Bad Trip: NYC

The city doesn't sleep. It hallucinates. There is a rumor. Everyone who walks into the witches' territory gets the first smoke free. The second one you want. And wanting, in this city, was never the same thing as choosing.NEW YORK DIDN'T FALL. IT FOLDED. Something opened a hole in the city's reality and the city — being New York — mostly kept going. People still order coffee. The sky has an eye. Cops file it under noise complaints. Nobody makes a big deal out of it, which is the scariest part.

Two of you go down toward The Source through streets, subways, catacombs and folds of the city that should not exist.YOU DON'T CHOOSE WHEN. YOU CHOOSE WHAT. There is no smoke button. There never will be. Its absence is the game. The city decides when your hands start shaking. You get a few seconds of warning — a tremor, a whisper rising, the edge of the frame taking one breath — and then four stages you cannot cancel:LIGHT IT. INHALE.

THE TRIP CLIMBS. REALITY BREAKS. Your weapon lowers. The camera stays yours. Whatever is walking toward you does not wait for you to finish.THE TRUTH WINDOWHow deep you are decides what is real — for both of you, at the same time.NORMAL — the city as advertised.WITHIN — the Veil goes legible. You see what was always standing there.ABOVE — the noise. Creatures that were never born.…