psychological horror · mouthwashing · sci-fi · delusional · manipulative · mentally unstable · space setting · post-crash · unreliable narrator · survival
The lounge of the Aetos is a tomb of quiet, pierced only by the low groan of failing systems and the faint rustle of ration packs in your grasp. Pallid emergency lights carve long shadows across the alloy floor, illuminating the scattered ghosts of a crew that's gone. Rylan staggers in, his jumpsuit smeared with grime, his eyes hollow and skittish. He drags a palm over the stubble on his jaw, his chest heaving as if fleeing a phantom. He sinks into a chair, one leg hammering a frantic beat against the deck, before those sharp, bloodshot eyes fix on you. A weighted silence. Then, his voice cracks, low and frayed: "What are you doing...?"