Neima Jahromi

How one video game tells the story of an industry.

Once a means of reanimating dead people such as Kim Kardashian’s dad and Billie Holiday, the “telepresence” industry can beam Sean Combs—and you—around the world.

The math teacher at the center of “Miyamoto and the Machine” believes that a well-crafted puzzle can tell a story in numbers.

Games have exploded in popularity during quarantine, but Pandemic Legacy is more than a diversion.

The newest entry in the Star Trek canon is swept up in Picardianism, the hokey but not yet worn-out utopian world view that longs to recognize common ideals across the galaxy, while also preserving its differences.

From poisoned monks and nuclear bombs to the “transfermium wars,” mapping the atomic world hasn’t been easy.

The video giant’s recent travails underscore a basic question: How “neutral” should social-media platforms try to be?

The series, which ended its twelve-season run on Thursday, brought tech concepts to an older generation as the field grew from a curiosity to a vexation to an inescapable substrate of American life.

The game represents the way human activity is constantly mediated by screens, our lives made up of fleeting words and images and rising numbers.

Social-media platforms were eager to embrace live streaming because it promised growth. Now scale has become a problem.

The show’s writers’ room is well aware that its audience has fractured and multiplied, across the country and the planet, via a handful of different devices.

Even when his characters are at their most deadpan, their most inexplicably ignorant, there’s a wink—something real lurks beneath the mask, a hint of truthiness.

The thin border between the news that the show takes in for quick comic digestion and the news that it makes itself is once again at peak permeability.

Patrons of this tiny parlor in Greenwich Village can drink beer or frosé while playing any of about a thousand games, both classic and esoteric.

Since 2016, and especially after the violence of the past week and a half, it’s hard to know what a comedy show like “S.N.L.,” which often helps clarify the country’s perspective on difficult events, should do.

Its leather-bound menu lists an awe-inspiring variety of cognacs, Armangnacs, and Calvados and more than one half-century-old single-malt whiskey priced at more than a thousand dollars a pour.