful way. I watched Wolf Children, and I saw a mother working her soul to the grind to support and care for her children. This mother sacrifices everything, and I experienced her struggle right alongside her. I watched her move metaphorically mountains in scene after scene. I wanted to reach out and help her. Maybe I could just watch the kids for a day or something. It's the least I could do. But the movie wouldn't let me. I felt so tangibly the immense burden on her shoulders.

As the movie goes on, I watched this mother's children find their own path. I began to see them rebel against the expectations of their mother and the world. When they began doing stupid things and abandoning their mother, I got angry. I found myself, for a fleeting moment, wanting to entreat these kids to consider their actions, "Do you know what she's done for you?! You can't abandon her. You will love her. You will do what I want you to do!" This isn't parenthood. I know many a parent who thinks it is, but this movie and the mother in it know better. Parenthood is sacrifice. These beings you've nurtured and given everything to will leave you, and it's not your place to stop them. You can't control them. You have to let them go. You have to give them the freedom to live their life and support them when they need you. Wolf Children is powerful.

No More Coddling Players

Persona 4 is one of my favorite games. It seems made for me; I live for stories about teenagers and the supernatural, plus there's a murder mystery and human, well-developed characters—some of which are queer—and an exploration of Jungian psychology. Yet, as much as Persona 4 has everything I adore, it also has something I abhor: a bad ending.

Persona 4 (the original not Golden) has three endings: a bad ending, a good ending, and a true ending. The true ending is objectively the best ending; you successfully solve the mystery plaguing the town.

These bad and good endings are common in games, yet they're frustrating and uninteresting. Games are a medium about choice, but you can't have meaningful choice if there is a correct answer. Endings like these do not offer choice, because there is an objectively best ending. The other endings are just alternate lose conditions.

Imagine if in the middle of a movie you were given the option: would you like to turn off the movie now? It sounds silly but this, in reality, is the scenario Persona 4 presents with its endings. The endings that are not the true ending simply end the game a little earlier with the bad ending being particularly egregious. I cannot imagine playing Persona 4, getting the bad ending, turning off the game, and never playing it again. Yet, that is what the game suggests you do, because they falsely label the bad ending as an ending: a valid conclusion to their story. Persona 4's developers mislead the player by calling the bad ending an ending and by pretending that there is a choice in which ending players receive when there is no meaningful choice.

However, the most frustrating thing about Persona 4's endings is that they encourage and fetishize perfection. They suggest that there is such a thing as the perfect ending. In the real world, bad and good endings don’t exist; you can't make the right choices and have the perfect life. So why should they exist in games? Life is never simply good or bad; it is always somewhere in between. Developers must stop coddling players with inane assumptions that all games are escapist and fantasy. Let's create stories that feel more like real life and create choices that are difficult for the player to make—choices that require some sort of sacrifice. Let's feel free to challenge our players. Let's stop making good and bad endings.