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You have a wonderful time haunting an abandoned amusement park. All the rides and attractions are dead, which makes them fair game to a ghost. You ride the rides. You attract the attractions. You scare teenagers that sneak in to spray graffiti and make out.

Eventually people start talking about the haunted amusement park and some teenagers and their dog show up. They don't spray graffiti. They (mostly) don't make out. Instead they chase you around and eventually catch you.

"Now let's see who you really are!" says the biggest and studliest teen. He grabs your ghostly visage and rips it off to reveal your ghostly skull.

"Ow," you say, "Despite being a ghost this still hurts." Then, to everyone's surprise, you die. Again.

You continue to persist as an unliving spectre. At first this is a pleasant surprise, but then you find your former ghost friends see you as frightening and disturbing. To them you are now a symbol of their own immortality and their fear of undying. They don't want to talk to you or ride rides with you any more.

It seems that seeing a ghost of a ghost is as bad to a regular ghost as seeing a regular ghost is to a living being, and now you can't even interact with the physical world the way ghosts can. You can haunt powerfully haunted places, but hanging out anywhere like that for too long just scares all the normal ghosts away, which means then you must move on too. You reflect that this would make you a useful ally to living exorcists, but you are hopelessly removed from ever being able to contact the living again.

You drift for a long time before finally finding the one place you are welcome. A vast ghostly ghost city, a place spoken of only in whispers by regular ghosts. Here your fellow ghost ghosts vainly attempt to reunlive some vestige their lost ghost unlives. Ghost unlife is mostly scaring mortals and being caught in the echos of your previous life, so the options for a ghost of a ghost are even more limited than that. Pretending to haunt things. Really trying, but failing, to remember what a steering wheel or a luigi board is. None of it really appeals to you, which is fine, because none of it really appeals to any of you. You end up spending most of your ghost ghost unlife trying to communicate with other ghosts of ghosts about how miserable it all is. Finally, one day you're run over by another ghost ghost who was almost, but not quite, remembering what it was like to be a trucker.

You become a ghost of a ghost of a ghost. Now even other ghost-ghosts float away in fear at your approach. While chasing one g-ghost trying to make friends you get the end of your g-g-ghost bedsheet snagged in some power lines and blow out the electricity to the entire ghost ghost city.

You become a ghost of a ghost of a ghost of a ghost. You smash your g-g-g-ghost forehead against a g-g-ghost wall in frustration, but misjudge how much force a g-g-g-ghost body can generate and/or withstand and explode your g-g-g-ghost brains against the g-g-ghost wall.

You become a g-g-g-g-ghost, and hold very very still in order to avoid saying or doing anything that might cause you to fall further into deeper layers of afterlife. You wonder if this is actually what the afterlife is, and if this process is in fact part of how spirits move on into the great beyond. This is all very typical behavior and thoughts for a ghost four times removed. Unfortunately, g-g-g-g-ghosts have such a tenuous grasp on personhood and existence that remaining very still and thinking philosophically is enough to bore them to death.

You slip deeper and deeper now, the layers of undeath becoming thinner and thinner as each one strips away the last traces of your personhood and individuality.

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