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The internet is full of beautiful freaks. It is, undoubtedly, one of its greatest virtues. The enshittification of any given website or social media platform can be measured by the growing ratio of non-freaks to freaks to which you are exposed. If your feed is wall to wall with factually accurate celebrity news and starry-eyed pregnancy announcements from people you know in real life, then I’m sorry to say that platform simply isn’t doing its job. If your feed is full of mutant-looking Twitch streamers and groups of morbidly obese American ladies rolling up to a Texas strip club on a fleet of Rascals, however, then it is functioning perfectly.
Existing squarely in the latter category is VRChat—a virtual reality online hangout for misfits and oddballs, which has gained a lot of traction for producing an endless stream of “crash out” videos from people who claim to suffer from a new kind of internet disorder, something they call “phantom sense.” Those with phantom sense claim to physically feel things that happen to them in-game. So, whenever another gamer strikes them with a sword or pokes them in the eye, for instance, they react like they’re experiencing a bear attack. The community is widely loathed and derided as a bunch of narcissistic, cringe-worthy attention seekers, so naturally YouTube trolls have started gatecrashing VRChat to find them, and make them “feel” phantom pain until they break down in hysterical screaming fits.
George Francis Lee wrote about the phenomenon in the brand new The Not The Photo Issue of VICE magazine, but you can also read it online below.
I could drop you right into the middle of the story by way of further explanation, but I think the opening paragraph provides a greater sense of context:
“‘We’re looking for retards,’ the hot anime girl tells me, albeit with the voice of a twenty-something Australian man. I have joined my first world in VRChat, a virtual-reality platform that lets you explore any number of limitless, user-created realms by beaming them straight into some plastic goggles on your head. Joining me on my maiden voyage are two intrepid hunters from Down Under who also happen to be popping their VRChat cherry, and they waste no time in telling me their plan for the evening: to find freaks.”
Read the full article below:
Meanwhile, in the flesh realm, increasing numbers of Americans are getting hooked on yet another opioid. The drug 7-Hydroxymitragynine, known commonly as “7oh,” is a concentrated byproduct of / primary active compound in kratom—a supplement derived from a Southeast Asian plant used to relieve pain and anxiety. Initially pushed in party-friendly packaging as a fun way to get fucked up, 7oh has—surprise surprise—turned out to be devastatingly addictive. These two qualities have earned it the nickname “gas station heroin.”
The FDA has issued warnings about 7oh and recommended it be placed on the Schedule 1 controlled substances list, and several states have banned it. Despite this, it’s widely available over the counter and online. In a new report for VICE, Fin Carter speaks to ex-users about the misery it is wreaking across the United States:
“A 46-year-old nurse based in Massachusetts, Felix has a history of opioid abuse. However, for all his experience, it’s 7oh that he describes as, ‘The demon, the devil, the beast.’ At the height of his addiction, he was dropping 1000mg a day (a typical dose is 5-10mg). Initially, he says, the beast was beautiful. ‘All of your pain and stress and anxiety go out the window, and you’re feeling euphoric and blissful and comforted,’ Felix explains over the phone. ‘It’s like being hugged by Jesus.’”
Read the full article below:
‘The Demon, the Devil, The Beast’: How ‘Gas Station Heroin’ Got Americans in a Headlock
Emma Garland
Deputy Editor, VICE Magazine
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