You will never be a crewmate. You have no purpose on this ship, you have no tasks, you have no mini games to play. You are an impostor twisted by drugs and surgery into a crude mockery of amongusness.

All the validation you get is two-faced and halfhearted. Behind your back people call you sus. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your friends laugh at your sussy appearance behind closed doors.

Crewmates are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed crewmates to sniff out sus with incredible efficiency. Even impostors who pass act uncanny and unnatural to a crewmate. Your jumping in vents is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a crewmate home with you, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets the suspicion that you are faking your tasks.

You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it is going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the sus creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight.

Eventually it will be too much to bear - people will vote you out for being the impostor and it will plunge you into the cold abyss of space. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They will bury you with a headstone marked with your discord tag, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know an impostor is buried there. Your spacesuit will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a body that is unmistakably sussy.

This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back. You are sus.