Across five games and through much of ancient Greece he’s wreaked havoc, but where should Kratos be heading now?

Give us a villainous vampire we can get our teeth into, not one of these winsome wimps

The return of a cult fantasy show tempts even a sceptical viewer to mug up on myths and maps

It's back on the box from tomorrow and Tim Lott explains why its blend of swords, sorcery and sex is such a winner

Deadlight is more than just your average zombie-blaster.

“Give us a smile,” jokes a heckler in the audience. He didn’t have a chance in hell. The 48-year-old grunge warrior simply trudged on with “One Way Street”, growling “I drink so much sour whiskey/ I can hardly see”. Mark Lanegan doesn’t do light, frivolity or whimsy. He deals in cataloguing the murkier alleyways of the human soul: death, drunkenness, sordidness (“Those feral girls will suit me more than/ Gloss from drugstore magazines,” he snarls tonight on “Sleep with Me”), substance abuse and the apocalypse (“The end could be soon, we'd better rent a room/ So you can love me,” he reasons on “Wedding Dress”).

My first thought when I embarked on this project was: do women write porn?

St Helens 32 Catalan Dragons 34

In the brave new world of social media development, budding entrepreneurs need more than bright ideas. How can educators nurture the skills required to produce a winning formula?

The Roots is the first part of a Family Tree trilogy by Radical Face, aka solo artist Ben Cooper, who recorded the album in his mother's Jacksonville toolshed, using only instruments available to the 19th-century protagonists of his fictional family. It's a gambit reminiscent of The Band's second album and Sufjan Stevens's 50 States project, and Cooper employs the frail Americana vocalese employed by such as Stevens, Jason Lytle and Jonathan Donahue, in relating his grim tales of hardship, desertion and death in childbirth, with occasional glimmering lights provided by the unbreakable fellowship of family. With tack piano, acoustic guitar and banjo borne along by simple beats, and shaded with wheezing accordion, smears of strings and ambient sounds, the authentic echoes of history gust around Cooper's sepia-tint stories.

Those of you who follow this thread – don’t laugh, there are such people – will be glad to hear that I have learned a good deal more about the in-flight reading habits of the Catalan Dragons.

Embracing the ghost at cold comfort farm

The thing is...