It's the dystopian future and a bunch of weird mutants are sad about the lack of cat videos. No one haz cheezeburgers anymore.
It's the end of the world, and I feel fine about feeling wretched. My girlfriend, not so much.
Did we solve the last economic crisis by storing up an even bigger one for the future?
In case international terrorism and Donald Trump weren't enough.
It has to be pretty crushing when your big hellfire prediction fails to materialize.
While we wait for Fallout 4, let's look back at other games that had us looking forward to the end of the world.
Robert Vicino believes the rich don't live on the same scale as ordinary people in today's society—so why should that change after the end of the world? For a mere $35,000, his company will make their apocalypse experiences truly swanky.
I learned how to cut through zip ties, pick locks, and lived through a fake kidnapping—all in the name of girding myself for the lawless world to come.
How do you love a planet while it disappears? What obligation do we have to a generation that hasn't been born yet?
The Disney film is clunky in places, but its optimistic message is the sort of thing summer blockbusters could use a lot more of.
It's now easier for us to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism.
Post-apocalyptic games are more popular than ever, so we asked the creators of two fascinating new indie titles why that could be.
On my off days, I despair. But in general, all this morbid thinking actually thrills me, making me more grateful for every second I'm allowed. And I owe On The Beach for teaching me to stop worrying and to love the bomb.
"The world should end and then there should be a disco song," says video artist Charles Atlas.
Hunter Hunt-Hendrix of the band Liturgy talks about making a rap-metal album that doesn't sound like rap or metal, as well as being influenced by a Russian composer who wanted to use music to predict the apocalypse.
On paper Madonna's new album sounds ridiculous, but Rebel Heart perfectly captures the crises of 2014, making the record Madge's most relevant in 16 years.
From the Ebola scare to the anxieties over every doomsday scenario imaginable to unfounded worry about the Islamic State landing on our shores, it's clear that we love to be in a state of panic.
The future is a terrible place where all the humans are dead and robots, including Tamagotchis, are surviving by slurping our remains.
We're succumbing to the economic equivalent of carbon monoxide. The future we were promised, of limitless leisure kept afloat by a few breezy hours of work each week, looks more distant than ever. Our destruction by automatons is disappointingly un-cinema…
It's become a sort of annual ritual for Americans to go wild over the possibility that an exotic, lethal illness might spread from Africa or Southeast Asia to their own backyard.
Are journalists at fault for failing to convince us just how horrible global warming will be? Denial and doubt can be tempting—even to those who cover this stuff for a living.
Last weekend, I attended the Arizona Survivalist/Prepper Expo in Prescott Valley, Arizona—an event featuring more than 75 vendors selling everything to get you "prepared and ready for any natural, man-made, or economic disaster."
In an age when man-made climate change wreaking havoc on our way of life has transitioned from a distant, abstract prospect to short-term reality, building our way out of this mess has a certain twisted appeal.
The GOP may deny climate change, and liberals get a kick out of mocking them for ignoring science, but Democrats haven't done shit about the problem either.