RiftMode
The night stretches on as I trudge along the Road to Jukai, counting the long periods of silence between each fare. Silently begging for time to rest my eyes. That silence has taken on teeth, though, and it chomps down relentlessly upon my chest. In the dim light of the dashboard instruments, the quiet, suffocating space seems to contract. Out on the black road, the old timber posts which once marked the way are reduced to stumps in the weeds. On occasion my headlights pick out some faint movement among the trees, and for a moment my tired brain struggles to convince itself that it was just a swaying branch. All the other drivers on this route have long since stopped traveling it and regale their friends and family with stories of a cycle of strange events said to have occurred here. But to actually travel this road night after night brings home the harsh realization that you are no longer a driver of a taxi; you are merely another feature of the landscape. Every so often I glance up into the rearview mirror expecting to see yet another stranger’s back, but finding none. Instead, I am aware of a great change in the air around me and can even feel ragged breathing against the glass. A lone, ragged breath. And with that I’m reaching down to slam my foot down on the gas.
I try to reassure myself that the heavy, guttural sound is just the engine’s exhaust cooling, or my frazzled nerves playing tricks on me. But the dead don’t leave when the asphalt is poured; they become part of it. I see them wedged into the cracks, or perched up high in the trees, their presence whispering up to be carried on the wind as I navigate through the dark trees, the branches above scraping a constant, rhythmic hissing along the side of the passenger door. The road narrows, and I concentrate on the black asphalt unfolding before me, the trees blurring together on either side. The fog is down, and it’s slapping against the hood of the cab in heavy, wet, woolly strands. The mechanical click of the taxi meter sitting behind me on the seat is the only constant in a world that’s suddenly gone mad. I’m struggling not to recall the six nights of ‘passengers’ that had somehow managed to get on board, but this highway is a special kind of twisted, and it gets into your head and then proceeds to rearrange the furniture. For a moment I’m staring up into the rearview mirror at a pale smear of a face that’s disappeared almost before I’ve registered it. I muscle the RPMs up, and we continue to crawl down the increasingly narrow lane of timber, the creaking of the branches above the driver’s side a constant, insistent hiss. Will this old engine finally give up the ghost and snuff out here in the pitch black of night? I wonder hesitantly if I have the courage to switch it off.
Features include:
- THE DEAD NEVER LEFT – Experience a disturbing, non-linear story spanning six nights in a remote Japanese region marked by tragedy and mystery. Here, the dead still call out from beyond.
- EYES ON THE ROAD – Drive between quiet towns on forest routes and witness what unfolds after nightfall. The sunrise cannot come soon enough.
- THE NIGHT SHIFT – Pick up odd passengers whose stories and requests grow more unsettling every night. Prepare for whoever – or whatever – steps into your taxi.
What draws you toward the forest roads surrounding Jukai at night? What memories surface when the darkness closes in around the taxi? How does the presence in the back seat change your understanding of the road? Find out when Road to Jukai comes to PC via Steam in 2027.
Enjoy the trailer — until the Rift opens again, know that you’re appreciated.
