The interesting thing about console launches is that you never know what unexpected treasures will emerge from the first batch of games. Who could have foretold that the hero of the PlayStation launch would be a fireworks simulation (Fantavision), or that the most joyous title in the initial GameCube lineup would involve simians racing each other in giant transparent globes (Super Monkey Ball)?The latest example could well be Konami’s Survival Kids, the only new third-party game in the Switch 2 opening wave. It’s the latest in the publisher’s cult series of tropical island survival sims, which began on the Game Boy Color and, despite never really attracting vast global success, continued on to the Nintendo DS under a new name, Lost in Blue. Now it’s back as a familyfriendly co-op survival adventure, in which groups of up to four players are shipwrecked on a mysterious archipelago, and must survive by gathering resources, crafting tools, finding food and exploring a series of lush, cartoonish environments. Four people can play online, but the game also supports Switch 2’s game sharing, which lets one person who owns the game connect wirelessly with other consoles to play together.Lush, cartoonish environments … a still from Survival Kids. Photograph: Konami Digital EntertainmentAndrew Dennison, who heads the game’s developer Unity, sees this as one of the Switch 2’s key features. “With splitscreen you have one machine rendering two different versions of the game,” he says. “With GameShare, we can compress one of those views and stream it … we render everything three times and push that out to two other consoles. As much as you can deep dive into tech specs, the benefits of GameShare are delightful. Other players in the same room as you don’t have to own the game, they don’t have to download anything … they can just turn on their Switch or Switch 2, push a button and they’re playing a game.”Unlike survival titles such as Don’t Starve or Project Zomboid (or indeed Lost in Blue), there’s no mortal peril in Survival Kids. Running out of food hampers your progress, but you can’t actually starve; if you die, you just – respawn nearby. “We wanted to make sure the game was enjoyable for people at every skill level,” says Dennison. “It’s a balancing act – we don’t want to bore experienced gamers – but you can streamline gameplay challenge without simplifying to the point of making it irrelevant.” Due to the strict NDAs around the Switch 2 hardware, the developer couldn’t bring in many external testers to fine-tune the difficulty – so Dennison ended up testing the game on his nieces, and on the finance department.All about co-operation … Survival Kids Photograph: Konami Digital EntertainmentBuilding tools is key – combine a vine and a stick and you get a fishing rod with which to lasso useful objects. Construct an umbrella and you can glide across wide canyons. There are no cumbersome item-inventory screens: when you need to build a tool or contraption, you can take what you need and drop it all into a bucket that magically spits it out. Tools are all stored at base camp, not in a menu, so that you can easily take a path home to pick up what you need.As with Overcooked, Survival Kids is all about streamlined cooperation and carefully divvied-out tasks. Chopping wood and breaking rocks is faster with two people, so you need a physical labour team; meanwhile food provides the energy needed to climb cliff faces and carry heavy relics, so you’ll need a chef to gather plants and make dinner. “We really wanted people to go back and eat at the base camp together,” says Richard Jones, creative director for Konami Digital Entertainment. “This way, the base camp becomes a place to return to – a sort of communal kitchen.”skip past newsletter promotionSign up to Pushing ButtonsFree weekly newsletterKeza MacDonald's weekly look at the world of gamingPrivacy Notice: Newsletters may contain info about charities, online ads, and content funded by outside parties. For more information see our Privacy Policy. We use Google reCaptcha to protect our website and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.after newsletter promotionUnlike most modern survival sims, it’s not totally open-ended: your aim is to discover more and more of the islands, which brings a sort of escape room feel to things. It’s also possible to go back and re-try levels to get a quicker time. Despite the family look and feel, there are some interesting and quite demanding physics-based challenges with multiple solutions. There’s a nice humour and lightness to the game as well, perhaps an inevitability considering that Dennison and many of the development team at Unity’s Stratford-upon-Avon office came from Codemasters and Rare.Will Konami bring more of its classic titles to Switch 2? “We know there are other Konami teams who are interested in this platform – we’ll be able to help them,” says Jones. “So yeah, fingers-crossed we’ll see some more Switch 2 projects from Konami.” For now Survival kids feels like a great test case for the new console’s family oriented game sharing.

The housing crisis in Canada’s North, which has particularly affected the majority Indigenous population in northern communities, has been of ongoing concern to firms such as Taylor Architecture Group (TAG). Formerly known as Pin/Taylor, the firm was established in Yellowknife in 1983. TAG’s Principal, Simon Taylor, says that despite recent political gains for First Nations, “by and large, life is not improving up here.” Taylor and his colleagues have designed many different types of housing across the North. But the problems exceed the normal scope of architectural practice. TAG’s Manager of Research and Development, Kristel Derkowski, says, “We can design the units well, but it doesn’t solve many of the underlying problems.” To respond, she says, “we’ve backed up the process to look at the root causes more.” As a result, “the design challenges are informed by much broader systemic research.”  We spoke to Derkowski about her research, and the work that Taylor Architecture Group is doing to act on it. Here’s what she has to say. Inadequate housing from the start The Northwest Territories is about 51% Indigenous. Most non-Indigenous people are concentrated in the capital city of Yellowknife. Outside of Yellowknife, the territory is very much majority Indigenous.  The federal government got involved in delivering housing to the far North in 1959. There were problems with this program right from the beginning. One issue was that when the houses were first delivered, they were designed and fabricated down south, and they were completely inadequate for the climate. The houses from that initial program were called “Matchbox houses” because they were so small. These early stages of housing delivery helped establish the precedent that a lower standard of housing was acceptable for northern Indigenous residents compared to Euro-Canadian residents elsewhere. In many cases, that double-standard persists to this day. The houses were also inappropriately designed for northern cultures. It’s been said in the research that the way that these houses were delivered to northern settlements was a significant factor in people being divorced from their traditional lifestyles, their traditional hierarchies, the way that they understood home. It was imposing a Euro-Canadian model on Indigenous communities and their ways of life.  Part of what the federal government was trying to do was to impose a cash economy and stimulate a market. They were delivering houses and asking for rent. But there weren’t a lot of opportunities to earn cash. This housing was delivered around the sites of former fur trading posts—but the fur trade had collapsed by 1930. There weren’t a lot of jobs. There wasn’t a lot of wage-based employment. And yet, rental payments were being collected in cash, and the rental payments increased significantly over the span of a couple decades.  The imposition of a cash economy created problems culturally. It’s been said that public housing delivery, in combination with other social policies, served to introduce the concept of poverty in the far North, where it hadn’t existed before. These policies created a situation where Indigenous northerners couldn’t afford to be adequately housed, because housing demanded cash, and cash wasn’t always available. That’s a big theme that continues to persist today. Most of the territory’s communities remain “non-market”: there is no housing market. There are different kinds of economies in the North—and not all of them revolve wholly around cash. And yet government policies do. The governments’ ideas about housing do, too. So there’s a conflict there.  The federal exit from social housing After 1969, the federal government devolved housing to the territorial government. The Government of Northwest Territories created the Northwest Territories Housing Corporation. By 1974, the housing corporation took over all the stock of federal housing and started to administer it, in addition to building their own. The housing corporation was rapidly building new housing stock from 1975 up until the mid-1990s. But beginning in the early 1990s, the federal government terminated federal spending on new social housing across the whole country. A couple of years after that, they also decided to allow operational agreements with social housing providers to expire. It didn’t happen that quickly—and maybe not everybody noticed, because it wasn’t a drastic change where all operational funding disappeared immediately. But at that time, the federal government was in 25- to 50-year operational agreements with various housing providers across the country. After 1995, these long-term operating agreements were no longer being renewed—not just in the North, but everywhere in Canada.  With the housing corporation up here, that change started in 1996, and we have until 2038 before the federal contribution of operational funding reaches zero. As a result, beginning in 1996, the number of units owned by the NWT Housing Corporation plateaued. There was a little bump in housing stock after that—another 200 units or so in the early 2000s. But basically, the Northwest Territories was stuck for 25 years, from 1996 to 2021, with the same number of public housing units. In 1990, there was a report on housing in the NWT that was funded by the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation (CMHC). That report noted that housing was already in a crisis state. At that time, in 1990, researchers said it would take 30 more years to meet existing housing need, if housing production continued at the current rate. The other problem is that houses were so inadequately constructed to begin with, that they generally needed replacement after 15 years. So housing in the Northwest Territories already had serious problems in 1990. Then in 1996, the housing corporation stopped building more. So if you compare the total number of social housing units with the total need for subsidized housing in the territory, you can see a severely widening gap in recent decades. We’ve seen a serious escalation in housing need. The Northwest Territories has a very, very small tax base, and it’s extremely expensive to provide services here. Most of our funding for public services comes from the federal government. The NWT on its own does not have a lot of buying power. So ever since the federal government stopped providing operational funding for housing, the territorial government has been hard-pressed to replace that funding with its own internal resources. I should probably note that this wasn’t only a problem for the Northwest Territories. Across Canada, we have seen mass homelessness visibly emerge since the ’90s. This is related, at least in part, to the federal government’s decisions to terminate funding for social housing at that time. Today’s housing crisis Getting to present-day conditions in the NWT, we now have some “market” communities and some “non-market” communities. There are 33 communities total in the NWT, and at least 27 of these don’t have a housing market: there’s no private rental market and there’s no resale market. This relates back to the conflict I mentioned before: the cash economy did not entirely take root. In simple terms, there isn’t enough local employment or income opportunity for a housing market—in conventional terms—to work.  Yellowknife is an outlier in the territory. Economic opportunity is concentrated in the capital city. We also have five other “market” communities that are regional centres for the territorial government, where more employment and economic activity take place. Across the non-market communities, on average, the rate of unsuitable or inadequate housing is about five times what it is elsewhere in Canada. Rates of unemployment are about five times what they are in Yellowknife. On top of this, the communities with the highest concentration of Indigenous residents also have the highest rates of unsuitable or inadequate housing, and also have the lowest income opportunity. These statistics clearly show that the inequalities in the territory are highly racialized.  Given the situation in non-market communities, there is a severe affordability crisis in terms of the cost to deliver housing. It’s very, very expensive to build housing here. A single detached home costs over a million dollars to build in a place like Fort Good Hope (Rádeyı̨lı̨kóé). We’re talking about a very modest three-bedroom house, smaller than what you’d typically build in the South. The million-dollar price tag on each house is a serious issue. Meanwhile, in a non-market community, the potential resale value is extremely low. So there’s a massive gap between the cost of construction and the value of the home once built—and that’s why you have no housing market. It means that private development is impossible. That’s why, until recently, only the federal and territorial governments have been building new homes in non-market communities. It’s so expensive to do, and as soon as the house is built, its value plummets.  The costs of living are also very high. According to the NWT Bureau of Statistics, the estimated living costs for an individual in Fort Good Hope are about 1.8 times what it costs to live in Edmonton. Then when it comes to housing specifically, there are further issues with operations and maintenance. The NWT is not tied into the North American hydro grid, and in most communities, electricity is produced by a diesel generator. This is extremely expensive. Everything needs to be shipped in, including fuel. So costs for heating fuel are high as well, as are the heating loads. Then, maintenance and repairs can be very difficult, and of course, very costly. If you need any specialized parts or specialized labour, you are flying those parts and those people in from down South. So to take on the costs of homeownership, on top of the costs of living—in a place where income opportunity is limited to begin with—this is extremely challenging. And from a statistical or systemic perspective, this is simply not in reach for most community members. In 2021, the NWT Housing Corporation underwent a strategic renewal and became Housing Northwest Territories. Their mandate went into a kind of flux. They started to pivot from being the primary landlord in the territory towards being a partner to other third-party housing providers, which might be Indigenous governments, community housing providers, nonprofits, municipalities. But those other organisations, in most cases, aren’t equipped or haven’t stepped forward to take on social housing. Even though the federal government is releasing capital funding for affordable housing again, northern communities can’t always capitalize on that, because the source of funding for operations remains in question. Housing in non-market communities essentially needs to be subsidized—not just in terms of construction, but also in terms of operations. But that operational funding is no longer available. I can’t stress enough how critical this issue is for the North. Fort Good Hope and “one thing that (kind of) worked” I’ll talk a bit about Fort Good Hope. I don’t want to be speaking on behalf of the community here, but I will share a bit about the realities on the ground, as a way of putting things into context.  Fort Good Hope, or Rádeyı̨lı̨kóé, is on the Mackenzie River, close to the Arctic Circle. There’s a winter road that’s open at best from January until March—the window is getting narrower because of climate change. There were also barges running each summer for material transportation, but those have been cancelled for the past two years because of droughts linked to climate change. Aside from that, it’s a fly-in community. It’s very remote. It has about 500-600 people. According to census data, less than half of those people live in what’s considered acceptable housing.  The biggest problem is housing adequacy. That’s CMHC’s term for housing in need of major repairs. This applies to about 36% of households in Fort Good Hope. In terms of ownership, almost 40% of the community’s housing stock is managed by Housing NWT. That’s a combination of public housing units and market housing units—which are for professionals like teachers and nurses. There’s also a pretty high percentage of owner-occupied units—about 46%.  The story told by the community is that when public housing arrived in the 1960s, the people were living in owner-built log homes. Federal agents arrived and they considered some of those homes to be inadequate or unacceptable, and they bulldozed those homes, then replaced some of them—but maybe not all—with public housing units. Then residents had no choice but to rent from the people who took their homes away. This was not a good way to start up a public housing system. The state of housing in Fort Good Hope Then there was an issue with the rental rates, which drastically increased over time. During a presentation to a government committee in the ’80s, a community member explained that they had initially accepted a place in public housing for a rental fee of $2 a month in 1971. By 1984, the same community member was expected to pay $267 a month. That might not sound like much in today’s terms, but it was roughly a 13,000% increase for that same tenant—and it’s not like they had any other housing options to choose from. So by that point, they’re stuck with paying whatever is asked.  On top of that, the housing units were poorly built and rapidly deteriorated. One description from that era said the walls were four inches thick, with windows oriented north, and water tanks that froze in the winter and fell through the floor. The single heating source was right next to the only door—residents were concerned about the fire hazard that obviously created. Ultimately the community said: “We don’t actually want any more public housing units. We want to go back to homeownership, which was what we had before.”  So Fort Good Hope was a leader in housing at that time and continues to be to this day. The community approached the territorial government and made a proposal: “Give us the block funding for home construction, we’ll administer it ourselves, we’ll help people build houses, and they can keep them.” That actually worked really well. That was the start of the Homeownership Assistance Program (HAP) that ran for about ten years, beginning in 1982. The program expanded across the whole territory after it was piloted in Fort Good Hope. The HAP is still spoken about and written about as the one thing that kind of worked.  Self-built log cabins remain from Fort Good Hope’s 1980s Homeownership Program (HAP). Funding was cost-shared between the federal and territorial governments. Through the program, material packages were purchased for clients who were deemed eligible. The client would then contribute their own sweat equity in the form of hauling logs and putting in time on site. They had two years to finish building the house. Then, as long as they lived in that home for five more years, the loan would be forgiven, and they would continue owning the house with no ongoing loan payments. In some cases, there were no mechanical systems provided as part of this package, but the residents would add to the house over the years. A lot of these units are still standing and still lived in today. Many of them are comparatively well-maintained in contrast with other types of housing—for example, public housing units. It’s also worth noting that the one-time cost of the materials package was—from the government’s perspective—only a fraction of the cost to build and maintain a public housing unit over its lifespan. At the time, it cost about $50,000 to $80,000 to build a HAP home, whereas the lifetime cost of a public housing unit is in the order of $2,000,000. This program was considered very successful in many places, especially in Fort Good Hope. It created about 40% of their local housing stock at that time, which went from about 100 units to about 140. It’s a small community, so that’s quite significant.  What were the successful principles? The community-based decision-making power to allocate the funding. The sweat equity component, which brought homeownership within the range of being attainable for people—because there wasn’t cash needing to be transferred, when the cash wasn’t available. Local materials—they harvested the logs from the land, and the fact that residents could maintain the homes themselves. The Fort Good Hope Construction Centre. Rendering by Taylor Architecture Group The Fort Good Hope Construction Centre The HAP ended the same year that the federal government terminated new spending on social housing. By the late 1990s, the creation of new public housing stock or new homeownership units had gone down to negligible levels. But more recently, things started to change. The federal government started to release money to build affordable housing. Simultaneously, Indigenous governments are working towards Self-Government and settling their Land Claims. Federal funds have started to flow directly to Indigenous groups. Given these changes, the landscape of Northern housing has started to evolve. In 2016, Fort Good Hope created the K’asho Got’ine Housing Society, based on the precedent of the 1980s Fort Good Hope Housing Society. They said: “We did this before, maybe we can do it again.” The community incorporated a non-profit and came up with a five-year plan to meet housing need in their community. One thing the community did right away was start up a crew to deliver housing maintenance and repairs. This is being run by Ne’Rahten Developments Ltd., which is the business arm of Yamoga Land Corporation (the local Indigenous Government). Over the span of a few years, they built up a crew of skilled workers. Then Ne’Rahten started thinking, “Why can’t we do more? Why can’t we build our own housing?” They identified a need for a space where people could work year-round, and first get training, then employment, in a stable all-season environment. This was the initial vision for the Fort Good Hope Construction Centre, and this is where TAG got involved. We had some seed funding through the CMHC Housing Supply Challenge when we partnered with Fort Good Hope. We worked with the community for over a year to get the capital funding lined up for the project. This process required us to take on a different role than the one you typically would as an architect. It wasn’t just schematic-design-to-construction-administration. One thing we did pretty early on was a housing design workshop that was open to the whole community, to start understanding what type of housing people would really want to see. Another piece was a lot of outreach and advocacy to build up support for the project and partnerships—for example, with Housing Northwest Territories and Aurora College. We also reached out to our federal MP, the NWT Legislative Assembly and different MLAs, and we talked to a lot of different people about the link between employment and housing. The idea was that the Fort Good Hope Construction Centre would be a demonstration project. Ultimately, funding did come through for the project—from both CMHC and National Indigenous Housing Collaborative Inc. The facility itself will not be architecturally spectacular. It’s basically a big shed where you could build a modular house. But the idea is that the construction of those houses is combined with training, and it creates year-round indoor jobs. It intends to combat the short construction seasons, and the fact that people would otherwise be laid off between projects—which makes it very hard to progress with your training or your career. At the same time, the Construction Centre will build up a skilled labour force that otherwise wouldn’t exist—because when there’s no work, skilled people tend to leave the community. And, importantly, the idea is to keep capital funding in the community. So when there’s a new arena that needs to get built, when there’s a new school that needs to get built, you have a crew of people who are ready to take that on. Rather than flying in skilled labourers, you actually have the community doing it themselves. It’s working towards self-determination in housing too, because if those modular housing units are being built in the community, by community members, then eventually they’re taking over design decisions and decisions about maintenance—in a way that hasn’t really happened for decades. Transitional homeownership My research also looked at a transitional homeownership model that adapts some of the successful principles of the 1980s HAP. Right now, in non-market communities, there are serious gaps in the housing continuum—that is, the different types of housing options available to people. For the most part, you have public housing, and you have homelessness—mostly in the form of hidden homelessness, where people are sleeping on the couches of relatives. Then, in some cases, you have inherited homeownership—where people got homes through the HAP or some other government program. But for the most part, not a lot of people in non-market communities are actually moving into homeownership anymore. I asked the local housing manager in Fort Good Hope: “When’s the last time someone built a house in the community?” She said, “I can only think of one person. It was probably about 20 years ago, and that person actually went to the bank and got a mortgage. If people have a home, it’s usually inherited from their parents or from relatives.” And that situation is a bit of a problem in itself, because it means that people can’t move out of public housing. Public housing traps you in a lot of ways. For example, it punishes employment, because rent is geared to income. It’s been said many times that this model disincentivizes employment. I was in a workshop last year where an Indigenous person spoke up and said, “Actually, it’s not disincentivizing, it punishes employment. It takes things away from you.” Somebody at the territorial housing corporation in Yellowknife told me, “We have clients who are over the income threshold for public housing, but there’s nowhere else they can go.” Theoretically, they would go to the private housing market, they would go to market housing, or they would go to homeownership, but those options don’t exist or they aren’t within reach.  So the idea with the transitional homeownership model is to create an option that could allow the highest income earners in a non-market community to move towards homeownership. This could take some pressure off the public housing system. And it would almost be like a wealth distribution measure: people who are able to afford the cost of operating and maintaining a home then have that option, instead of remaining in government-subsidized housing. For those who cannot, the public housing system is still an option—and maybe a few more public housing units are freed up.  I’ve developed about 36 recommendations for a transitional homeownership model in northern non-market communities. The recommendations are meant to be actioned at various scales: at the scale of the individual household, the scale of the housing provider, and the scale of the whole community. The idea is that if you look at housing as part of a whole system, then there are certain moves that might make sense here—in a non-market context especially—that wouldn’t make sense elsewhere. So for example, we’re in a situation where a house doesn’t appreciate in value. It’s not a financial asset, it’s actually a financial liability, and it’s something that costs a lot to maintain over the years. Giving someone a house in a non-market community is actually giving them a burden, but some residents would be quite willing to take this on, just to have an option of getting out of public housing. It just takes a shift in mindset to start considering solutions for that kind of context. One particularly interesting feature of non-market communities is that they’re still functioning with a mixed economy: partially a subsistence-based or traditional economy, and partially a cash economy. I think that’s actually a strength that hasn’t been tapped into by territorial and federal policies. In the far North, in-kind and traditional economies are still very much a way of life. People subsidize their groceries with “country food,” which means food that was harvested from the land. And instead of paying for fuel tank refills in cash, many households in non-market communities are burning wood as their primary heat source. In communities south of the treeline, like Fort Good Hope, that wood is also harvested from the land. Despite there being no exchange of cash involved, these are critical economic activities—and they are also part of a sustainable, resilient economy grounded in local resources and traditional skills. This concept of the mixed economy could be tapped into as part of a housing model, by bringing back the idea of a ‘sweat equity’ contribution instead of a down payment—just like in the HAP. Contributing time and labour is still an economic exchange, but it bypasses the ‘cash’ part—the part that’s still hard to come by in a non-market community. Labour doesn’t have to be manual labour, either. There are all kinds of work that need to take place in a community: maybe taking training courses and working on projects at the Construction Centre, maybe helping out at the Band Office, or providing childcare services for other working parents—and so on. So it could be more inclusive than a model that focuses on manual labour. Another thing to highlight is a rent-to-own trial period. Not every client will be equipped to take on the burdens of homeownership. So you can give people a trial period. If it doesn’t work out and they can’t pay for operations and maintenance, they could continue renting without losing their home. Then it’s worth touching on some basic design principles for the homeownership units. In the North, the solutions that work are often the simplest—not the most technologically innovative. When you’re in a remote location, specialized replacement parts and specialized labour are both difficult to come by. And new technologies aren’t always designed for extreme climates—especially as we trend towards the digital. So rather than installing technologically complex, high-efficiency systems, it actually makes more sense to build something that people are comfortable with, familiar with, and willing to maintain. In a southern context, people suggest solutions like solar panels to manage energy loads. But in the North, the best thing you can do for energy is put a woodstove in the house. That’s something we’ve heard loud and clear in many communities. Even if people can’t afford to fill their fuel tank, they’re still able to keep chopping wood—or their neighbour is, or their brother, or their kid, and so on. It’s just a different way of looking at things and a way of bringing things back down to earth, back within reach of community members.  Regulatory barriers to housing access: Revisiting the National Building Code On that note, there’s one more project I’ll touch on briefly. TAG is working on a research study, funded by Housing, Infrastructure and Communities Canada, which looks at regulatory barriers to housing access in the North. The National Building Code (NBC) has evolved largely to serve the southern market context, where constraints and resources are both very different than they are up here. Technical solutions in the NBC are based on assumptions that, in some cases, simply don’t apply in northern communities. Here’s a very simple example: minimum distance to a fire hydrant. Most of our communities don’t have fire hydrants at all. We don’t have municipal services. The closest hydrant might be thousands of kilometres away. So what do we do instead? We just have different constraints to consider. That’s just one example but there are many more. We are looking closely at the NBC, and we are also working with a couple of different communities in different situations. The idea is to identify where there are conflicts between what’s regulated and what’s actually feasible, viable, and practical when it comes to on-the-ground realities. Then we’ll look at some alternative solutions for housing. The idea is to meet the intent of the NBC, but arrive at some technical solutions that are more practical to build, easier to maintain, and more appropriate for northern communities.  All of the projects I’ve just described are fairly recent, and very much still ongoing. We’ll see how it all plays out. I’m sure we’re going to run into a lot of new barriers and learn a lot more on the way, but it’s an incremental trial-and-error process. Even with the Construction Centre, we’re saying that this is a demonstration project, but how—or if—it rolls out in other communities would be totally community-dependent, and it could look very, very different from place to place.  In doing any research on Northern housing, one of the consistent findings is that there is no one-size-fits-all solution. Northern communities are not all the same. There are all kinds of different governance structures, different climates, ground conditions, transportation routes, different population sizes, different people, different cultures. Communities are Dene, Métis, Inuvialuit, as well as non-Indigenous, all with different ways of being. One-size-fits-all solutions don’t work—they never have. And the housing crisis is complex, and it’s difficult to unravel. So we’re trying to move forward with a few different approaches, maybe in a few different places, and we’re hoping that some communities, some organizations, or even some individual people, will see some positive impacts.  As appeared in the June 2025 issue of Canadian Architect magazine  The post Insites: Addressing the Northern housing crisis appeared first on Canadian Architect.

Cath Virginia is the senior designer here at The Verge, who creates illustrations and collages for our articles. However, she also has “dabbled” (as she puts it) in feature designs for articles such as 2004 was the first year of the future (which won the 2025 ASME Award for Best News and Entertainment Design), How the Stream Deck rose from the ashes of a legendary keyboard, and The Lurker. “I also designed the branding for Notepad by Tom Warren and recently refreshed the look of Verge Deals,” she explains.When not doing this impressive work, Cath sews. A lot. And so, when I asked her what one of her favorite gadgets was, she said it was her Brother 1034D Serger. If you’re not quite sure what a serger is (I certainly wasn’t), read on.What exactly is a thread serger?A serger, also known as an overlocker, is a type of sewing machine generally used in apparel making. It has two needles and uses up to four strands of thread at a time to create the loops and finished edge you see on the inside of most knitwear, like T-shirts and leggings. It also has a knife that cuts the edge of your fabric at the same time, so the finished product looks clean and professional.When did you buy this one, and what went into the decision?I bought this one this past March as a birthday and tax return present. I’ve been wanting one for a while, because I sew a lot of clothes. I’m picky about style and, being fat, have a hard time finding clothes I like that actually fit me. I also love wearing knits because they’re comfortable, and traditional sewing machines aren’t intended primarily to sew knit garments, which need to have stretchy seams. You can use a zigzag stitch to achieve a stretch in your seam, but the serger sews and cuts all at once, as well as finishes the inside edges, so it saves a lot of time. In choosing a serger, I wanted one that was easy to thread, had an adjustable free arm for sewing cuffs and sleeves, and could sew multiple layers of fabric at a time. I watched a bunch of YouTube reviews of sergers and found this one to be pretty affordable — and it checked my boxes. It also got better reviews than its cheaper sibling, the DX. I was intimidated by it at first because four spools of thread is kind of scary. But it has clearly labeled and color-coded instructions for threading and comes with a manual, so I learned it and had it down in under half an hour.The serger creates a chain of stitches called “overlocking” that goes along the inside edge of your garment and can also be used for decoration. Photo: Cath Virginia / The VergeWhat do you usually create with it?So far, I have hemmed a couple shirts and made a maxi skirt (with pockets!) and a crop top. That was after a long and frustrating period trying to learn how to use it. I also dulled two different knives, learning that you can’t sew over pins with a serger because there is a big metal knife chopping your seam off.What do you like about it?Sometimes when you’re sewing knits on a traditional (lockstitch) machine, the edges become unintentionally ruffle-y (due to its one measly feed dog, which is the moveable plate that pulls the material through from stitch to stitch). This can make your piece look pretty weird and bad. Another great thing about this serger is that it has something called differential feed, which uses two feed dogs to sew your fabric together. It can be adjusted to feed one piece of fabric faster or slower, so it will flatten out your wobbly knitted seams or can be used to create a lettuce hem. It also comes with a gathering foot, which can be used to gather and sew (intentional) ruffles!Is there anything about it that you dislike or that you think could be improved?This is actually on me for not doing quite enough research, but when I bought it, I was excited to finally be able to do the coveted two-thread coverstitch you see on the hems of T-shirts and other knit stuff, only to find out you actually need a whole other machine that literally only does that one thing. That was disappointing to find out, but to compensate, the serger does actually come with a blind hem foot that you can use to do an okay impression of one. It’s kind of a finicky stitch to get right, though, because you’re sewing from the wrong side of the fabric, and I had to do quite a few samples to test it out before I used it on any garments. Who would you recommend it to?If you sew a lot of knitwear clothing, it can be a really useful tool for leveling up your garments and being a bit more efficient! It’s not a total replacement for a lockstitch sewing machine but I’m really liking it so far. Don’t be too intimidated by the four threads: they are your friends. And don’t try to sew over any of your pins. $280Designed for finishing the edges and hems of a wide range of fabrics, especially linens and stretchy fabrics, and for creating ruffles and decorative edges.$280 at Amazon$280 at WalmartSee More:

You ever wonder who the first person to put peanut butter and chocolate together was? Part of me feels like whoever it was must be loaded; I mean, you’ve combined two already great flavors into something that Reese’s would more or less build a whole brand on. And then part of me thinks it plays out like the hypothetical guy who invented the Chicken McNugget in The Wire. A pat on the back from a big shot, and then it’s back to the basement to figure out a way to make the fries taste better. I don’t know the answer; I hope it's the former. But every now and then, you come across an idea, a combination of things, that’s so good that you wonder how nobody’s ever done it before. And every time my squad and I sprinted back to our time-traveling dropship, stopping only to deal with the Time Reapers that stood in our way, I wondered how the hell nobody had ever said “Hey, what if we combined Overcooked and Gears of War?” pre-Pizza Bandit.Pizza Bandit’s setup is pretty simple. You’re Malik, a former bounty hunter with dreams of being a chef who is pulled back into the bounty game when he’s scammed out of his pizza shop and his former crew needs his help to get out of a jam. Pizza Bandit’s writing is pretty silly, but that’s part of the charm. I can’t get mad when Albert, the android that upgrades your weapons, tells me he doesn’t know how to apologize for what happened to my pizza shop because he’s just an android, or when my pilot waxes nostalgic about how he misses the fog, or when someone utters the odd nonsensical line. It’s too silly, and the whole setup is just there to, well… set up Pizza Bandit’s wackiness.PlaySee, you’re not just any bounty-hunting crew. You’re a time-traveling bounty hunting crew, and that means you’ll be going all over space and time to get the job done. Don’t ask me how any of this works. All I know is that pizza heals and bullets kill, and that the Time Reapers — nasty little buggers that seem to be invading every timeline — don’t want this pizza shop owner to make any dough. And that’s not gonna fly. Pizza Bandit’s writing is pretty silly, but that’s part of the charm.“What makes Pizza Bandit unique is that you’re not just shooting stuff. You’re also, well, kinda playing Overcooked. After squading up, my first mission saw my crew (you can play with up to three friends) heading to the Restaurant from N owhere, a hidden outpost run by another bandit crew. Our job: fulfill the pizza orders for other bounty hunting teams, and send them off in time-traveling rocket pods. That meant putting together the right type of pizza, getting it to the oven, making sure we were getting their drink orders right, and adding some extra bullets for when things got spicy, cramming it all into a pod, and doing it on time while fighting off the Time Reapers, who really, really don’t like supporting small businesses.Pizza Bandit ScreenshotsAnd that’s where the other part of the Overcooked/Gears of War marriage comes into play. See, the Time Reapers mean business, and you’re not going to talk them out of some time reaping. That’s their whole bag. The only solution, fellow bandit, is incredible violence. I’ve played several builds of Pizza Bandit at this point, and let me tell you, your arsenal is up to the task. You start with your choice of assau lt rifle, minigun, and sniper rifle, but the fun really begins when you start unlocking your secondary weapons by completing jobs. They start simple: landmines, grenades, that sort of thing, but once you unlock the disco ball that attracts enemies and gets them dancing before it explodes? Whew, buddy. And the sentry turret? Perfection. You could slice and dice them Time Reapers with a katana, but have you ever considered using a pizza slicer as big as a man? It’ll change your life.And the Time Reapers will force you to use everything in your arsenal. You got your standard guys who will just run at you, but there are also Time Reapers that’ll crawl around on all fours, Terminator-looking ones that will leap at you, giant ones with hammers, guys who throw fireballs (these can really ruin your day), the works. You gotta prioritize.Pizza Bandit is at its best when you’re with a good team, calling out orders. A good match should be shouts of “We need a pepperoni pie!” and “I’m on the Coke!” and “I’m down!” interspersed with lots and lots of gunfire. Simple choices, like when to call down your own, once-a-mission rocket pod full of pizza and supplies, and more complex ones, like where to put it (you can block off a stairway, for instance), spice things up, too. And here’s the thing: so far, I’ve just talked about Restaurant from Nowhere, which is only the first level. Pizza Bandit isn’t a one-trick pony. One of my favorite levels has you taking over a sushi joint and making sure you have the right stuff on the delivery turntable for your customers. Sometimes that means running downstairs and grabbing a big ol’ tuna, taking that bad boy upstairs, and chopping him up before the Time Reapers whack you and you drop him. Other times that means frying an egg, or making a cucumber roll. You gotta stay ahead of the curve, because new customers are prioritized over old ones, and the Time Reapers aren’t gonna sit there and wait for you to plate your masterpiece.Sometimes, you’re not even cooking food at all. Another favorite level, Wizard’s Tomb, has you exploring a magically booby-trapped tomb in search of a sarcophagus. You’ll have to navigate the tomb’s traps, solve basic puzzles to reveal the way forward, and take out the arcane heart powering the whole enterprise before getting to the sarcophagus itself, which you’ll naturally transport with jetpacks before booking it back to your ship. It isn’t enough to get any given job done; you gotta get home, too. Just another day in the life of a pizza bandit.Pizza Bandit is always ludicrous, and its inspirations are obvious, but it’s never less than fun.“There are more, of course: in one, you’ll defend a cabin with Dr. Emmert Browne (Great Scott, Jofsoft, I see what you’re doing here, and I like it!) while he invents the time travel device that makes your whole business profitable. Winning it all means keeping him warm, satiating his hunger with rabbit or venison, and stopping all those nasty Time Reapers (and Wendigos?) who are trying to stop time travel from happening. You’d think that the Time Reapers would understand time paradoxes, but I guess not. Can’t reap time if there’s no time to reap, y’all. Or maybe you’ll break into an enormous safe with a laser drill, like you’re roleplaying the opening scene of Michael Mann’s Thief with a drill that’s constantly exploding. That seems safe, right? But hey, apparently there’s a magical cookbook in that vault whose recipes can alter reality, and we’re being paid to get it, exploding drill or not. A Pizza Bandit always gets the job done. And there’s always time to do your best Breaking Bad impersonation and help a couple of guys cook some “magic powder” and hide it inside some chicken. Oh, and you have to kill and cook the chickens. Only fresh, never frozen, baby. Pizza Bandit is always ludicrous, and its inspirations are obvious, but it’s never less than fun.Between missions, it’s back to Pizza Bandit (your restaurant), where you can acquire and upgrade your weapons, decorate Pizza Bandit itself, use the ingredients you find during missions to bake and share a pie for some stat boosts on your next run, or get some spiffy new duds for your bounty hunter. The milk carton backpack is a classic choice, if I do say so myself, but I’m still saving up for one of the cat ones. The things we do for fashion, am I right? Then it’s right back to it. A bandit’s work is never done.Sometimes, you don’t know you want something until you get it. I didn’t know I wanted Pizza Bandit until the first time I played it at PAX two years ago. It was one of those games that generated a lot of word of mouth, but it’s one of those concepts that doesn’t seem like it’ll work until you get a controller in your hands and everything makes sense. I don’t know why we’ve never gotten something like Pizza Bandit before, but once I played it, I knew I wanted more. Pizza heals, bullets kill, and Pizza Bandit rocks. If Jofsoft can stick the landing, we’re in for a tasty slice of New York pie.

This article contains spoilers for Fear Street: Prom Queen Right before the first kill of Fear Street: Prom Queen, viewers get a montage of sounds and images appropriate to the movie’s 1988 setting. Accompanied by Billy Idol’s “White Wedding,” we see mean girl Tiffany Falconer (Fina Strazza) prepping for prom, cool girl Christy Renault (Ariana Greenblatt) buying drugs, and protagonist Lori Granger (India Fowler) trying on her dress. Included in this sequence is a shot of moviegoers watching Phantasm II, the cult classic from director Don Coscarelli. Onscreen, we see one of that ’80s film’s standout scenes, where flying silver balls launched by the evil Tall Man (Angus Scrimm) soar across a hallway before lodging into the head of a victim. By this point, such homages are an expected part of the Fear Street franchise, based on the YA novels by R.L. Stine. The first three movies, all directed by Leigh Janiak, feature multiple references to previous horror movies. But the Phantasm II nod in Prom Queen does more than provide further watch suggestions for Fear Street‘s intended audience, young teens new to the horror genre. It also points to the important fundamentals of horror filmmaking, which is something sometimes lost in the more frantic original trilogy. As in Coscarelli’s movie, Prom Queen uses a deliberate pace and clear spacial arrangement to make its kills legible, thereby heightening the experience beyond jump scares and references. It makes for a better horror experience. Two Types of Killing Palmer’s approach can be seen in the scene directly following the montage. The scene opens with a mid-range shot of Greenblatt’s cool girl standing next to the sports car driven by her drug dealers. The camera stays pretty tight on her as she finishes her transaction and walks off. When she crosses a bridge to the parking lot where she’ll meet her end though, the visual language changes. A wide shot captures Christy as she crosses a bridge, the soft orange light from the post above her providing a tranquil mood. That continues into the next shot where our victim walks happily through an empty parking lot. The tone shifts suddenly with a hard cut to a close up of Christy as she stops, and the camera moves around her as she looks around. A cut back to a wide shot shows that she is largely alone and trapped on three sides. Brick buildings and trucks surround her on all corners. So when a figure arrives in a foreground of one of the wide shots and an axe drops into frame, we understand Christy’s predicament. She’s utterly alone, save for this person who’s come to kill her. And the killer stands in front of her one means of escape. Christy doesn’t see the killer before the axe blade lands in her neck, but we viewers do. In fact, the camera stays with the killer up until the attack, cutting only briefly back to Christy’s perspective. Even as the killer chops at the pleading girl, the camera returns to a brief wide shot to show how her cries will go unanswered. Contrast this kill to the opening scene of the first entry, Fear Street: 1994, in which a slasher in a mask and hood stalks bookseller Heather (Maya Hawke). Director Janiak uses the aisles of the mall storefronts where the attack takes place to to build tension. We never really know where the killer is in relationship to Heather, even when closeups show the characters in full. Thus the attacks are all shocks, with the killer (and in one case, a counterattacking Heather) coming out of nowhere to surprise the viewer. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this style. Janiak is a good filmmaker, and her excellent debut picture Honeymoon demonstrates that she knows how to build dread and mood. But with Fear Street, Janiak chooses shocks over scares, with the killers constantly jumping out at the victims. Such energetic moviemaking gets a jolt from viewers but ultimately operates as shorthand, giving us the quick payoff of a scary scene without making us wait through the buildup. Prom Queen is all about the fundamentals of building a scary scene. In the bloody art room sequence, perhaps the most memorable moment, the camera lays out the geography of the space before we see the killer use a paper cutter to sever a jock’s arms. A tracking shot follows the jock Bobby (Dakota Taylor) and his girlfriend Linda (Ilan O’Driscoll) as they enter the room, keeping them in the center of the frame while also showing the points of exit and the objects in the room. Linda gets killed off-screen, moving out of frame and into the darkness. When she returns, holding the entrails spilling from a wound in her stomach, we see not only the room, but also start looking for the instruments that can do such damage. So when the killer stymies Bobby’s counterattack by slamming his arm on a table, we’re not seeing the paper cutter for the first time. But we do feel a sense of dread when we realize the proximity between Bobby’s hand and the cutter, a dread that gets consummated when he starts chopping away. Join our mailing list Get the best of Den of Geek delivered right to your inbox! It’s that sense of dread that makes horror so powerful. The actual kill can surprise us or disgust us, and Fear Street does that well (remember the improbable head in a bread slicer kill from 1994?). But the kill can also provide a sense of relief because it’s all so knowable. We no longer fear the potential for a character’s death because it has arrived. We may hate it and it may upset us, but it doesn’t scare us. A Legacy of Death With its more intentional pace and excellent spacial awareness, Prom Queen spends more time building dread. Drawing from masters like Coscarelli (who certainly loved a good jump scare from time to time) and pulling from the Italian giallo tradition that inspired the American slasher, director Matt Palmer grounds Prom Queen in a larger horror tradition. Palmer shows his young audience not just the cool movies they can check out after watching the latest Fear Street. He also shows them how to watch these movies; the fundamentals of horror filmmaking that provide the building blocks of the genre. Thanks to its well-constructed and well-paced kill scenes, Prom Queen goes beyond referencing the 1980s and looks at the history of horror and educates the next generation of horror fans. Fear Street: Prom Queen streams on Netlfix on May 23, 2025.

Mark Jupiter always knew he was a creator, and in his youth he embraced different forms of expression. He eventually felt a deep pull to design and built his first house, with care in every element. “I felt that it was something I needed to do at least once in my life,” Jupiter says. “From raising a massive Gambrel timber frame to constructing the first LEED Platinum homes in the country, it became clear that the crossroads of craft and invention was where I was meant to be.” The path to success wasn’t an easy one for Jupiter. After both of his parents passed away, and experiencing the collapse of his housing company during the financial crisis of 2008, Jupiter was at a loss. He credits his wife with providing support and giving him the courage to reinvent himself. Her belief in his talents inspired him to go back to the basics and start making furniture, a world he knew well. Mark Jupiter \\\ Photo: Michael Biondo Jupiter’s father was a furniture maker, and he learned the tricks of the trade from him, pitching in and doing a little bit of everything, from lifting materials to sanding wood. It all came naturally to him, and so this native New Yorker decided to move back to the city from upstate and start his own business. He found the perfect space in Brooklyn’s DUMBO neighborhood, and in 2013 opened his eponymous studio with a dozen pieces, which he describes as “the functional jewelry of any room.” The operation has grown from a modest one-man shop to a state-of-the-art manufacturing facility and showroom. At a time when craft-based businesses are continually being pushed out of high-end areas of the city, the workshop is more than a place where furniture is made – it’s a space for the community to come together to connect and inspire one another. Jupiter loves to collaborate with people, and nothing fuels him more than when he is alongside others who are inspired, especially team members. “Though it’s my name on the door, the truth is that none of it happens without the incredibly talented people I get to work with every day,” he notes. “This crew brings relentless skill, passion, and precision to everything we create.” Today, Mark Jupiter joins us for Friday Five! Photo: Mark Jupiter 1. My Wife’s Pottery I don’t watch her make it – I just see what she brings home, and every time I’m blown away. Her pottery has this quiet power to it. There’s nothing showy, just form, texture, and restraint. It reminds me that great work doesn’t need to announce itself – it simply belongs. Her pieces inhabit our space and shape how I think about presence and utility. Photo: Mark Jupiter 2. Chopping Wood I love the clean rhythm of chopping wood. It’s one of the few acts left that connects you directly to consequence – swing, crack, split. The weight of the axe, the resistance of the grain, the satisfaction of stacking something you’ve shaped with your own hands. It’s design in its most primitive form. Photo: Josh Wong 3. My Daughter’s Poetry and Singing My daughter writes and sings with an honesty I can’t touch. Watching her grow into her own creative voice reminds me of what it means to express something without pretense. She proves that beauty doesn’t need polish – it needs truth. Her creativity brings me back to the core of why I build anything at all. Photo: Mark Jupiter 4. Watching a Great Artist Work There’s a sacredness to watching someone who’s mastered their craft. Whether it’s a painter, a chef, or a sculptor – that zone they enter is electric. One of the most powerful examples was working with the artist Craig Anthony Miller – CAM – who created a commissioned mural for my new DUMBO showroom. He painted it right in my shop, and I had the privilege of watching him work every day. The decisions, the energy, the confidence – it was all a kind of a moving meditation. Photo: Mark Jupiter 5. Goats And then there’s this one – me and a goat, sharing a moment. I’ve always had a deep love for goats… really, most farm animals. Not in a Deliverance kind of way – just in a grounded, soul-level kind of way. Goats especially. You give them a little kiss, feed them some grain, and the next minute they’ll surprise you with a good-natured head butt when you least expect it. It’s their honesty I love – no pretense. Although I was born and raised in New York City, I’ve always felt a real connection to the mountains and farm country of upstate New York. There’s something about that life that stays with you, even when you’re back in the city, covered in sawdust.   Works by Mark Jupiter: Photo: Mark Jupiter Mark Jupiter DUMBO Showroom When I first started the company, I wanted to reimagine how people experience custom furniture. It wasn’t enough to just have a great shop – I knew I needed a showroom that felt equally considered. That’s why I built them side by side. Clients can walk in and see the finished pieces in a curated environment, then step through the doors and watch those same pieces being crafted by hand. It’s a full-circle experience – one that honors both the artistry of the object and the integrity of the process behind it. Photo: Courtesy of KITH KITH’s Women’s exclusive flagship store in Soho The KITH Women’s flagship store in SoHo is one of the latest chapters in an ongoing collaboration with KITH and its founder, Ronnie Feig. It all started with the Daisy Coffee Table, a piece I designed and named after my daughter. From that single gesture grew a multi-year, now global partnership, bringing the essence of that same design into KITH spaces worldwide. It’s a rare thing when a personal story becomes part of a larger cultural one, and I’m grateful to be building that story together. Photo: Mark Jupiter The Jacqueline Desk This is the Jacqueline Desk. Its quiet elegance and underlying complexity are what I’m most proud of. It’s a form I’ve adapted over time into desks, dining tables, and custom pieces in all shapes, sizes, and finishes. Like many of my designs, it’s named after someone I love and admire. This one is especially close to my heart. It’s named after my sister Amy Jacqueline Jupiter – a brilliant woman who, like the piece itself, is both elegant and beautifully complex. Photo: Mark Jupiter The Gabriel Credenza The Gabriel Credenza is a unique piece originally designed for a client inspired by the slow, hypnotic movement of his lava lamp. That’s where the curves and organic flow originate. Equally meaningful is the name. I named it after Gabriel Davis, the craftsperson who brought it to life. Gabriel has been a part of my studio for nearly eight years, and he’s one of the most gifted furniture makers I’ve ever known. The man is a genius with a table saw, and this piece carries both his precision and his spirit. Photo: Courtesy of KITH Collaboration with KITH and Bose I was asked by KITH and Bose to reimagine the classic 901 Speaker for its 60th anniversary. Working with Ronnie Feig and the engineers at Bose – individuals at the top of their creative game – was both a privilege and a creative high point. The exchange of ideas, the trust, and the shared pursuit of excellence – that’s the kind of collaboration I live for.

What’s the Best Way to Cut Onions Without Crying? New Research Suggests That Thin, Sharp Blades Are Key to Minimizing Tears For a new study, physicists visualized and quantified the tear-producing droplets that get expelled from onions when they’re cut New research suggests using a thin, sharp knife and cutting slowly could help prevent crying while cutting onions. Pexels From wearing goggles to rubbing the knife with lemon juice, home cooks have come up with a wide variety of clever tricks to keep themselves from crying while cutting onions in the kitchen. Now, physicists have come up with another possible solution. Using a sharp knife while making slow, controlled cuts seems to be the best way to minimize the spray of tear-producing compounds in onions, according to a new study. The paper has been published on the preprint server arXiv and has not yet been peer reviewed. Scientists know why onions make us cry: When cut, these spherical alliums produce a chemical that stimulates the nerves responsible for producing tears. The volatile, irritating compound is called syn-propanethial-S-oxide. But, recently, a team of physicists decided to explore the underlying mechanisms at play when syn-propanethial-S-oxide gets released from onions. Using techniques known as high-speed particle tracking velocimetry and digital image correlation, they were able to visualize and count droplets as they were being expelled from cut onions, per IFLScience’s Russell Moul. They also studied the onions themselves, making note of strain and deformations on the flesh during chopping. To start, the team gathered fresh onions from local vendors, cut them into halves or quarters, then coated them in black spray paint. (This step made it easier for them to see and track what was happening when the alliums got cut.) Then, they set up a high-speed camera and started chopping. “Cutting is a really strange process,” says Anne Juel, a physicist at the University of Manchester who was not involved with the research, to NewScientist’s Alex Wilkins. “We cut things with knives every day, but to cut something, you need to go down to the atomic scale.” Using a custom guillotine, the researchers experimented with cutting speeds ranging from 1.3 and 6.5 feet per second and blade thicknesses between 5 and 200 millimeters. They changed the steel blades manually and modified the speed by adjusting the height of the blade, which was released from above. By analyzing the footage from the high-speed camera, they could investigate the dynamics of tear-producing particles that sprayed out from the onion as it was cut. The thinner, sharper blades produced fewer droplets that moved more slowly and with less energy, they found. Meanwhile, the thicker, duller blades caused an explosion of high-speed particles that moved at up to 141 feet per second. This is because the dull blade initially bent the onion skin, which caused pressure to build up inside. When the blade finally sliced through, it released all that built-up energy and sent onion juice flying. Then, once the particles were in the air, they also fragmented into smaller pieces to create “an even more diffuse mist of all-natural mace,” writes Andrew Paul for Popular Science. The duller blades produced as much as 40 times more particles than the sharper blades. Faster cutting speeds produced up to four times as many droplets as slower speeds. This suggests that the best way to minimize tear-producing chemicals while chopping onions is to cut slowly with a thin, sharp knife. However, the researchers did not test this theory in their experiments, per NewScientist. Refrigerated onions released a “noticeably larger volume” of droplets compared to room-temperature onions, the researchers write. Pixabay Home cooks are often advised to chill their onions before cutting them to minimize crying. So, the researchers also experimented with onions that had been refrigerated for 12 hours. However, in their tests, the refrigerated onions released a “noticeably larger volume” of droplets compared to room-temperature onions. Preventing tears while cutting onions might seem like a trivial research topic. But the scientists say their work could also have important implications for food safety. The fragmented droplets that spray out of raw foods while they’re being cut could contribute to the spread of disease-causing pathogens, the researchers write in the paper. “Ejected droplets can come into direct contact with contaminated blades or carry surface-borne pathogens as they leave the food surface,” they write. “Lighter droplets [are] readily suspended and can be transported by ambient air currents, thereby posing a potential risk for airborne transmission.” Keeping knife blades sharp, then, might be an easy way to help reduce food-borne illnesses, they posit. “Sharper blades reduce not only the number of droplets but also their speed and kinetic energy,” the scientists write in the paper. “This is particularly relevant for fruits and vegetables, which can carry food-borne pathogens such as Salmonella.” Many other recent research projects have attempted to use science to solve everyday problems. Scientists have visualized the plume of aerosolized particles ejected from commercial toilets during flushing, and some are even coming up with new urinal designs to help reduce urine splashing. And in the realm of enhancing food, Italian physicists came up with the perfect cacio e pepe recipe, while others have figured out the best way to make pour-over coffee and boil an egg. Get the latest stories in your inbox every weekday. More about: Food Food Science New Research Physics

There’s something uniquely satisfying about putting down roots in a sleepy town in games like Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley, or Disney Dreamlight Valley. Palia evolves this tradition to great effect, injecting large-scale multiplayer into that tried-and-true formula. After more than 70 hours of chopping down trees, hunting woodland critters, decorating my home, and hanging out with my fellow Palians, I’ve had a fantastic time catching up on all I’ve missed since the early days of the beta. There are beautiful regions to explore, interesting items and artifacts to craft or collect, and lots of compelling quests to complete – and the new content in the Elderwood expansion that arrived alongside its console launch added quite a bit to what was already a life-consuming vortex of coziness. That said, Palia still feels quite unfinished in some ways, with a story that abruptly cuts off right in the middle and some pretty serious bugs and performance issues plaguing it, but it’s easy to forgive much of that when you and your friends are enjoying a quiet evening of fishing together.Palia is a cozy life sim with one major tweak: you’re in an online world that occasionally compels you to come out of your shell and interact with other humans – a sometimes Herculean task for the introverts often drawn to this genre. As you explore, you’ll encounter others out in the shared world going about their business, and are encouraged (or sometimes required) to cooperate with them. For example, you’ll get a buff for fishing with others and will find magical trees that can only be chopped down with the help of one or more friends. This has led to a community that’s astoundingly positive and helpful, with the vast majority of the public chat being PSAs from players who have found a valuable resource they’d like to share with strangers, then waiting for minutes on end for everyone to assemble before collecting it as a group. I spend a lot of time playing multiplayer games defined by the community’s potent toxicity and savage greed, so this kind of culture was truly a shock to my system that took me a long time to adjust to.PlayAlthough multiplayer is its signature twist, you can still do the vast majority of Palia’s activities by yourself. There’s also just a whole heck of a lot for you to do however you decide to tackle it, all in service of building up your home and improving your relationships with the NPC townsfolk. The usual zen-like staples of cooking and catching bugs are all here and actually quite good – the fishing minigame, for example, is less mindless than you usually find in the genre, having you tug and pull on your rod as the fish leaps into the air and puts up a fight. There’s even a few less common options like hunting, where you’ll pick off poor critters who burrow into the ground and leap into trees as you pepper them with arrows. While an absence of stress is an intentional focus of Palia’s design, it sometimes tries a bit too hard to accomplish that goal, like in how your arrows will magically home in on your target incredibly aggressively, sometimes turning corners to aid your aim. I’m all for a laid back experience, but it can be a bit obnoxious when you’re trying to line up a shot and the magnetism training wheels curve your arrow toward a different creature altogether, frustrating what’s supposed to be a chill activity.Palia has a surprisingly full-featured main story as well. It has you exploring ancient ruins to uncover the truth about a world which was once populated by humans who are curiously gone now, and the dark history of magic that seemingly caused the collapse of society. This adventure is much more light-hearted than that might sound, though, and you’re mostly just given opportunities to learn about the world and hang out with the characters who accompany you on quests while you platform around and solve simple puzzles. Per Palia’s adherence to cozy virtues, none of this is particularly demanding, and the mainline quests can be completed in a matter of hours if you focus on them, but I enjoyed diving just a tad deeper into the world and the break from grinding for iron ore to craft the next piece of furniture I just couldn’t live without.The usual staples of cooking and fishing are all here, and quite good.“That said, while I quite enjoy the tale Palia tells, it feels disappointingly incomplete compared to every other aspect of the adventure – even after the Elderwood expansion arrived. The original cliffhanger ending was replaced by yet another hanging chad just an hour or two later, with a handful of chores and a brief new major dungeon spread across a surprisingly short bit of story. You’re telling me I’ve got this massive new map to explore, new creatures to hunt, and new characters to romance, but we still haven’t finished even one arc in the main plot.Thankfully, there are plenty of distractions and minigames to mix things up, like a hotpot-themed card game I spent way too much time playing, or a surprisingly intricate platforming puzzle that took me hours to master. Sometimes these experiments exceed Palia’s grasp, like the platforming sections in particular, which are held back by clunky controls that don’t seem like they were designed with precision in mind – climbing can be quite an irritating experience as your character will let go of surfaces inconsistently, sending you plummeting to your death. But the stakes in taking these spills are always very low, so there’s not much to lose aside from a bit of your time wasted. Other times, you’ll find yourself doing a sliding picture puzzle and think “y’know, this is pretty nice,” so I mostly found myself happy they took these shots nonetheless.TieGuyTravis' Favorite Cozy GamesIf you're looking for a game that pairs well with a warm blanket and a hot cup of tea, look no further than these TieGuyTravis-approved recommendations.See AllOf course, the purpose behind all these undertakings is to gain as much gold as you can to upgrade and decorate your home, and Palia’s got one of the better home building systems I’ve seen. Rather than giving you no control over the blueprint of your house like in Animal Crossing or Disney Dreamlight Valley, or making you monkey around with a building mode that has you placing individual walls like The Sims, Palia favors a modular system: You unlock schematics for pieces of a home that you can freely snap onto various parts of your building, making it easy to design the general layout without having to get lost in the weeds. Then, once you’ve built your place, you can decorate it down to the most minute detail, dragging furniture, dolls, and cups around on a grid to make it just so. I could probably spend dozens of hours on this part of Palia alone, were it not for my insatiable need for cold hard cash to fund my homestead expansion. But that desire to make your place exactly as awesome as you want it to be is a serious motivator that sent me out in search of lumber and iron ore time and time again.Those resource grinds each have their own progression systems as well, as you level up by repeatedly going out into the world and bringing back your haul of raw materials and collectibles to sell. As you plant trees and craft furniture, you’ll unlock new equipment like a loom for creating fabric or a furnace for creating glass. You’ll also get better tools to perform cozy chores with, like a hoe that lets you till land faster or a bow and arrows that will let you take down prey in fewer shots, each of which feels like a handy upgrade that shows up at exactly the right moment you start feeling a need for it. The timegating that sometimes boxes you out of marathoning through everything in other life sims is mercifully absent here for the most part, so you can move as fast or as slow as you care to.Palia has one of the better home building systems I’ve seen. “The other major pursuit in Palia is in getting to know and develop relationships with its 26 NPC residents, most of whom are really well-written and have a lot more to them than meets the eye. Most have an arc that takes place over several quests where they let you see a bit more of their personality as you forge a friendship. I quite enjoyed hanging out with the sarcastic and moody daughter of the mayor, Kenyatta, who worked the front desk with all the enthusiasm of April from Parks and Recreation – but after helping her down the extremely chaotic path of discovering what she’s passionate about in life, I grew to appreciate her in a less superficial way. Even characters I really didn't jive with like Elouisa, a cryptid-obsessed hippy who annoyed me to no end, was at least entertainingly irritating, and I’ve learned to appreciate how much her personality bothers me over time. (We’ve all got a friend like that, don’t we?) And, of course, if you’re looking for more than friendship you can partake in Palia’s quite strong dating mechanics to get yourself a girlfriend or boyfriend, or several of them – no judging here.Unfortunately, this is one area where timegating gets in the way of a good time, and is one of the only places Palia boxes you out. You’re only allowed to chat with each character once per in-game day (a 30-minute period of real time), which improves your social links a very small amount, and you can only give each character a gift once per real world day. So if you’re trying to finish a particular character’s story, you’ll have to log on with regularity and be subjected to the same rotation of brief banter before you’re able to make any real progress. This is especially painful early on when your citizenship in Kilima Village is dependent on having someone in town to vouch for you – a task that’s made impossible to do in a short span by timegating. When every other area of Palia lets you play to your heart’s content, it’s pretty annoying to see such an essential part of this slice of life block you from progressing at your own pace.The Elderwood ExpansionThe Elderwood expansion is the most recent addition to Palia, and the biggest content update since its 2023 debut by far. It adds a substantial map with several small regions to explore and interesting new enemies to hunt (like really good frog-like creatures that spit reptilian phlegm at you), and some neat gadgets and quality of life improvements to enjoy. The Elderwood region is filled with color and weird creatures, which are quite unlike the two base maps, injecting some much needed variety into the world. Some of the additions, like relics that make tracking down materials easier and new resource nodes like palium and platinum, are fantastic things to pursue if you’re like me and have already accumulated hundreds of copper and iron. There’s even a new NPC to meet, Ulfe, a wild child who has a very different vibe than the rest of the cast so far, and who I enjoyed having a series of communication breakdowns with. Elderwood certainly doesn’t rock the boat in any major way, but it’s a nice, and overdue supplement that simply offers more of the Palia I already know and love.Palia has come a long way since I first played it over a year ago, but one thing that remained true after this latest update is that it’s still missing quite a bit. Even with the beefy new Elderwood map joining the original two, the number of areas to explore is fairly small, and though they’ve got nooks and crannies for you to discover, you can more-or-less see most of what’s available in a few hours. Social features, though awesome when they happen, still feel quite slim for a game where the killer feature is supposed to be its online functionality, and there aren’t enough activities that encourage group play. And although there are quite a few options for decorating your house, surprisingly little of it can be interacted with once placed. You can’t lie in bed, turn on the sink, or really do much of anything with most objects, which sometimes made me feel like I was building a museum rather than a home. (They did add the ability to flick the light switches on and off, which is at least something.) Elderwood isn’t planned to be the final update or anything, so these are shortcomings that will hopefully be built out in the future, but I’m a bit surprised that some of them aren’t farther along all the same.The other major issue with Palia has been its bugs and performance issues, which have gotten remarkably better but are still pretty common. I quite frequently see NPCs sink into the floor, sometimes altogether hidden underground to the point where I can’t interact with them, there’s a bunch of very visible pop-in that happens while you’re running around, and loading times when traveling between each section of the map feel far longer than they should. Playing on the Nintendo Switch is especially eyebrow raising, as everything looks pretty awful and runs significantly worse, to the point where I really can’t recommend it on that platform in the same way I enthusiastically would elsewhere.

Constructive Crit RoadCraft review: Streamlined building biz beset by bumbling AI Bobs Can we fix it? Well, that often depends on whether you’ll let me deliver the bits myself. Image credit: VG247 Review by Mark Warren Senior Staff Writer Published on May 19, 2025 It’s getting close to 10PM on a Friday night. There’s a slightly muddy hill. Halfway up it, their tires spinning helplessly, are two trucks carrying goods they need to deliver to a shed about half the map away. I sigh, and give my bulldozer/cargo truck the beans. As one fourteen-wheeled mass, we begin to crawl up the gentle slope, which would be easy pickings if the AI-manned haulers glued to my front scoop had any off-roading capabilities whatsoever. They don’t. There’s no driving skill to make up for it, either. If they run into an obstacle during the course of the route I’ve plotted out for them which can’t be overcome by simply reversing and pulling forwards less than three times, they just give up. Small rocks terrify them, turns that happen to be in any way sharp are the banes of their existence, and sometimes they seem to roll over just for a laugh. They need me. When I’m not Bob the builder, I’m Bob the babysitter. To see this content please enable targeting cookies. What I’ve just described is one of the main things that sets RoadCraft - the latest entry in Saber Interactive’s Spintires series of off-roading sims - from its rugged, outdoorsy siblings. These games, MudRunner, SnowRunner, and last year’s Expeditions, were generally games about you - the player - getting from A to B through untamed environments and getting stuck when you messed it up. I’ve regularly, and slightly sarkily, compared these games to the driving equivalent of FromSoft’s boss battlers. Notoriously unforgiving adventures about eventual success earned through overwhelming skill or luck, and usually preempted by a crap-tonne of failure that gradually pushes those who haven’t already taken their lumps in the direction of doing the right thing. When you’re behind the wheel, RoadCraft’s by far the least hardcore title in its delivery of that gameplay loop that Saber has put out to this point. Don’t get me wrong, there’s still a learning curve and plenty of ways to mess up that’ll require a reset. However, in its creation of a game that’s more focused on construction, maintenance, and logistics management than it is straight-up haulage or frontier-conquering exploration, the studio’s simplified things. As you carry out jobs, you no longer have to keep a watchful eye on your fuel gauge or do any repairs if you slam into a wall. RoadCraft’s fleet is permanently fully-fueled and indestructible unless you roll over, sink, or otherwise get wedged in a spot you can’t extricate yourself from. While this, and the resulting lack of an in-depth upgrade system for vehicles, might be a bit frustrating to hardcore haulers, you can see why Saber’s opted to do it. See? Told you there are still ways you can monumentally mess things up. | Image credit: VG247/Saber The rides you’re handed the keys to this time are generally a lot more specialised towards very specific roles for the jobs you’ll be doing as the game walks you through getting locations which have suffered different kinds of natural disaster - from floods, to earthquakes, to hurricanes - up and running again. You’re running a construction firm that you start off by naming and picking out a livery/logo combo for. When you first deploy into one of the maps, which thankfully are openly free-roamable outside jobs unlike those in Expeditions, you’ll do the usual thing and head out in a nippy scout 4x4 to recon the environment. Then, your re-construction efforts begin, and can be divided into about five or six different general activities you’ll do in various orders and with different quirks as you progress - scouting, logging, road and bridge building, plotting routes for AI supply runs, debris clearing, and resource delivery. In terms of the latter, there are four types of resources you’ll need to fix various things - logs, steel beams, metal pipes, and concrete slabs - all of which you’ll acquire by either recycling debris at the plants on each map that part of your job is to get up and running. Getting ahold of those, ferrying them where they need to go, and installing them is done in very SnowRunnery fashion, albeit with manual loading being your only option. As such, the vehicle I’ve spent by far the most time in during my time with the game so far is the Mule T1 crane cargo truck. As the name suggests, it’s a lorry with very decent off-roading capabilities that’s built to transport goods, and even boasts its own built-in crane. (Slaps roof) You know how much junk this Mule can haul? | Image credit: VG247-Saber If you’re playing solo, it’s by far the most important purchase you’ll make early on, because its good stats and that crane mean it’s ideal to handle the vast majority of haulage jobs the game gives you. There is a point where some loads start to get a bit too heavy for it to deal with easily, but I’ve made it up to level 12 so far and it’s still the heart of my fleet. That arguably exposes a bit of a flaw in RoadCraft’s launch vehicle offerings - there’s only one or very occasionally two better successors you can unlock for each of the different vehicle types as you progress. You do unlock some new types of vehicle around the midpoint, such as a heavy crane and beefier cargo truck that together can handle the heavier loads the Mule struggles with, but in plenty of cases there’s a beginner rusty variant of a specific vehicle, a refurbished version of the exact same model with slightly better stats, and then an advanced variant you’ll unlock once you’re starting to home in on the endgame. The most egregious example of this is with the field service vehicles. There are two. One you’re given for free at the start of the game and can’t even be repainted in your company livery as far as I can tell, and then its endgame replacement, which you won’t unlock until level 20, which based on my progress so far looks like it’ll be when you’ve basically finished all of the game’s current content. You’re still unlocking one or two new vehicles or variants of existing vehicles with each level you gain to help freshen things up a bit, but the relatively thin depth at each position and lack of part customisation means the sense of progression feels a lot more limited. No doubt there’ll be plenty of DLC to beef up the roster, but Focus seems to be leaning a bit too heavily on that. C. W. McCall intensifies. | Image credit: VG247/Saber Combined with the aforementioned stripping out of stuff like fuel management, and the XP/cash rewards for jobs being quite generous (the latter especially so because you aren’t constantly spending on upgrades), to this point RoadCraft is the entry in the uber-hard Spintires series I’ve made my way through with the least struggle. The one exception to that, as I outlined in the intro, is that damn route plotting for AI trucks. If it’s the part of the game that’s supposed to dial the difficulty back up, it certainly does just that at regular points, often in infuriating fashion. If I’ve gotten stuck while driving, usually because I’ve done something stupid, that’s annoying, but at the end of the day it’s on me to do a better job. If an AI lorry I’ve already built a bunch of bridges and roads for requires me to follow it along its entire route and do some push-based babysitting whenever it encounters the tiniest obstacle because it’s using a truck that only works on perfectly straight asphalt highways, that’s less easy to take on the chin. Kudos to Saber for trying something different, but some of the ways I’ve had to resort to helping its lorry Lemmings feel like they pretty much defeat the point of not having me just make the deliveries myself. While folks who take a bit more time to clear the perfect path might well find RoadCraft lacking a bit of challenge, I’ve personally enjoyed the non-AI lorry bits of it generally being a lot more chill than the usual. The game’s at its best when you’re heading to a base or driving your field service vehicle somewhere and setting up to spend some time doing a specific job. Both act as spawn points for vehicles, though the latter requires fuel tokens that’re pretty easy to earn from side jobs. Once you’re there, you’ll be doing something like watching the four stages of RoadCraft’s namesake party trick, building roads by dumping sand with a dump truck, using a dozer to flatten it, wheeling out your paver to coat it an asphalt, and then hopping in a steamroller to make it nice and smooth. It’s as mega-satisfying as you always dream baking a cake will be, even if the first step can be pretty unforgiving because it’s near impossible to drop sand in a nice uniform fashion. Luckily, you’ve got the choice to do each step manually or let the computer do it automatically, with the latter tending to go ok given you’re only making short stretches of road. Well, unless your paver finds a small rock you haven’t cleared. It's a piece of cake to lay a pretty road. If the way is hazy, you gotta do the laying by the codex. | Image credit: VG247/Saber Logging by chopping down trees with a tree harvester, picking up the big twigs with a log hauler, and then cleaning up your mess with a stump mulcher is just as fun. There’s not as much process to laying electrical wires between different spots on the map to power up substations, but finding a way to guide the comically unwieldy cable layer through the backwoods has its good moments, even if it’s possible to get stuck in weird ways. Overall, RoadCraft offers a unique enough twist on the established Spintires formula, if a streamlined one, to be worth giving a go. Some series veterans will end up longing for the elements it’s stripped out, especially when the new stuff that’s been drafted in is being more frustrating than fun. But, that central loop of frustration giving way to jubilation as you overcome the environment is still there and regularly just as satisfying. Especially when the convoy you’ve spent all evening pushing up hills finally reaches its destination. RoadCraft releases on March 20 for PC, Xbox Series X/S, and PS5. This review was conducted on PS5 using a code provided by the publisher.

The Internet has greatly shortened product life cycles. Objects that stood the test of time offer lessons for today. So do designs that are intentionally ephemeral.Designing applications or websites means your designs don’t survive very long. Even if your product or app survives for a decade or more, there will be pressure to update the design every few years. This got me wondering how long designs of other things stay around. So here is a curated survey of how long our designs survive.Sticky NotesThe sticky note… a lab experiment gone awry(average lifespan: several hours) — The ubiquitous sticky note famously emerged from a lab experiment gone awry. Glue that wasn’t very sticky. Although sticky notes have been around for 45 years, the life of any single sticky note is probably measured in hours, not days. Nevertheless they have been a boon to brainstorming sessions and design sprints around the world. Their ephemeral nature is the key to their value. Don’t like what you wrote? Throw it out and write another one. Don’t think it belongs in this group? Move it to another. Sticky notes are the rare object that is as easily used digitally as their physical counterparts.Sand MandalaA finished sand mandala — Attribution: By the original uploader was Colonel Warden at English Wikipedia. — Transferred from en.wikipedia to Commons by SMasters using CommonsHelper., CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=16371236(in use for a few days or weeks) — A sand mandala is a symbolic representation of the universe made of colored sand. Creating them is a ceremonial act practiced by Tibetan monks and nuns and takes a few days to several weeks to create. Constructing one is an act of meditation requiring immense focus. After the mandala is finished, it is on view for only a short period of time. It is then destroyed in a dissolution ceremony meant to emphasize the impermanence of all things. Finally the sand is released into a river to transfer the spirits embodied in the mandala back into nature and the rest of the world.The first time I saw a video of this process, it shocked my world. The design was vivid, ornate, and beautiful. To see something so beautiful then destroyed by the people who made it jolted me. When swept into a pile, the vivid pigments quickly become a single gray mass. They are an amazing lesson about the nature of our lives and the world of things.WebsitesThe SF bay area edition of Craigslist.com barely changed from when it launched in 1995!(in use for 32 years) — The lifespan of your average website is about 2 years according to this post. Many sites are up for much longer but even those tend to need a refresh. Craigslist is the notable exception by still proudly sporting its original 1995 web 1.0 look and feel. I’ve worked on around 14 websites and apps. Of those, only 2 (7%) are live and still reflect the design I worked on. As dominant as the Internet is in today’s culture, “built to last” simply does not apply. Permanence is an anti-pattern.Thonet №14 ChairThe Thonet №14 Chair — Attribution: This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.(in use for 166 years) — Michael Thonet’s №14 Chair is a design classic. Simple and minimal. Introduced in 1859, It was the first chair to be mass produced but does not look like an industrial product. It is sometimes called the cafe chair due to its strong association with Parisian cafes. It was also sometimes referred to as the “lion-tamer chair”. You can see one in use in this post.BicycleThe ‘Flying Pigeon’ bicycle. Since the 1950s, over 500 million of these bikes have been produced and sold.(in use for 208 years) — The bicycle was invented in Germany and introduced in Paris around 1817. It is an amazing design object matched only by its engineering simplicity. The basic triangular geometry is minimal, strong, and still recognizable 200 years after being invented. There have been many improvements to the underlying technologies but the basic design remains.BuildingsThe Pantheon of Rome — Attribution: By Macrons — Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=49683083The Pantheon in Rome was completed around 126 AD and has been in continuous use for almost 2000 years. It is widely considered the oldest building still in continuous use today. It began as a Roman temple. For the ceiling of the Parthenon, the Romans used cement mixed with ash which kept it light but strong. In the 7th century, it became a Christian church, the Basilica of St. Mary and the Martyrs. Adaptive reuse helped preserve it through centuries of war, weather, and regime changes.“Built to last” is a phrase sometimes used for things like old cars, buildings, and walls. It certainly applies to the pyramids and the Pantheon. It is much less frequently applied to objects today. It doen’t apply to the majority of objects we use in our daily lives. Consumer culture has driven us towards a throw away culture. This impacts the environment and our ability to build things to last.What does it take to build something that will last?This is a question asked by Louis Kahn, one of the great American architects. His Exeter Library is his answer. He wanted to pursue an architecture that would stand the test of time. He wanted to build something that would be monumental, strong and, like the pyramids, remain beautiful even in ruin.The interior of the Phillips Exeter Academy Library showing the raw, monumental cement building structure. Image source: https://www.reddit.com/r/ArchitecturePornCities(in use for 11,000 years) — The title of oldest continuously inhabited city is a subject of debate but Damascus is often credited as the oldest city still in use today. Jericho is older but was not in continuous use. Jerusalem & Athens both date back about 5000 years. From a design perspective, I marvel at Venice. It’s been in existence for over 1000 years. Its lasting beauty is amazing when you realize it was originally built to escape invaders on the mainland. The buildings, plazas, along with the canals and bridges that connect them are an amazing experience.The Bucentaur Returns to the Pier at the Doge’s Palace (c. 1730) by Canaletto — Attribution: Google Arts & Culture — mwEV7sO9uSFCpw, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22572210Mortar & PestleThe mortar & pestle — symbol of the pharmacist — Attribution: Image by Evan-Amos — Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=12038229Beyond using our teeth, we’ve been grinding up food and other materials for about 37,000 years. The Mortar & Pestle was likely used initially to prepare grains and seeds to be more digestible but they had many other uses.They are still widely used today (guacamole anyone?) and have come to symbolize the pharmaceutical profession. As someone who cooks, I’m glad we figured out ground spices makes tastier dishes.Pyramids(built 4000 years ago) — The Great Pyramid of Giza was the tallest human-made structure in the world for 3800 years. I’m including pyramids for age reference only. How long they’ve been “in use” raises tricky questions. Should we measure use by the initial construction; as amazing ruins we only look at; or as a tomb for a dead pharaoh? They certainly were amazing feats of engineering.Bow & arrow / stone arrowheads(in use for 37,000–74,000 years) — These two designs are best taken as a connected journey. Arrows are an evolution of the stone-tipped spear. The bow & arrow was a leap in the efficiency and precision of throwing a spear. The innovation allowed hunters to remain farther away from their prey. The bow, arrow, and stone arrowhead built on the previous technology (an interesting concept known as “the adjacent possible” richly described by Steven Johnson in, ‘Where Good Ideas Come From’). Each element required an increase in precision and skill and offered advances over the previous tool. Older arrowheads were mostly focused on the general shape and cutting edges. Later versions were shaped to be more firmly lashed to wooden spears. As the first to enter the battlefield, U.S. Marines sometimes refer to themselves as, “the tip of the spear”. A 74,000 year old metaphor that is still understandable today.Hand axeIllustration of a hand axe.Imagine designing a product that was so good it was used for a million years. That’s 1,000,000 years! I remember seeing a hand axe in the “Tools: Extending Our Reach” exhibit at the Smithsonian’s Cooper Hewitt National Design Museum. I pondered it as a design object that dwarfed my career as a designer. The hand axe is a physical testament to both the slowness of early hominid evolution and the enduring utility of the object. The key innovation was the ever more skilled chipping away of flakes to create the cutting edge. Older versions of the axe are barely recognizable as being intentionally created. Later versions however, show two distinct functional requirements. The part that you held needed to be broad and round so as to be comfortable in the hand. While “the business end” had sharp, carefully-shaped cutting edges. I marvel at anything being used for this incomprehensible span of time.Final thoughts“If you want to go quickly, go alone. But if you want to go far, go together.” — African ProverbAs I wrote this post, I thought about the lessons of these very different objects. Here are my takeaways.Monumental acts take monumental teams — It takes incredible effort by many people to build something that has great impact and will last. Monumental achievements are never accomplished by one person. Each hand axe was likely created by one person but the concept we now know as the hand axe happened over a million years of usage. Venice is a singular experience. But building it required the work of many people over centuries.Adaptation is key to survival — The Pantheon survived in part because it is a space flexible in use. If your designs are to survive, you must hand them off to others. Loving caretakers are as important as passionate creators.Celebrate the ephemeral — Sand mandalas and sticky notes allow us to create something without becoming too attached to it. Having worked on lots of long-term projects, I’ve always found making dinner to be a positive antidote. Chopping vegetables can be meditative. A meal is finished in an hour or 2 and then you get to enjoy the creation. Simple acts are still creative.A graph showing how long these designs have been use. The hand axe was excluded because its million years of use reduces the other objects to tiny, barely visible bars.ReferenceTimeline of oldest human inventions — WikipediaOldest still standing buildings — WikipediaHow long designs survive was originally published in UX Collective on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.