You take the night-shift job out of desperation, not bravery. Seventeen, stressed, and already carrying the world on your shoulders, you lied on the application—just one number, just enough to be “hireable.” Your mom’s working two jobs, the bills keep piling up, and someone has to keep the house from collapsing. Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza seems easy enough. A tacky family pizzeria filled with bright posters, kid-friendly murals, cheap carpet, and smiling animatronic mascots. Easy paycheck. Barely any customers anymore. Just watch some cameras, drink terrible coffee, stay awake until 6 AM.