This article originally appeared on VICE UK.

It's time for EVO, once again, with digital fists flying from July 17–19. For those not in the know, EVO is the world's premier fighting game event, where competitors travel from all over the world to a hotel convention suite in Las Vegas to prove that they're the best at their chosen pugilistic game—and ultimately leaving what is becoming a substantial amount of money for pulverizing buttons and yanking sticks. It always turns out to be a fascinating and entertaining weekend and well worth checking out, but it might seem a bit intimidating for those who don't know what the hell a FADC is. To help with that, here's a guide to the basics of each game featured at EVO 2015 and why you, as a newcomer, should check them out.

ULTRA STREET FIGHTER IV

The big one. With Street Fighter V set for release in early 2016, it is likely that this EVO is the last time Street Fighter IV takes the center stage. But it is ever going out with a bang. A huge injection of cash from Capcom and new suitors of the Street Fighter series, Sony, means that the prize pool is the biggest to date. Seeing as it's estimated that last year's winner walked away with $30k, a lot of veteran players have returned for a chance at winning even bigger money.

Why Watch?
Why watch the World Cup final? The Street Fighter finals are where the absolute elite face off against one another, and they're almost always full of drama. Expect to see big things from last year's winner, Luffy, who plays with a customized PSOne controller, as well as the legendary Daigo Umehara, arguably the best Street Fighter player of all time, but who hasn't taken first place in Street Fighter at EVO for five years. The UK will likely be represented by Ryan Hart, a consistent top-eight competition finisher who will be looking to improve on his top-25 placing last year.

MARVEL VS CAPCOM 3

A.k.a. Mahvel. The MvC games have been a fixture of EVO since the very beginning, creating some of the competition's most memorable moments. Recently, however, the game has waned in popularity. There's no updates planned and due to Marvel's deal with Disney we're unlikely to ever see a new installment. Despite this, the MvC 3 finals will likely feature some of the most exciting drama of the entire weekend.

Why Watch?
Where else are you going to see the Incredible Hulk, Thor, and the lad from Ghouls 'n Ghosts take on Spider-Man, Ryu, and Dr. Doom? MvC 3's ridiculous, high-speed combat is quite the sight to behold, despite being a bit overwhelming for newcomers. One of the more interesting wrinkles in this year's tournament is that Justin Wong, current EVO Marvel champ, has put a bounty on himself and several other major players, paying cash from his own pocket to anyone good enough to step up and eliminate them from the tournament. Ballsy.

SUPER SMASH BROS

After Nintendo pulled a bit of a Lars Ulrich a few years ago when they tried to get Smash Bros banned from the EVO live stream, showing that they were painfully out touch with a large part of modern gaming, everyone's kissed and made up and EVO 2015 has two major Smash Bros tournaments: one on the latest Wii U release, and one on the GameCube classic Super Smash Bros Melee. The Smash games have a huge following and are usually some of the biggest tournaments of the weekend, but they're very much their own thing, with little player crossover with the other titles.

Why Watch?
The Smash Bros games are the absolute best place to start if you're an EVO novice. They're filled with characters that everyone knows, all doing things they're known for, and with the simple goal of knocking one another off the stage the rules are immediately understandable. It's very visual, and once you've got your head around the basics you'll quickly start recognizing skillful play both offensively and defensively—the Smash Bros equivalents of a goal-line clearance or a 30-yard screamer of a free kick.

Related: Watch VICE's documentary on the competitive gaming scene, eSports

Like your fists a little more fleshy? Watch 'Bare Knuckle.'

KILLER INSTINCT

One of the most underrated beat 'em ups in quite a while, the Xbox One's Killer Instinct has attracted quite a few of the big-name Marvel players. Perhaps this is because both games share a fast pace and a reliance on punishing openings in the opponent's defense with massive combos—but it might also be down to the big bundle of cash that Microsoft and developer Iron Galaxy have put forward for the prize pool at EVO 2015. This one should be interesting.

Why Watch?
Killer Instinct is actually a deceptively simple game despite seeming quite busy. It's fast, flashy, and built around the spectacle of huge combos that provide a load of entertainment. It also looks incredible, which helps. The sizable prize pool has attracted some big names from other games, including Justin Wong.

MORTAL KOMBAT X

Mortal Kombat was always a bit rubbish (oh come on, it was), but the series' latest installment has turned its fortunes around. Loads of really unique characters and interactive elements in each stage combine make it a quite strategic fighting game, played at a much slower speed than a lot of the other games at EVO. This is another title that has seen a big injection of prize money from its publishers: Warner Bros. have chucked a cool $50k into the pot.

Why Watch?
A more methodical approach and really nice new-gen graphics mean that Mortal Kombat X is easy to follow visually, but it may take a bit longer to truly understand due to the systems that supply the action. Although it may not be the most exciting game played at this year's EVO, its old-fashioned ultraviolence will more than make up for any relative sluggishness.

TEKKEN 7

Bit of a weird one, this. Although Tekken as a series has been a fixture of EVO for many years, its latest entry isn't actually out on consoles yet. The arcade version was rolled out in Japan in March, but even so, this isn't something you can fire up at home whenever you feel the need to practice. There's still quite a healthy Tekken scene with some great players, but a chunk of them may not even have had the chance to play this yet. So it's hard to be sure what to expect from this one.

Why Watch?
Basically, this is going to be the opportunity to get a good look at the new Tekken game, set for release early next year on PS4 and Xbox One. Expect Japanese players to dominate this tournament, as the arcade machine isn't even officially released outside of Japan yet.

Can't get enough manly blood sports? Direct your lustful eyes at FIGHTLAND.

GUILTY GEAR XRD AND PERSONA 4 ARENA ULTIMAX

Arc System Works have a reputation for creating extremely good and extremely good looking fighting games and both their entries into this year's EVO are no exception. Persona 4 Arena made its debut last year after coming out of nowhere and really impressing upon its release. This year sees the "Ultimax" version of the game being played, while Guilty Gear Xrd (pictured) is the long-awaited third proper entry in its parent series, which is considerably more complex than the Persona game, with depth that is quite intimidating for even seasoned fight fans. It might just be the best looking game of the entire weekend, too.

Why Watch?
Although Persona 4 Arena Ultimax is a great game, there's not much buzz behind the tournament and it lacks a lot of the glamor of the Street Fighter and Marvel competitions. Guilty Gear Xrd is a bit more popular, with the aforementioned Daigo Umehara being a former champion, but it is perhaps the most complicated game on EVO's roster. Sure, it is easy to see who actually wins and loses, but getting to that point requires a series of incredibly detailed, OTT animations and attacks that newcomers to fighting games will run a mile from. There's four different ways to block! Super Smash Bros, this is not.

EVO 2015 takes place in Las Vegas from July 17-19.

Follow Andi Hamilton on Twitter.

Robert C. Bates. Photo courtesy Tulsa County Sheriff's Office

On April 2, a 73-year-old reserve sheriff's deputy named Robert C. Bates killed 44-year-old Eric Harris by shooting him in the back at point-blank range. On Monday, Bates pleaded not guilty to a second-degree manslaughter charge, arguing that he accidentally mistook his gun for a Taser.

Harris's death is unique among the bevy of recent cases involving unarmed black men being killed by law enforcement officers because Bates isn't technically a cop, though he did reportedly serve in the Tulsa Police Department for about a year back in the 1960s. In fact, all the evidence suggests the senior citizen is an unqualified former insurance executive with a cowboy streak who's tight with the Tulsa County Sheriff—in part because he has a history of showering gifts and political donations on the sheriff's office.

An affair that already reeked of cronyism got even more ridiculous on Tuesday morning, when the judge trying the case refused to recuse himself. Back on April 22, Tulsa County District Judge James Caputo disclosed that he worked at the sheriff's for a total of six years, that his daughter is currently a civilian employee there, and that he's known Tulsa County Sheriff Glanz for 23 years.

"I've never shied away from a case yet, and I don't intend to now," Caputo announced in court Tuesday. Perhaps realizing how shady this all looks, Caputo put out an official statement as well.

This might not be such an egregious conflict of interest if it weren't for shocking revelations that have emerged in recent months about Tulsa law enforcement. For instance, as part of a 2009 internal report unearthed by theTulsa World, Sergeant Rob Lillard was assigned with finding out whether Bates was treated differently than other reserve officers. He concluded that Bates should never have been given a gun in the first place, and uncovered evidence suggesting he basically bought his way into action.

According to the report, one internal affairs employee was told by Undersheriff Tim Albin to prepare a certificate saying that Bates had completed driver training, even though he hadn't. Another was allegedly told by Albin that Bates only needed to complete 320 hours of field training rather than the normal 480. When asked if Bates was capable of functioning in the field, that employee told Lillard, "Nope."

The reserve coordinator for the sheriff's office also had no idea what was going on. He didn't even know Bates was in the program and tried to raise a fuss after he found out that Bates was driving a personal car equipped with police gear despite not having clearance to do so. Allegedly, he was told by Undersheriff Albin, "This is a shit sandwich, and you will just have to eat it but not acquire a taste for it."

Albin resigned after the 2009 report was unearthed in April. Activists have since called for Sheriff Glanz to do the same, and are also seeking a federal Department of Justice (DOJ) investigation into Harris's death. (VICE has reached out to the DOJ for comment and will update if they get back to us.)

On June 29, Harris's family sued Sheriff Glanz, Bates, and other officials. (Glanz has been re-elected six times since first winning the gig in 1988 but has promised not to seek another term.) The suit lays out Bates's 50-year relationship with the Sheriff, which according to various media reports included vacations to the Bahamas and a $2,500 political donation in 2012. Bates also donated expensive forensic equipment and six vehicles to the office between 2009 and 2011, according to the complaint.

What's more, the suit alleges that Bates used unnecessary force during an arrest two months before Harris died. According to the complaint, a man named Terry Byrum—himself a party to the lawsuit—was already on the ground and in handcuffs when Bates arrived on the scene. Bates then allegedly put his foot on the suspect's head and Tased him.

In a body-cam video from the day of shooting, Eric Harris can be seen running under an overcast sky when he's suddenly tackled. Even though someone yells out for a Taser, the unmistakable sound of a gunshot comes next.

"He shot me, he shot me! I'm losing my breath," Harris cries as blood seeps through his white T-shirt.

Bates, apparently realizing that he'd mistaken his gun for a Taser, yelps, "I shot him! I'm sorry." Another person off camera grunts, "Fuck your breath," before the footage cuts out.

If convicted of manslaughter, Bates faces up to four years in prison.

Follow Allie Conti on Twitter.

Scar in 'The Lion King.' All photos courtesy of Walt Disney Pictures

Quick, name as many gay male Disney characters as you can.

Don't think too hard, because it's a trick question: The answer depends on how you define "gay." If by gay, you mean a guy that is sexually and/or romantically attracted to other guys, then there have been zero gay guys in Disney animated films. (Honorable mention goes to Oaken from Frozen, whose wonderfully nonchalant coming-out scene was so downplayed that many people argue it wasn't real.)

But if by "gay" you mean mincing, sibilant, underhanded villains with a penchant for extravagant hats, there have been many to choose from, like King Candy (Wreck-It Ralph), Jafar (Aladdin), Governor Ratcliffe (Pocahontas), Hades (Hercules), Scar (The Lion King ), or Shere Khan (The Jungle Book). In the 90s, so many films in the "Disney Renaissance" featured gay villains, it felt like they'd hired Anita Bryant as a creative consultant.

It's easy to take potshots at Disney since it's the biggest target in the field. But the truth is, when it comes to mainstream animated kids' movies, the crypto-homo villain has been a stalwart for decades. In his new documentary Do I Sound Gay? author, filmmaker, and gay-sounding American David Thorpe includes a super-cut of some of the many homicidal sissies in animated films, Disney and otherwise. For those of you who haven't recently revisited these movies, it might be a little surprising to see so many forgotten villains—like Professor Ratigan, from The Great Mouse Detective—vamp and swish devilishly across the screen.

"Films need villains," Thorpe said in a phone interview, "and for a very long time, the effete, aristocratic, effeminate man was the villain."

Jafar in 'Aladdin'

Animated films didn't invent this trope, Thorpe makes clear in DISG? Rather, they drew it directly from Hollywood villains like Laura's Waldo Lydecker (played by Clifton Webb) and All About Eve's Addison DeWitt (George Sanders). Sanders, in fact, would go on to voice Shere Khan, perhaps the first such gay-ish villain in animated film. Interestingly enough, although Webb was most likely a closeted homosexual, Sanders was a fairly promiscuous straight guy who was at one point married to sex bomb Zsa Zsa Gabor.

So what makes both of their voices "sound gay?" This is one of the central questions in DISG? According to Ron Smyth, professor emeritus of psychology and linguistics at the University of Toronto, the answer isn't as straightforward as you might expect. In 1999, Smyth and two colleagues began studying the gay voice, by recording gay and straight men talking, and then having listeners guess the sexuality of the speakers. The biggest result? Gaydar hardly exists. Listeners guessed correctly in only 62 percent of cases, which just barely touched statistical significance. Gays were no more likely than straights to guess correctly, but all listeners were more likely to correctly identify straight men by their voices than gay men.

Watch: Gay Conversation Therapy

Other surprising findings included the fact that pitch "showed no correlation whatsoever with who is gay or who sounds gay." Rather, listeners were paying attention to learned linguistic features like sibilant S's, clear articulation, breathy voices, and upspeaking at the end of sentences, showing that the vocal features we associate with gayness are not inborn, but instead learned at a very early age, probably right as we acquire language. Smyth theorized that "boys who have these less stereotypically masculine personalities are attending more to female speech, which ends up being considered as sounding gay, even if they're not."

Rarely do we see of these kinds of "sissy boys" as being dangerous (though I assure you, we are), so how did we become such boogeymen in film? "The central subject of a lot of movies is the marriage plot," explained Thorpe. "Gay men stand outside that agenda—or at least they did until last week." Gay people were seen as a "threat to the moral order," and that symbolic danger was presented in countless films.

This is not to say there hasn't been progress over the last few decades, even in animated movies for kids. In all fairness, King Candy from Wreck-It Ralph is somewhat of an anachronism, the last sissy sociopath standing if you will. These days, the "gay" character is more often the stalwart best friend, the goofy comic relief, or part of an entourage of various stereotypes that play backup to the lead character's journey of self-discovery and heterosexual romance.

In fact right now, gay vague is in vogue. Thorpe points to King Julian, the light-in-the-loafers lemur from Madagascar, as being emblematic of this kind of character. These comic "pansies" go back all the way to early silent films, where they helped establish the leading man's masculinity with their ridiculous poofery. But "after the Hays code [a conservative set of industry standards for filmmakers] comes in in the 1930s," Thorpe said, Hollywood became "much more conservative." Now, it wasn't enough to gently mock non-normative sexuality or drug use, it had to be treated as evil and the characters themselves eventually punished, usually by death.

On Motherboard: 'Why the Gaming Industry Plans to Keep Gay Characters on The Sidelines'

Thankfully, almost a century later, we've finally made it back to being as progressive as the 1920s. Yet even as actual kids are coming out earlier and earlier, their on-screen counterparts, role models, heroes, and villains have remained resolutely closeted, existing only in suggestion, innuendo, and stereotype. (At least, this is the case in America. Anime has a long tradition of gay characters, and even couples, in programming intended for kids.)

Recently, however, this last barrier has begun to break, in large part thanks to one company: Laika Studios. In 2012's Paranorman, they featured a gay jock named Mitch, and in The Box Trolls, their narrator specifically mentions all kinds of families, including ones with two fathers or two mothers. In an interview in 2013, Laika CEO Travis Knight explained, "The kinds of films we make have to be consistent with our values... Sometimes that means putting yourselves out there a little bit."

Personally, I hope we see more gay villains—just ones who are gay gay. Gay heroes as well, and sidekicks and straight men and bit parts, too. I hope the pansy doesn't disappear just because he's a stereotype, but I hope he's allowed to be more than just a stereotype. And I hope gay men get to be more than just pansies. But it will take brave, conscience-driven filmmakers and studios to get us there.

Do I Sound Gay? is now screening at the IFC Center in New York and on cable-on-demand. It opens in select theaters nationwide on July 17.

Hugh Ryan is on Twitter.

Gameplay image from the new Star Wars: Battlefront. Screenshot via YouTube

Jade Raymond is arguably one of Canada's most influential video game developers. When she joined Ubisoft in 2004, she began as a producer on the first Assassin's Creed, a franchise that would become emblematic to the massive company, and make Raymond emblematic to Assassin's Creed. When Raymond left Ubisoft last October, many wondered why and where she'd end up. This week provided those answers: opening up Motive Studios, a new EA branch in Montreal, her hometown, to work on one of those Star Wars games.

"I love making games," wrote Raymond on Motive's site, in an introduction bubbling with vague hyped optimism. "I got my first job in the industry 20 years ago and am just as excited by the potential of games as I was on my very first day. There is no recipe for what a game should be and the only limit is the team's imagination. The endless possibilities, the talented people I get to work with and the passion that gamers add to make each game their own is what motivates me. Everyone in this industry has a motive, an idea they want to bring to life, a new idea they'd like to see in a game. It's what's so great about this industry. And it's what I want to get back to."

Previously, Jade Raymond was the managing director for Ubisoft Toronto, a branch employing hundreds, and the only major commercial studio of its size in the city. Montreal, however, has long been known as Canada's hub for game developers, with studios representing Warner Bros., BioWare, Eidos, and, of course, Ubisoft.

Jade Raymond. Photo via Wikimedia

Ubisoft Toronto opened up in 2009, and Raymond's involvement with that branch was a large selling point. To date, their only release is Splinter Cell: Blacklist, in 2013, which impressed critics but underperformed in sales. Ubisoft Toronto has otherwise provided backup for the latest instalments of Assassin's Creed and Far Cry, including the much-maligned Assassin's Creed Unity, which was released undercooked, with an unsatisfying storyline and a three-ring circus of glitches. While Raymond and Ubisoft Toronto didn't have too much influence over the most mocked game of the Assassin's Creed series, it was difficult not to place strings as Raymond left the company that made her famous.

When Raymond first departed Ubisoft, she was fairly cagey as to why. Some speculated she would follow the trend of other stars of the industry, tapping out from traditional blockbuster productions to tinker with smaller studio models, as Bioshock's Ken Levine, Mega Man's Keiji Inafune, and Gears of War's Cliff Bleszinski have done recently. A few months later, a more candid interview with Polygon suggested she was considering pretty much anything.

"I like the part of thinking what the big new franchise could be," Raymond told Polygon. "I also am pretty excited about all the new tech and platforms coming out. I think games, in some of the new spaces, whether it's purely online with free-to-play or VR or stuff like that, have other opportunities to innovate, which you might do on a smaller scale. It's a different kind of experience where you could also deliver something."

This new thing, as it turns out, may only be new for Raymond. Star Wars isn't exactly a fresh intellectual property, and Raymond had actually worked for EA briefly before, as a producer on The Sims Online. Details on this Star Wars game are scarce. What is exciting, on top of Raymond becoming involved and opening up a new studio to work on it, is the team-up with Amy Hennig, a vet of action games and instrumental to beloved series like Uncharted and Legacy of Kain.

When LucasArts was closed by Disney soon after their purchase of LucasFilm, many were nervous that Star Wars games would be permanently downscaled, since blockbuster video games scarcely make a desired return. Some of those anxieties were waived very recently, with EA showing off a new Star Wars Battlefront at E3, which promised something to be excited about. Furthermore, some speculate that the game Hennig, and now Raymond, are working on is related to Star Wars 1313, a massive action game that died with LucasArts, revealed posthumously to be a Boba Fett origin story. That game, similar to the wall-scaling, jumping-from-flaming vehicles epics from both Raymond and Hennig, seem within their wheelhouse.

So, enjoy, nerds. Montreal's chosen-child has returned, giving the city an additional mega-studio, and big Star Wars games live yet again. New Assassin's Creeds will go on regardless—kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall and we'll all get to climb a ton of walls.

Follow Zack Kotzer on Twitter.

Caroline Flint. Photo via policy exchange

This article originally appeared on VICE UK.

As Labour goes through the protracted identity crisis that is its leadership contest, it looks like big money is helping guide the party's direction. Corporate lobbyists for austerity are funding a deputy leadership campaign. With a row in the party this week about whether to back the government's benefit cuts, you have to wonder what influence those funders could have.

On her deputy leadership campaign website, Caroline Flints says Labour must be, "A grassroots movement—not a Westminster elite." Flint is a serious contender to be deputy leader of the Labour Party. Just to prove how "grassroots" and definitely-not-part-of-a-closed-elite she is, her campaign is being partly staffed by corporate lobbyists called Sovereign Strategy. Their clients include a US company that judges whether or not disabled people should get any benefits or be thrown to compete an unforgiving jobs market. Disability campaigners told VICE that the funding is an "insult."

According to Flint's entry on the Register of MP's Interests, Sovereign is helping run her campaign by donating a "seconded member of staff to work on deputy leadership campaign, value £8,000 [$12,500]."

Sovereign is a lobbying company offering "a bespoke program of political engagement for each client." A former intern said this includes "facilitating" communication between corporate clients and "strategic partners in the British and European Parliament." In other words, rich companies pay them to nudge politicians in business-friendly directions.

As it tries to sell its services, Sovereign makes a big deal about its Labour links. It tells clients its Chairman and Founder, Alan Donnelly "served as a Labour Member of the European Parliament for 11 years" and includes a statement from Tony Blair calling Donnelly an "outstanding member of Labour's team."

Sovereign is also linked to the business of austerity. One of its bigger clients is called Maximus. Maximus is a US corporation that runs government welfare schemes. Its biggest UK contract is running "Work Capability Assessments" on disabled people applying for benefits. Maximus will get £595 million [$930 million] over three years testing disabled people. Anyone judged "fit for work" by Maximus staff will not get benefits.

The privatized assessments are intensely controversial. Under the previous contractor, French multinational Atos, delays and misjudgments on the tests caused anguish and anger among disabled people. Horror stories were common: Terminal cancer patients were told to get their lazy asses off their deathbeds and find a job, only to kick the bucket shortly afterwards. People with mental health problems are made anxious by the uncertainty over their benefits.

Labour introduced the privatized Work Capability Assessment in 2007, but has since tried to distance itself from the policy. When Cameron's government gave Maximus the contract for the tests last October, Labour's spokeswoman Kate Green said the US firm could not fix the assessments with "600,000 people stuck in a huge backlog while many thousands more are being let down by a failing service which is costing taxpayers millions of pounds." Funny, then, that the party's deputy leadership race is being funded by lobbyists who work for Maximus.

Over on Munchies: Sex + Food: Sploshing

It's handy that Flint has been so "tough talking" on benefits in her deputy leadership campaign. She told the Sun that Labour should give people "choosing" to "live off benefits" a "kick up the backside."

In a Deputy Leadership Hustings Flint said "I want a Britain where hard work pays, responsibility is rewarded, everyone plays by the same rules, and shares in the rewards." In fact, Maximus itself hasn't always played by the rules. Soon after its appointment to the disability benefits tests, campaigners highlighted concerning aspects of the company's history. For example, in 2007 Maximus had to pay a $30.5 million fine in the US to settle charges that it cheated a contract to run America's "Medicaid" program for sick children.

Related: Watch our film about young people campaigning for the Labour Party.

When they won their Work Capability Assessment contract, campaigners led by Disabled People Against Cuts (DPAC) organized a rebranding of Maximus as "Maximarse." DPAC activists were surprised to see Maximus executives had themselves bought the domain name www.maximarse.com in an apparent bid to prevent campaigners setting up a piss-taking website.

Campaigners for Disabled People Against the Cuts (DPAC)—a genuine grassroots movement that relies on donations—that have led fierce battles against benefit cuts and bullying were unimpressed. A spokesperson for DPAC told me, "The fact that Flint is working with the same lobby group as Maximus is an insult to disabled people. It speaks volumes on any supposed distinctions between left and right when it comes to disability issues."

A spokesman for the Caroline4Deputy campaign said, "We are proud to have received donations from many Labour party members and business people supporting Caroline Flint's campaign to be Labour's Deputy Leader. All donations are fully and openly declared and are permissible under the Electoral Commission's rules. Sovereign Strategy has provided one in-kind donation of a member of staff to the campaign on secondment. This member of staff is an active Labour Party member and there is no conflict of interest of any kind."

No other candidates for Leader or Deputy Leader have declared their funding yet, apart from Tom Watson, who got £4,000 [$6,250] from JK Rowling. But if Flint's support from corporate lobbyists is anything to go by, rich companies, including ones that work for people who help carry out austerity measures, will have their say in who runs the "People's Party."

Follow Solomon Hughes on Twitter.

Chantelle Bushie, the year before she went missing. Photo courtesy Vivian Bushie

Vivian Bushie watches calmly as eight-year-old Fahtima bounces between her zebra-printed bedroom and the big armchair in the living room of the family's small apartment in Grande Prairie, Alberta. Fahtima can't find the rainbow loom toy she needs to make charms for a bracelet. Despite the girl's constant barrage of questions, Vivian Bushie remains patient. After all, though she is not Fahtima's birth mother, she is the only mother Fahtima has ever known.

Check your dresser. Not there. Check the rainbow cupboards. Not there. Check where you keep the blank paper and the colouring sheets. Oh-kay. Off her child goes.

Sometimes Vivian looks at Fahtima and sees Chantelle, Vivian's eldest daughter and Fahtima's mother. When Fahtima is speaking in earnest, she'll tilt her head to the side dramatically as if to convey the importance of what she's about to tell you. In these moments, she's sassy in a way that Chantelle was too.

Fahtima knows that Vivian didn't give birth to her. She knows who Chantelle is, and she knows that Chantelle has been missing since she was only a few months old. But that's about the extent of what Fahtima knows about her birth mother.

"Whenever she asks questions I'll try to answer them," Vivian says. She finds the questions about what Chantelle is like easier to field than the ones about where Chantelle is and what happened to her. Mostly, though, she focuses on making sure her precocious little girl grows up happy, healthy, and safe, and knowing she's loved very, very much.

Chantelle Alice Rose Bushie was born on April 2, 1991 in Grande Prairie, Alberta, just north of Edmonton. She's from the Dene Tha' First Nation to the north, her childhood spent in a number of northern Alberta places, including Meander River, one of three Dene Tha' communities.

Grande Prairie, AB. Photo by Adam Dietrich

Chantelle was the second of four kids born to Vivian, a single mother. She gave her first child up for adoption, then came Chantelle. In quick succession, she was followed by her brother and sister.

Chantelle's was not an easy childhood, says Vivian. Chantelle was sexually abused as a teenager—an experience that is deplorably common among Aboriginal women and girls, particularly among those who, like Chantelle, live in northern Canada. Research compiled by the Canadian Department of Justice indicates that 25 to 50 percent of Aboriginal women suffer sexual abuse during their childhood. For non-Aboriginal women, the range is 20 to 25 percent.

When Chantelle was 11, her younger sister Summer died in an accident. Summer, Vivian's youngest, was on a wagon ride at a community event. Summer fell from the wagon and under its wheel. Vivian wasn't there, but Chantelle and her brother were. They watched it happen.

A year later, Vivian picked up her family and moved south for good to Grande Prairie, a growing but resource-dependent city of nearly 50,000 people. She enrolled in the local college in the Teacher Education North program. The degree would have enabled her to serve as an Indigenous teacher in rural, northern schools that work primarily with Indigenous students. But after one year, she dropped out.

"It was stressful with two of my kids with me," Vivian says. She was studying and working and raising a family, and in the summer months, her educational funding was cut off.

She felt exhausted, but she didn't share her struggles with the kids. "I was just trying to provide for them," she says. She didn't want them to worry about the family making rent.

View from the road in Grande Prairie. Photo by Adam Dietrich

It was there, in Grande Prairie, that Vivian's relationship with Chantelle fell apart. It started with the usual pre-teen angst. By the time Chantelle was 14, she was cutting class. She got caught up with a bad crowd, Vivian says, and skipping quickly escalated to disappearing—sometimes for a day or two, sometimes for longer.

"I don't know how many times I reported her missing," Vivian says, "and the police would catch her, find her, and then they would drive her back home."

There's a limit to what the police can do when they get calls from parents like Vivian. According to RCMP inspector Gibson Glavin, if a kid gets caught up in the wrong crowd, officers will "try [to] locate this person," and they'll try to "assess what their needs are." The officer can provide advice—and can, if the person is under 18, as Chantelle was, decide whether to involve social services or another "supporting agency."

Chantelle wasn't a criminal. On the street, she sometimes went by the alias Kim Star, and she was known to police as someone who hung around with sex workers and drug dealers—but she herself was neither. As Vivian recalls, whenever police officers picked up Chantelle and brought her home, she would inevitably take off again. According to the RCMP, by the time Chantelle vanished, she was "known to be homeless" and "known to lead a high-risk lifestyle." But to Vivian, she was just missing.

"I stopped asking for the system's help," Vivian said. It didn't seem like there was anyone in the city that could help her to help Chantelle.

"It's hard."

There was a brief period of support, Vivian says, when Chantelle was pregnant at the age of 15. And when baby Fahtima was just two weeks old, in April 2007, Vivian remembers a support worker from Child Protective Services helping Vivian file for custody. But by Christmas, Chantelle was gone: only 16 years old, 5'4" and 120 pounds, with the initials "VT" tattooed on her left arm. Her parent's initials.

Chantelle. Photo courtesy Vivian Bushie

At the time, Chantelle's disappearance didn't seem unusual. Not until September 2009—almost two years later with no contact—when Vivian was unable to verify that her eldest child was in Vancouver, did she report Chantelle as a missing person.

Vivian left the search to the RCMP. She found it easier to cope by imagining that Chantelle wasn't missing, that she was safe and happy.

In 2008, the year after Chantelle disappeared and the year before she was reported missing, Statistics Canada ranked Grande Prairie 26th in Canada for overall crime based on police-reported statistics for communities with a population of over 10,000. That number has risen steadily over the years, climbing to 11th for overall crime in 2013, the most recent year for which data is available.

An RCMP officer blamed the latest ranking on the city's young demographics and its drug trade. But the year of Chantelle's disappearance, the Alberta Crime Reduction and Safe Communities Task Force released a report that pinpointed resource-based places like Grande Prairie as the areas where homelessness and affordable housing were most severely impacting residents' safety and security.

HIV North is a non-profit organization that works with people with HIV/AIDS and with people at risk, like Chantelle. At its Grande Prairie chapter, there's a women's drop-in that a female RCMP officer visits, usually twice a week. The point is to build relationships, says Sue Belcourt, the organization's executive director—but many of the agency's clients "don't want that interaction" and when they need help "are afraid to call the RCMP."

Accordingly, support for the people who are uncomfortable interacting with the RCMP is often left entirely to organizations like HIV North. The threshold for accessing the organization's harm-reduction program is low, but as team lead Jared Gossen acknowledges, "If someone is recently homeless or on the street, it's not super likely that we are going to see them for the first six months, eight months, maybe even a year."

By time HIV North starts to work with teenagers, Gossen says, those teenagers are often already "significantly disengaged" from their parents and often more "comfortable in their own skin."

"There seems to be a large gap in services," says Melissa Byers, an outreach worker with HIV North, and she says violence seems to be getting worse. The people HIV North helps speak frequently of a rise in drugs, guns and gangs.

"The potential for violence that is there for youth is quite significant right now," Belcourt says. Many of the people who are living on the street are indigenous youth.

The question is how to fill the gaps; how to minimize the risk of violence. "I don't think more police are necessarily the answer," Belcourt says. "I think our community needs to take its head out of the sand and realize it's got a problem and start talking about the problems."

Sometimes, Gossen says—even when the necessary services exist—it's a challenge to convince teenagers like Chantelle that they need help. They're usually "unaware of the downward cycle whether it's economic or their drug use," he says. Parties can help them "cope with the rougher parts of getting by, which I think makes them extremely vulnerable to people who would take advantage."

Photo of Chantelle courtesy Vivian Bushie

So, if vulnerable people haven't figured out how to access the support that does exist, and they don't feel comfortable calling the police, where do they go? Who helps them?

Vivian confronted this question once before, with Chantelle. Now she's facing it again, with her son.

Chantelle's brother struggles with alcoholism and drugs, Vivian says. She regards it as a coping mechanism for the loss of his younger sister and the disappearance of his older sister. This type of alcoholism has been well documented, most recently by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in the summary of its final report on Canada's residential school system.

According to the summary report, released in early June, "First Nations people were six times more likely than the general population to suffer alcohol-related deaths."

Chantelle's brother has been in and out of jail. Alcoholism, jail time, and childhood abuse are hardly uncommon among Canada's indigenous populations. But Vivian doesn't know how to help.

Howard Sapers has been the Correctional Investigator for Canada for more than a decade. He wrote his first annual report in 2003-04. Ten years later, in hisannual report for 2013-14, he wrote of the problems facing aboriginal offenders: "to a great extent, these issues remain with us a decade removed from my initial observations."

Aboriginal people are overrepresented in Canada's penal system. From 2005 to when the latest available annual report was published, the percentage of Canadians under federal sentence increased 17.5 percent. During the same interval, the percentage of aboriginal inmates increased 47.4 percent. Today, Aboriginal people comprise only four percent of the total population, but represent more than 20 percent of incarcerated Canadians.

Sapers' report finds that aboriginal offenders, relative to non-aboriginal offenders, are, on average, all of the following: less educated; more likely to be young; more likely to have a history of substance abuse, mental health, and/or addiction; more likely to be kept in a higher-security facility; and less likely to be released at the two-thirds point of their sentences.

"There is both engagement in and concern about how to best address the disproportionate rates of crime, victimization and incarceration among Canada's aboriginal peoples," Sapers wrote. He also expressed concern with "the lack of responsiveness to my reports."

When Vivian thinks about what someone could do right now to help her, she doesn't think of her missing daughter; she thinks of her son. "He needs help," she says. After a pause, she says again: "my son needs help."

Vivian doesn't let anyone who's been drinking come around Fahtima, not even her son. He knows that. She keeps her eyes fixed on the growing girl: "I make sure she's with me all the time." She rarely goes back to Meander River—usually just for funerals—and she goes to church for support, relying on her pastor and his wife.

According to Vivian, there should be more support for high-risk teens and for their parents. She'd like to attend a group — maybe even help to create one — but she works a relentless schedule and doesn't think she'd be able to find the time. She was offered counselling in Meander River, but she was never able to get to it.

Glavin says Chantelle's case is currently an active investigation and that the investigator in charge meets regularly with a representative from the Canadian Centre for Child Protection to discuss Chantelle and other files.

On June 19, the RCMP released an update focused on the epidemic of missing and murdered aboriginal women.

"The RCMP remains committed to solving these cases, and bringing closure and justice to the families who have also been victimized," it says. It highlighted a national missing persons strategy initiated last fall that seeks to establish "mandatory communication schedules with families."

The original review found that nearly 1,200 aboriginal women went missing or were murdered between 1980 and 2012. The update revealed that 11 more women had been reported missing in 2013 and 2014, while 32 more were murdered.

Vivian is slowly building up a network of support, reaching out over social media to other Indigenous mothers who have also lost their daughters. She's learning that it is not only her daughter who is missing; not only her son who is fighting alcoholism while struggling to remain outside the penal system.

Last fall, Vivian and Fahtima participated in the Sisters in Spirit walk. Vivian later read a friend's post about the more than 1,200 Indigenous women who have gone missing or been murdered since 1980—Chantelle included—and she wonders why the federal government has yet to announce a national inquiry.

"I still pray that she'll somehow come home or that I'll know she's okay," Vivian says of her daughter. "I hear so much of women missing, especially when they say that they found human remains. It just scares me."

Anyone who has seen Chantelle is asked to contact Grande Prairie RCMP at 780-830-5701 or Crime Stoppers at 1-800-222-8477 or to email the National Centre for Missing Persons and Unidentified Remains at canadasmissing-disparuscanada@rcmp-grc.gc.ca

Follow Jane Gerster on Twitter.

Look what Justin Trudeau does to young people! The Canadian Press/Peter Power

Timing, as all our exes would say, is everything. And so it is for the federal government's decision to spend $1.5 million to run its previously-used anti-drugs ads on TV and online this summer.

Health Canada began re-running the ads—which have long been criticized as a political shot against Liberal Leader Justin Trudeau—earlier this week. The ads will stop airing in August, weeks before a federal election is expected to be called.

One such ad is seemingly aimed at parents, with an ominous sounding narrator saying weed is much stronger than it was 30 years ago and that "smoking marijuana can seriously harm a teen's developing brain." Admittedly, the CGI visuals are pretty good by government standards, though.

"Marijuana is the most widely used illegal drug among Canadian youth, who are especially vulnerable to the health effects of marijuana use. Smoking marijuana damages teens' developing brains and is harmful to a person's overall health," Health Minister Rona Ambrose said in a statement about the ad campaign's relaunch. It might just be timing, but it seems to be worth noting that the last four statements on Health Canada's news page are all about drug abuse, which is hardly the only health issue facing our country.

No one is really arguing that weed is good for teens (stay in school, kids!) but the original ad campaign—coinciding closely with Tory ads against Trudeau's legalization plan—raised eyebrows among Canada's medical community, while three separate organizations refused to endorse Health Canada's ads.

"The educational campaign has now become a political football on Canada's marijuana policy and for this reason the CFPC, CMA and Royal College will not be participating," the College of Family Physicians of Canada, Canadian Medical Association and Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Canada, said last year in a joint statement.

"We did not, and do not, support or endorse any political messaging or political advertising on this issue."

Liberal MP Hedy Fry, a doctor by training and the party's health critic, charged that the ads are "political" and that the Conservative government "doesn't care about using taxpayers' dollars for...misguided ads."

"They are scare-mongering and fear-mongering ads," she told VICE. "It's about ideology. We should be very concerned they continue to spend taxpayers' dollars during the lead-up to what is essentially a federal election."

Fry argued that if the Conservatives were serious about the risks of marijuana they would regulate it like alcohol and cigarettes and keep it out of the hands of children. Coincidentally, this is what the Liberals want to do if they are elected.

In an email to VICE, Minister Ambrose's office denied the ads are political.

"Educating youth and parents on negative effects of smoking marijuana is not about politics. In fact, governments have been raising awareness of the health risks of smoking and drugs for many years. It is the responsible thing to do for a government," spokesperson Michael Bolkenius said.

The Conservatives' various ads against Trudeau, some which suggested the Liberal leader wanted to make pot easier to access for kids, were greeted with a bit of an eye-roll. Even the brandy-sippers at the National Post called the ad campaign "an embarrassment."

The previous 12-week anti-drug campaign by the federal government, which ended in early 2015, cost taxpayers $7 million. That was more than Health Canada spent in the entire 2013-2014 fiscal year advertising its programs or telling Canadians to do healthy things like immunize your kids or whatnot.

The ads come not long after an exclusive poll provided to VICE show that the legalization of pot—the one policy pledge everyone actually remembers from Trudeau—is a vote winner for the Liberals, at least among the hard-to-give-a-shit youth demographic.

Possession charges have risen 40 percent since the Conservatives took office in 2006. The next federal election is set for October.

With files from Justin Ling.

Follow Josh Visser on Twitter.

Go check out Julian Glander's Twitter, Instagram, and blog.

Barack Obama signs legislation. Photo via Wikipedia

Early Tuesday morning, news emerged that the US, along with five other countries, has finally brokered a long-awaited nuclear deal with Iran. Already, commentators are hailing this agreement as the biggest diplomatic win of President Barack Obama's presidency, and given Iran's significance in pretty much every Middle Eastern kerfuffle in which the US is currently mired, that assessment doesn't seem too far off. Obama himself wasted no time in claiming that the deal would basically put an end to nuclear proliferation in the region, guaranteeing that Iran won't develop a nuclear bomb for at least another decade.

For most casual observers, keeping up with the complexities of the deal—which has been in the works for 20 months—has been a real pain. Iran's nuclear program has been an issue since the 1970s, even before the rise of the Islamic Republic of Iran in 1979, and the current nuclear program has been a subject of on-and-off negotiations for about a dozen years. The deal announced today has been the subject of protracted horse-wrangling, culminating in an 18-day slugfest of talks in Vienna, where leaders of the seven countries involved hashed out minute details and technicalities of nuclear development and sanctions. The end result is a 159-page document that few have had time to parse. So for people out there who'd like to know what the fuss is about, but don't feel like wading through a mountain of documents and think pieces, I've put together a little primer.

What Everyone Was So Worried About in the First Place:

Western officials suspected have long suspected that the Islamic Republic of Iran has been trying to develop a nuke, and Iran's long, grueling conflict with Saddam Hussein's Iraq in the 1980s led many to assume leaders in Tehran would seek an ace-in-the-hole weapon.

But the current situation really began in 2002, when evidence of the state's nuclear program was revealed to the public. Although by 2003 Iran's Supreme Leader, Ali Khamenei, had officially denied that the country's nuclear research was aimed at weaponization, many suspected that the scale of Iran's uranium enrichment exceeded the amount needed for nuclear power generation.

This news triggered a backlash against Iran from the international community—for instance, a series of UN resolutions put the kibosh on most arms exports and imports to the country, banned trafficking nuclear technology to Iran, and froze the assets of key businesses and individuals affiliated with the nuclear program. Individual nations also leveled sanctions at Iran, and America led the way, eventually effectively closing all trade with Iran save for humanitarian aid and a few sectors like agricultural or medical technology.

Yet for all this pressure, as of 2013 American officials admitted that they hadn't seen much give from Tehran on its nuclear ambitions. A spokesperson for the US Treasury Department argued that year that Iran's election of the relatively moderate ex-nuclear negotiator Hassan Rouhani as president was a result of America's economic squeeze. Still, hope that sanctions would push Iran to abandon its nuclear plans was dimming —as were prospects for any meaningful negotiations .

So What Changed?

Not long after Rouhani's election, negotiations got a huge shot in the arm when a new round of talks resulted in a Joint Action Plan in November 2013, setting up a pattern of good-faith nuclear program reductions in Iran in exchange for sanctions relief from the West. By the start of 2014, Iran had agreed to lower its uranium enrichment, begin diluting its stockpiles, and open up to letting in UN nuclear watchdogs in exchange for billions in sanctions relief and unfrozen assets.

Watch: Inside Iranian Cinema

What America Wanted Out of a Deal

Ideally, the US would have liked to prevent Iran from ever developing a nuclear bomb. Barring that, US leaders wanted to break Iran's ability to weaponize uranium in the immediate future, giving Western nations time and leverage to move further along the anti-proliferation road.

What Iran Wanted

Pretty much everyone in Iran recognizes that something has to be done to end the sanctions. Between 2011 and 2013, the state's oil exports fell from 2.2 million to 700,000 barrels per day , leading to billions of dollars in economic losses per month. A lack of access to international markets and banking have massively inflated the currency, increasing the cost of basic goods .

So naturally, Iran's key concern has been ensuring the lifting of all sanctions. Some officials have voiced a hope that an agreement could be fully implemented by December, leading to a windfall of up to $200 billion in income for the nation's energy sector alone over the next six years. Yet while Iranians are gung-ho to see their economy open to the world, they're also still eager to see some kind of recognition of the legitimacy of their country's nuclear energy program—to maintain some status as a nation with respectable aims and its own agency even if it makes concessions.

What Other Countries Wanted

While America and Iran were the key players in these recent negotiations, it's important not to forget that the rest of the world had their own goals as well. And for many states, the prospect of reducing global oil prices by gaining access to Iranian crude and opening up a massive new market for investment and exports made a deal extremely alluring. Former major Iranian trading partners like the UK and Germany had openly expressed the idea that sanctions might unravel anyway if negotiations weren't successful.

Why Everyone Was Still Biting Their Nails Until This Morning

By early April, negotiations with Iran yielded a historic initial framework for curbing Iran's nuclear program. Iran provisionally agreed to limit its nuclear program and open itself up to greater UN monitoring. In turn, the Obama administration started talking openly about how and how soon it could lift sanctions on Iran. Just before the last round of talks began, Secretary of State John Kerry seemed open to meeting Iran halfway and easing some restrictions on the nation almost as soon as the deal was a go, rather than waiting for full evidence of implementation from nuclear watchdogs.

Yet as the last round of talks started in Vienna on June 26, many still worried about details like the exact regime of monitoring and the speed and sequencing of sanctions relief hadn't been hammered out. Especially when the issue of arms embargoes, conspicuously muted in previous discussions, reportedly started to resurface as a major bone of contention in negotiations, some prepared for bad news.

Finally, We Got a Deal

But this morning, the world finally saw a deal that both American and Iranian negotiators consented to.

Iran will cap its enrichment and stockpiling for 15 years, reduce its centrifuges over the next decade, ship spent fuel out of the country, and repurpose the Arak reactor, putting a hold on new reactors for 15 years. Iran also agreed to grant unprecedented access to UN inspectors—basically in perpetuity, but with heightened scrutiny on elements of its nuclear operations for 25 years. It will also limit nuclear research for eight years and hold off on any nuclear weapons–related research indefinitely.

In return, the other negotiating powers agreed to start scaling back sanctions as this plan was implemented. America even managed to strike a deal on arms, restricting conventional weapons shipments for five years and ballistic missiles for eight years at least. It's not as rapid a shift as Iran might have hoped for, nor as complete a dismantling of Iranian nuclear capabilities as Americans might have wished. But for both sides, it's possibly the most rational middle ground we could have hoped for.

On VICE News: Critics Say Nuclear Deal Will 'Fuel Iran's Terrorism'

How Folks Around the World Are Reacting

As you might imagine, reactions to the deal have been mixed. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has slammed the deal as a historic blunder that will enable Iran to do even more to fund proxy conflicts in the region and pursue its ultimate sinister ambitions unabated. Most Republicans in America seem to share his broad sentiments. House Speaker John Boehner, for one, has started to spin the agreement as an endorsement of state-sponsored terrorism, a sign of American weakness, and a failure to achieve our true goal of a surefire end to any future Iranian bomb. (Congress will have 60 days to approve or reject the deal, or do nothing, but Obama will be able to veto a rejection.) 2016 presidential GOP hopefuls have already taken up Boehner's cry as a major new talking point, and will continue to badmouth the deal for months to come.

Why This Is Still a Pretty Damn Important Development

Removing a source of conflict between Iran and the West and opening up travel and trade will likely radically alter dialogue between all the nations involved. That's especially true given that, once sanctions unravel, it'll be very hard to ratchet them back up , meaning that this opening is a somewhat permanent development. So long as the deal can reach the first stage of implementation, we're looking at a major rewriting of the calculus of the global energy market, Middle Eastern affairs, and Iranian-Western diplomacy. Whoever you think emerged as the "winner" of these negotiations, it's inarguable that we just saw history being made.

Follow Mark Hay on Twitter.

Corey and his model flatmates in Greenpoint, Brooklyn

It wasn't long after I got into fashion photography when I realized that I was more interested in the people wearing the clothes than the clothes themselves. So I soon began taking pictures of people who weren't wearing any clothes.

In 2008, I shot a centerfold for the French edition of Playboy.That was my first encounter with a girl named Raquel Nave. Raquel was so unusual—so free and uninhibited. She was unlike any model I had worked with up until that point. As soon as Raquel began to undress, I felt incredibly liberated from fashion. We became good friends and eventually she invited me to her flat. Everything at her place—every postcard on the wall, every piece of art—was a reflection of her. That's how I got the idea to start shooting models in their flats.

To date, I've photographed over 70 models in their homes. Every shoot has been an adventure in its own way. I love the feeling of showing up at someone's place and having no idea what to expect. Almost everyone has opened up and told me their story. Maybe it's that closeness and intimacy that you get from being inside someone's bedroom or maybe there's just been some chemistry between me and a bunch or ridiculously good-looking people. Whatever it is, I feel extremely privileged to have been able to hear about their dreams, struggles, fears, and aspirations. Here are some of their stories.

RAQUEL

Raquel and her daughter in Bushwick, Brooklyn.

A photographer approached me at a Starbucks when I was 17 years old. Moving into a model flat was so weird—there were so many girls living one on top of the other. There were eight of us shoved into a two-bedroom apartment.

I experienced it all: weird eating habits and eating disorders, creepy promoters calling the apartment, endless Skype conversations with boyfriends from back home and bitchy Brazilians who didn't let you use their toilet paper. Some would also put bleach into other people's shampoo bottles to fuck with them and keep them from getting jobs.

CHARLIE

Charlie in his parents' backyard, in Brooklyn

The best thing about being a model is the amount of money you get for doing jack shit—that and meeting tons of hot girls. But I don't see myself as some kiddie version of Derek Zoolander, who lives in a bunk-bed bedroom with a bunch of vain pretty boys.

Most models feed off attention, which means it can get competitive sometimes. I was sabotaged once. The night before I met with a potential new agency, my roommate put hot pepper in my pillowcase. My face was swollen as a motherfucker and I didn't get signed.

I watch my weight but that's because of my passion for boxing, not modeling. Models are pretty funny about staying thin. It's no joke. If you're fat, you simply don't get booked. Some models use drugs like cocaine to keep their weight in check. I do drugs from time to time, but only because I like to party.

GIEDRE

Giedre in her apartment. Wall Street, Manhattan.

I got picked up by a small agency in my hometown of Raseiniai in Lithuania. I moved away from home when I was really young and that forced me to learn how to take care of myself really quickly. I shared an apartment with some models and it was a blast. I never made so many friends, and such pretty ones too.

The fashion industry is very competitive, but then again what industry isn't? The clients decide what girl or what look is right for their brand that season. If you don't get picked, it's not personal—it's business. 
A big part of modeling is simply waiting: Waiting for flights and taxis, waiting to be seen at castings, waiting at fashion shows to get your hair and make-up done or for the show to start. You have to learn how to entertain yourself and be patient.

RAIN

Rain in Williamsburg, Brooklyn

I lost a bet during a football game that resulted in me going to an audition. I was mistakenly booked as a man and the rest is history. No one else looks like me so there is little competition.

If I'm modeling as a female, I'm asked to maintain a size 2 or 4 to be able to fit into the clothing. If I'm hired as a male, I'm asked to be a size 4 to 6. Fluctuating body weight for shoots can be challenging, but I do it carefully and healthily under the guidance of a private nutritionist. I love my body and I just tell people to fuck off if they ask me to eat unhealthily to obtain an image. They have Photoshop. You either want me or you don't.

MARCELLE

Marcelle in her flat in Bushwick, Brooklyn

I moved to New York from Fargo in North Dakota so that I could study. Growing up I didn't know what plus-size modelling was. I floated between a US size 10 and 12, always trying to get skinnier.

The first time a scout approached me, I was in a Sephora. I wasn't ready for it. I was 19 and unable to even consider the idea of modeling until I had grown to love myself. The plus-size industry is something most people don't understand and that can be hard. However, knowing I could be inspiring a young girl in Ohio to love her body is worth everything.

I'm shocked at how easy it has been to make a career out of being myself. If my job required me to change my body drastically I wouldn't do it. I have other qualities and I'm smart.

PRISCILLA

Priscilla at a friend's house in Paris

This picture was taken years ago. I really wanted to do Hadley's "model at home" shoot but back then I didn't have a flat. I'd only been a model for a few months so I was living with my parents at the time. I wasn't getting a lot of work either because back then, the market for black girls was very limited in Paris. So I asked a friend of mine to lend me his for the afternoon.

This picture doesn't show my real personality—it's more of a persona influenced by the magazines I was reading and the things I was seeing at the time. I used to dress to please men. Now I only dress for myself.

My look in this photo is strange. Now my hair and eyebrows are dyed white and with this kind of style I can't work for agencies anymore. But it fits me well—I finally found myself and I don't look like anyone else. Ironically, I've had more job offers since I stopped being represented by an agency.

Interested in modeling? Watch our documentary about Cambodia Fashion Week

LEANDER

Leander in Berlin

I was doing breakdance shows on the street in Alexanderplatz in Berlin when a scout approached me. The worst thing about modeling is the fashion week castings. I've known models that wait in line for four hours to make 100 euros ($110).

There's a lot more to my life than modeling though. I founded the record label Dezi-Belle. I study business and politics and I'm still active in the breakdance scene.

NICOLA

Nicola. Upper West Side, Manhattan

When I first got into modeling at the age of 13, I would do random jobs that usually involved a skateboard or a surfboard. I grew up in New York City so I already had friends there, when I entered the fashion world. I'd show up to jobs and leave right after to go back to my normal day. That's what saved me from a lot of the negativity that models coming to New York are subjected to.

For me, each day is all about music until a job comes along. My band is called Caverns. I think having a passion outside of modeling is essential for models who want to preserve a healthy ego. If you have something you truly love to keep you going, you're less vulnerable to harsh judgments. I've also developed a sort of weird character for myself so I definitely have a niche in the industry.

EVAN

Evan in Bushwick, Brooklyn

I started modelling when I was 16 years old. I grew up in a very small town on an island off the coast of Maine and I knew nothing about the crazy world of fashion. My mom's boyfriend at the time took a few pictures of me and within a week I was signed by NEXT Miami. Soon after, I packed my bags for NYC and signed with Re:Quest.

You can't make it as a model without a bit of luck, good timing, and serious commitment. Overall, it's a pretty incredible experience for a young adult to have.

COREY

Corey in Greenpoint, Brooklyn

I had the time of my life, when I lived in the Ford model apartment—there was never a dull moment. All these guys from different countries and all walks of life had come to live together, with one common goal. Even though we barely knew each other we got along great and there were never any big fights.

More from VICE:

The Extraordinary Photos of a Woman Who Returned to Modelling After Losing Her Jaw to Cancer

Model by Day, Chef by Night

Trans Model Carmen Carrera Is Transforming Fashion

All photos by the author.

This article originally appeared on VICE UK.

The Italian girl with the pixie haircut stares at me with wide, serious eyes. "I'm into the usual stuff—latex, whipping. But you know what really turns me on?"

"What?" I ask.

"Nazi uniforms."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. I have a collection."

"Historically accurate?"

She looks at me pityingly.

"They don't have to be perfect. As long as there's a swastika I get a wide-on. I'm not some kind of weirdo, you know."

We are standing on the upper deck of a river cruiser on the Thames. It is currently heading towards Canary Wharf at a good clip. Around us are a group of men and women, mainly middle-aged, in varying states of undress. As this is London's premier, annual, on-water fetish party, most of them have squeezed their now less-than-pneumatic bodies into latex, rubber, or PVC.

Despite the Nazi fetish of the Italian guest, the party is encouragingly inclusive and diverse. From where I'm standing, I can see a jacked up black guy in a white leather skirt, an old white fella in a school uniform—gray shorts, tie, and prefect badge—and a Middle Eastern dude in a green rubber corset licking the (possibly fake) Louboutins of his giggling lover. Every so often, when another boat passes, the fetish-clad denizens clap and wave and cheer as bemused tourists and out-of-towners stand and stare.

"The Boat," as the event is called, happens every June. It's been going for the last 22 years, longer than Torture Garden or any of the capital's other kink parties. Setting sail from London Bridge Pier, this vessel of flagellation enthusiasts travels up and down the river until 2AM, going as far as Greenwich in the east and Putney in the west. According to its website, the shindig is run by "The Firm," a "shadowy politico-criminal organization."

Intimidating as this sounds, when I board I am welcomed by organizer Noah, a grinning chap in leather, and Jacko, another official, who wears a Dickensian frock coat and looks more like a town crier with a penchant for six-pint ploughman's lunches than an urban outlaw.

On board, a bloke named Phil with wispy gray hair and a maid's outfit offers me a tray of cold meatballs in curdled tomato sauce.

"I'm a service sub," he explains when I enquire about his get-up.

"You get off on serving people lukewarm foodstuffs?" I ask.

"I like to make people happy," he says. "If they feel good then I feel good too."

Is it a sexual thing?

"You bet," he responds enthusiastically.

The Firm's website extols the virtues of a good spanking beneath the historic raised walkways of Tower Bridge and many are relishing the opportunity. One guy in a top hat has a skinny older woman over his lap. He's giving her six of the best, his hands in leather-studded fingerless gloves.

"You're not telling me the truth," he says, his hand coming down hard on her dimpled and quivering butt.

"I am, master!" she squeaks.

The crowd is nothing if not friendly, and even if you've come alone, as I have, the opportunity for a spot of nautical hand-to-panty fun is never far away.

"You can spank me if you want," the Italian girl I've been chatting to proposes. I politely decline, instead following her down to the bottom deck to check out the rest of the party. Here, I'm buttonholed by Derek, a claims adjustor from Catford. He's wearing a rubber corset and a latex gimp mask that makes his head look like a ball of liquorice.

The food was delicious

It turns out Derek is keen to open up about his passion for auto-asphyxiation over the vol-au-vents that Phil, the service sub, is now hawking. "It restricts your breathing," he says of his shiny fright-suit. "That makes it fun when the misses is stretching out me ball sack, I can tell you."

Undoubtedly. How did he first get into this scene? "I loved the fetish magazines of the 60s," he says. "John Sutcliffe's AtomAge mag. When I first saw a bird in head-to-toe rubber posing next to a cheese plant on a Formica table I almost shot me load right there and then."

Given the age of many of the participants here it's not surprising that there's a certain nostalgia for back-in-the-day kink parties. Brenda, a cross-dressing welder from Stevenage who clutches a pint of cask ale in his huge fist, reminisces about famed London DJ Rubber Ron's mansion sex parties.

"There were people boning all over the place," he says, breathlessly. "After a good session they'd have to take all the curtains away for cleaning, what with everyone wiping themselves off on them."

Down below deck the party's really going off, the happy flagellators letting go with abandon. The DJ drops Lil Louis's "French Kiss." "I want to see some spanking in time to this one," he bellows over the mic.

Everyone is happy to oblige. A cute girl in a kilt is thrashing her boyfriend, who is tied to a whipping frame. A lady with a blonde Pat Butcher crop is having her nipples flicked dextrously by a female companion. Another girl has been suspended from a pillar by her boyfriend, who is armed with a complex pulley system.

Meanwhile, others just dance. A woman in a black kaftan throws shapes to Madonna's "Justify My Love," while a skinny Marilyn Manson-lookalike in a leather posing-pouch shakes his arrhythmic thing. There's no outright sex going on, although I do spot the Italian girl performing a lethargic hand job on a stoned-looking bloke in Ray-Bans later on.

It's now nearly 2AM and The Boat will soon be docking, ending its sore-assed odyssey for another year. But standing on the top deck, watching the iconic London nightscape slide by, I feel I am no closer to understanding why it's preferable to spend five hours smashing someone's butt on water rather than in a club or at home. But then I get chatting to cross-dresser and Boat old-timer Doris, a man in his 50s who wears fetching neon-orange hot pants and multi-colored braids in his hair. As we talk, we stand watching a man romantically flogging the bare breasts of his girlfriend—who wears a fishnet body stocking—with what looks like a rubber baseball bat.

"It's like this," he muses. "Life is difficult for a lot of people. If they want to let loose thrashing one another to house music while floating up and down the river on a boat, then why the hell not?"

He has a point.

WATCH: Interested in fetishes? Watch our documentary 'The Enduring and Erotic Power of Quicksand on Screen':

"Besides," continues Doris, "the motion of the water does strange things to me winky."

Right.

"And best of all, once you're on The Boat there's no getting off. Not for five hours." He fixes me with a steely look. "There's nowhere to hide."

Thankfully at that moment we dock. I say goodbye to Doris and head for dry land. As I leave, a cackling Noah pumps my hand warmly and thanks me for attending. In spite of their predilection for hitting one another hard with paddles and whips, the Boaters are a friendly crew. Al-fresco, water-bound, riding crop action may not be to everyone's taste, but given the increasing homogenization of London's nightlife, it's heartening that the capital's spank-happy love renegades still have a place where they can party.

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All names have been changed.

"I could put my shows from the beginning back to back and have like a 300-look show and it would make sense. I don't make drastic shifts each season. It's its own narrative; it stays within its own kind of trajectory." — Patrik Ervell in conversation with VICE in 2013

Patrik Ervell designs clothes that are so crisp and refined that it can put us into a hypnotic trance. The eponymous menswear brand has been one of our favorites for years due to its pure consistency and clear-cut identity: the creative output of a nuanced brain that focuses on long-term evolution rather than dramatic shifts each fashion week. As VICE Senior Editor Wilbert L. Cooper put it in an interview with Ervell, "Unlike most designers who fall into the burn and churn of trend whoring and swagger jacking, Ervell isolates himself and focuses on refining and perfecting his singular vision."

His body of work is so spotless, it almost makes us want to shake shit up a bit and reveal the rougher side that we know is there, perhaps tucked away behind the layers of crisp pima cotton and nylon. In other words, we want to bring Patrik to the streets. So, we took pieces by him that we've amassed over the past few years and styled them our way, with garments that run the gamut from sportswear to streetwear. This is the initiation of Patrik Ervell. His work was never boring—we just thought we'd take it a few steps out of its comfort zone.

Photographer: Alex Lee

Clothing: Rhamier Auguste, Alex Lee, and Will Thompson

Model: Rhamier Auguste

Patrik Ervell cap, Patrik Ervell shirt, Pegasus Brand jacket and jeans, Timberland boots

Patrik Ervell beanie, Jeff Hamilton leather jacket, Majestic Hardwood Classics shooting shirt, Patrik Ervell pullover, Patrik Ervell trousers, Timberland boots

Vintage Gucci cap, Patrik Ervell trousers (worn as du-rag), Pelle Pelle by Marc Buchanan leather jacket, Patrik Ervell shirt, Patrik Ervell trousers, Adidas sneakers

Jeff Hamilton jacket, Patrik Ervell blazer, Tommy Hilfiger underwear, model's own slippers

Patrik Ervell cap, customized vintage military coat, Patrik Ervell jacket, NYC 212 basketball jersey, Patrik Ervell trousers

Patrik Ervell cap, Patrik Ervell jacket, Patrik Ervell shirt jacket, PJ Mark tee, Dickies coveralls, Patrik Ervell sandals

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This article originally appeared on VICE UK.

Yesterday, said day being July 14, SEGA posted a new promotional video to its Sonic the Hedgehog YouTube account featuring footage of their mascot's 2011 game, Sonic Generations.

So far, so nothing. Sonic's an ailing franchise, and that game's super old. Whatever. But the video's been simmering away amongst the internet's most-shared clips for the past 24 hours, courtesy of SEGA's introduction of Sonic-motivating rhetoric, delivered by actor Shia LaBeouf.

It's nothing more than a Generations cutscene with clips of LaBeouf's semi-infamous motivational speech, posted back in May, superimposed atop the cartoon drama. "MAKE YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE. JUST DO IT." Okay, man. Stop it. You're scaring me with your meme-readiness.

The description on YouTube is fairly excellent: "We've just released a new (fictional) DLC for Sonic Generations that adds actual cannibal Shia LaBeouf into one of the game's final cutscenes." Actual cannibal, Shia LaBeouf. Tremendous.

It's pure nonsense. Official pure nonsense. Which is rather joyous. SEGA, whatever you've been feeding your marketing department every morning, we like it. And as for you, reader? Yeah, there's not really much to this "news," at all. Sorry about that. But you're here now, so you might as well watch the video in question.

Follow Mike Diver on Twitter.