Some folks say you could pick every blade of grass every human has ever walked on in the time it would take to walk across a single pixel on a map of the Backrooms. Unfortunately for Remmy Higgins—a defeated art school dropout working a dead-end job at a lousy pizzeria—“some folks” are correct.
Glitched away to this eerie and infinite expanse of e...
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Some folks say you could pick every blade of grass every human has ever walked on in the time it would take to walk across a single pixel on a map of the Backrooms. Unfortunately for Remmy Higgins—a defeated art school dropout working a dead-end job at a lousy pizzeria—“some folks” are correct.
Glitched away to this eerie and infinite expanse of empty nostalgia, Remmy scours the liminal backcountry between the mental and the physical in search of an escape. And with his only help coming from a seemingly sentient pocket arcade toy that cannot speak outside the stock phrases of children's games…his chances of success are looking grim! To survive, the lonely artist must outwit and evade a litany of unwanted and unholy company. He is hunted, after all, by a procession of manic apparitions stepping out from his regret-filled past, and the grotesque and gargantuan insect god that feeds on them: “The Silverfish.” To blaze any trail home, Remmy will have to rip a paradox apart and use the pieces to forge an answer to an unanswerable question: how do you out-think a god who eats your very thoughts?
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