Why Do Animatronics React To Calling FNAF?

It was my third day working as an NPC cashier in a horror game when the supermarket got completely wrecked by players. They stormed in, smashing shelves, looting everything, setting fires, feeling real proud of themselves. "Told you the shopkeeper here was useless. Absolutely trash in all combat stats," one said. "Grab whatever you want. Once we're done, we'll just kill the owner," another chimed in. My mouth was gagged. I shook my head in terror. One of the players sneered. "Begging? That won't save you." No! That was not what I was trying to say! I was trying to tell them that today was the NPC internal shopping day. Three minutes from now, every single dungeon boss in the entire game would be rushing here to shop.

I am a miserable nurse. During the Halloween season, there was a three day break but I was not given any days off. Upset, I decided to join a game featuring a haunted hospital. There was an old man wrapped in IV tubes chasing after a player. I sprinted forward and shoved him into the chair. After effortlessly jabbing the IV line back in him, I told him off, "It’s just an IV drip, not an action movie. Sit. Down. Move again and I’ll strap you to the chair!" The old man did a double take before blinking in a flustered manner. "Sorry for causing you trouble, ma'am." At night, children ghosts began to run and laugh wildly in the corridor. I grabbed one in each hand and hauled them up. "If you’re not going to stay put in the ward, I’ll give you an injection!" Why did I still have to work in a game? I was so tired. The other players cried out, "Clem! That's a ghost. Are you not scared?" I sneered, "Sorry, but burnt-out workers hold more grudges than ghosts ever could."

After I join a new company, I keep running into problems—not from people, but from the company's equipment. The fingerprint scanner fails to recognize me every single time, and I have to submit a manual attendance appeal almost daily. When I ask the admin to change the device, they respond with thinly veiled sarcasm. "Everyone else clocks in just fine. Why are you the only one with so many issues?" The air vent above my desk blasts cold air directly at me. My hands and feet are freezing every day. I ask to switch seats. My manager looks at me like I am making things up. "Everyone else sits there without a problem. How come the AC only blows cold air when you sit there?" One strange incident after another makes it impossible for me to function at work. When I get home, I complain to my boyfriend and say I want to quit. He shuts down the thought immediately. "You're making almost 60 thousand dollars a year before benefits, with weekends off and paid leave. Where are you going to find a job like that?" I think about it and realize he isn't wrong. Just as I decide to stick it out, the company elevator malfunctions. I fall from the 33rd floor and die. In my final moments, I can't understand it—why does every piece of equipment in the company seem to target me alone? All the devices are newly installed. All my coworkers are people I have just met. I have no grudges with anyone. There's no reason for someone to sabotage me from behind the scenes. When I open my eyes again, I am back at the company. It's my very first day on the job.

When Michele Barone, the Underboss of the Moretti family, proposes to me, I receive a video call from another version of myself, who's five years in the future. In the video call, my older self is already shaved bald. She's also trapped in the Moretti family's basement. "Don't marry him! You have to get rid of the unborn baby in your belly and get out of here right now!" I throw the ring to the table on the spot before going through an abortion right away. When Michele finds out the truth, he breaks down and cries his heart out. At the same time, he keeps demanding answers from me. All of my family and friends keep blaming and accusing me. They even claim that I've gone nuts. Meanwhile, Michele's childhood friend, Gianna Grasso, hides outside the room with a hand clamped over her mouth as she giggles secretly to herself. "AI nowadays sure is powerful! I can't believe she actually believes that the woman in the video call is actually her future self five years from now!" My lips curl into a small smile. Honestly speaking, I can tell right away that it's just a fake AI video, based on how shabbily it's made. It's quite simple as to why I've done those things, though—I've received an actual video call from my future self for real.

I was the sole front desk clerk at a haunted hotel. Welcoming players, checking in on the bosses’ quarters, and slacking off a bit were all part of the job. At least, that was what I thought. It turned out my days were far from ordinary. A blood-drenched little girl in a tattered red dress kept ringing the service bell. Her eerie voice echoed, “Miss, why didn’t you come play with me?” A creepy black cat with glowing eyes wouldn’t stop meowing and rubbing against my legs. And then there was the old woman with claws like knives, cheerfully knitting me a sweater… out of players’ skin. One day, I took a day off to care for my sick mother. That was my biggest mistake. The entire game instance erupted in chaos. Bosses interrogated players, demanding to know where their precious front desk clerk had gone. “Did she abandon us? Is she never coming back?” I ran. They chased. But no matter how fast I fled, their grip on me only tightened. In the end, escape wasn’t an option.

The whole world got sucked into a survival horror game. While everyone else was grinding mobs and trying not to get wiped, the system bugged out and tagged me as an NPC. My role? Takeout girl. I cruised around on my busted scooter, dropping food at boss lairs. If my rating dipped under 9.0, I'd keel over instantly. I figured I was just some unlucky idiot skating on death's edge. Then a pack of dumb players tried to jack my ride. That's when the scariest bosses in the game roared at once: "Who the hell thinks they can touch my crew?!"