1885: Fazbear Q & A – Chapters 4 & 5


Title: Fazbear Q & A
Author: Lolita Westmore
Media: Video Game
Topic: Five Nights at Freddy’s
Genre: Humor/Supernatural
URL Chapter 4
URL Chapter 5
Critiqued by Ghostcat


Hello, and welcome back to this odd little fic! Not a whole lot happened in the last three chapters, most of which could summarized as ‘stuff happened, little of it related to the source materials’, and I assume the trend will continue.

I don’t own the FNAF series. Just the storyline and Baby.

As we’ve covered extensively in the past, you do NOT need to add disclaimers to a fic – especially not the same exact disclaimer to every blasted chapter.

Ninety years without slumbering (tick, tock, tick, tock), his life’s seconds numbering (tick, tock, tick, tock), it stopped short –never to go again- when the old man died.”

If those look like song lyrics, it’s because they are; specifically the chorus from a very old song called “My Grandfather’s Clock”, which is what the Marionette’s music box plays to keep it quiet. Gold star to the author for that obscure bit of FNAF trivia.

The comforting tinkles of the music box filled a room littered with toys and posters, virtually untouched by time.

This isn’t going to be like one of those artsy ASMR videos, is it?

A fine layer of dust cloaked the electric blue countertop and shelves, cobwebs festooning the various action figures, plushies, balls and lava lamps waiting for owners that will never come to claim them. The paper plate children hung on the wall, bearing somewhat grotesque crayon faces and straggly hair of confetti and construction paper all peppered with dust and cobwebs. Balloons slightly swayed in the nonexistent breeze, as full as the hour they were blown up.

Damn. Things have gotten a lot more purple since the last chapter. And I don’t really remember there being any lava lamps in the prize corner, but the footage is grainy and there are other things that occupy the player than taking note of every single toy on the shelves.

The lullaby soon faded into the dark, bathing the room in silence until a shuffling noise started.

Bathing in silence? Wha?

In a corner adjacent to the prize counter stood an enormous white gift box wrapped with a violet ribbon and inside, its occupant rose. A lanky black figure with purple tears and rosy cheeks stood still for a moment before cocking its head to the side. My song…

Is your name Cotton-Eye Joe? Because that nuclear earworm of a song is pure evil.

Fun fact, the mask the Marionette wears is inspired by the classic Pierrot clown, which usually has a white face, red lips, and painted-on tears around the eyes. So the Marionette is technically a killer clown.

Swinging one impossibly long leg over the edge, it stepped onto the checkerboard floor with supernatural grace, still looking for whoever shut off its precious song.

Why is this taking so long? If you do let the music box wind down completely, the Marionette attacks within seconds. None of this slow, deliberate nonsense.

Clop clop clop clop clop clop

Koori-chan didn’t ‘rescue’ another ox, did she?

The figure straightened when it heard what sounded like women’s heels coming down the hall. That bitch… She’ll pay for her crime… It squatted, fully prepared to lunge at the criminal and strangle the life out of them.

:checks clock on phone:

Seriously, we could have had, like, six jumpscares in this time.

The door opened…



Did I accidentally copy a chapter from the wrong fic? The first three chapters just whizzed past, but this is dragging like it got its foot caught in a beartrap.

Its fingers jammed on the wall and its face smashed into the door. What… Th-that’s impossible!

What, that walls exist? Granted this is just another segment of the Void, but even the Void has walls. Sometimes. The Marionette likely does have some sort of supernatural ability that allows it to travel through solid objects, as that would be the only way it could travel the distance between the prize corner and the security room so fast and without being seen.

Baby giggled and shook her head as she watched her would-be attacker try to get its bearings after taking a door to the face.

It’s probably a lot like watching my cats after I turn the laser pointer off.

It made her wonder how it would fare with the other animatronics and Mike, let alone the questions they would receive from the perverted masses.

Despite the author’s assurances that they won’t write any graphic sex scenes, they really seem to be pushing the audience to ask sex-related questions. Maybe they want to write a smutty fanfic but don’t want anyone to think it was their idea.

The lack of letters has led them to grow hopeful that they would be free soon, to the point where Golden Freddy discovered escape plans hidden in Mike’s pillowcase.

Do these plans involve a plausible way to get out of the stable time bubble that Baby created to contain this pocket universe? Because I’m fairly certain just leaving the restaurant wouldn’t do anything.

The slow period made Baby bored, since she had no means to play with her victims and figured yet another member of Fazbear’s Pizzeria’s shadowy past would inject some life into it. Especially one whom Mike never met during his career…

If Baby is supposed to be some sort of sadistic monster who enjoys tormenting her victim, why does she need outside input to do so? That doesn’t make any sense. And it was stated in a previous chapter that Mike had access to fan-works and other resources, which would probably make some mention of the marionette.

Once her slender attacker gained its bearings, it jumped up with glowing white eyes to leer at Baby. “Return my music,” it demanded in a low child-like echo.

…I have nothing but questions.

“Actually I have a better idea,” she replied. “It’s been so long since you’ve gotten a chance to… play with someone right?”

Since one of the main tasks in the game it to keep that freaky thing in its box, I would hope so.

The puppet balked at this.

So … It doesn’t want to go ‘play’ with someone? Does it just want to curl up for another nap instead?

After Fazbear’s Pizzeria shut down and Jeremy moved out of the state, it had grown rather bored just sitting in its box and listening to its favorite lullaby. How long it slumbered was unknown, but now that it was awake perhaps it was time to torment the humans it loathed so much.

With a curt nod, the Puppet followed Baby out of the Prize Room down the hallway.

I don’t think the author understands what ‘balked’ means.

And, realistically, how long could the Marionette have been asleep? The music box doesn’t play for very long and there was no indication that anyone bothered winding it at any point in the previous chapters.

And that’s the end of that chapter! There is a long Author’s Note at the end, though.

Well it’s been a year since the FNAF saga began and it’s a little over a month before Halloween! I’ve also noticed quite a few truth or dare style fics popping up in this section lately. I wonder if I had some role in that…

A year since the first game came out, or a year since you began writing this? The first game in the series came out in late 2014, while the first chapter of this fic was posted in 2015 and was last updated in 2016, so it can be either.

Ideally, I’d love to do a Halloween special with everyone taking part so keep sending questions and dares in the reviews! Thank you to everyone who’s read, favorited, followed and reviewed! *bows*

Y’know, if someone is looking for instant feedback then writing a fic that will get buried in one of the more popular corners of ff.net is probably not the way to go. I’d be curious to know if the author ever tried to promote their fic or seek questions from sources outside of ff.net; like Tumblr, or Twitter, or DeviantArt.

Now, on to the last chapter!

Well I wasn’t able to do a Halloween special like I’d hoped to and it’s also been a while since I contributed a new piece of prose. So let’s remedy that shall we?

Probably because teasing your audience to get a response only works if you have an audience.

I don’t own the FN F saga. Just the storyline and Baby.


“Freddy, do you know how long it’s been since Baby spoke to us?”

I don’t know, disembodied voice, why don’t you tell us?

Chica’s question jolted Freddy from his daydreams.

Was he dreaming of electric sheep?

The two were in the kitchen shooting the breeze while they awaited more questions from their strange hostess, or perhaps permission to leave and never return in Mike’s case.

Is Chica such a boring conversationalist that Freddy literally falls asleep while she’s talking?

Chica had a party sized bag of potato chips open in front of her and was shoveling handfuls of the fried snack into her mouth while Freddy noshed on some lukewarm mozzarella sticks.

…They are ROBOTS! Why are they eating people food?

The kitchen was much like any one would see in a restaurant, with the industrial stoves, fryers, fridges and cookware needed to satisfy the hungry masses that visited every day.

And it was extremely important to Baby that she recreate the kitchen down to the last detail instead of just leaving it an empty room because reasons.

The pantry was stocked with various snacks ranging from crackers to popcorn to mixed nuts and the freezers were filled with pizzas, chicken tenders and ready-made pasta for whenever they grew hungry.

The chicken tenders I can understand, but frozen pizza? In a pizza restaurant? They make that shit from scratch, dude. (Or from pre-made mixes, which is near enough to the same.) Probably the same goes for the pasta since it’s easier to store dry pasta, which is more cost-effective for numerous reasons, rather than filling up freezer space with the stuff.

The entire place gleamed with the cleanliness that it usually had before the cooks arrived to christen it, so to speak.

Someone’s never been in a commercial kitchen before. There is some mess involved in cooking, but kitchens tend to be pretty clean, not only to make cooking easier but also because of those pesky health codes.

Freddy shrugged. “I’ve lost track,” he admitted to the young chick. “It’s like whenever we blink, we’re much farther in the future than before.”

I think what you’re describing is called “sleep”. But aren’t you in some sort of time bubble where time is super-compressed? It should feel like it is dragging on forever. Kind of like this fic has been.

“I wonder if Mike feels the same,” Chica wondered aloud, with a mouthful of chips. She grabbed a nearby clip and closed the bag before putting it back in the pantry. “Goldie did say something about finding escape plans in his room.”

I would kind of assume if he’s making escape plans that he feels the time isn’t passing by too fast but is going quite slow.

Freddy closed his eyes and shook his head. “He’s always been a jumpy one. We all saw that for sure.”

I think anyone who is being stalked by giant animatronics would feel a bit on edge.

He mentally flashed back to one night where the power died minutes before 6 AM and Mike’s eyes growing enormous as Freddy’s eyes blinked in time to the Toreador March. He swore that the human left a moist trail in his mad dash for the door when the chimes sounded.

Why does he have to mentally flash back? He’s a frickin’ robot, isn’t he? Can’t he access the memory of the event?

The kitchen doors swung open and a skinny black and white figure strode in and headed straight for the freezer. It grabbed a package of chicken strips, placing four on a nearby plate before putting it in the microwave and turning it on.

If those are meant to be cooked in the fryer then microwaving them is only going to thaw them out, not cook them in any significant way.

“Um who are you?” Chica asked confused. She didn’t recall seeing this one around the pizzeria in the past.

I’m confused as to exactly what these characters are supposed to know about their own source materials.

The stranger turned around, a wide smile forever plastered on its off-white face. “You don’t remember me?” It said in a distorted child-like voice. “I was in the prize corner handing out gifts for the little ones.”

I thought you were sleeping in the giant box?

Chica’s face scrunched up as she struggled to recall this, when the microwave dinged. Like a proverbial light bulb moment, Freddy’s eyes widened as he snapped his fingers. “You’re the Puppet!” he cried out. “We haven’t seen you in so long! How have you been?”

Apparently, they are hungry for salmonella. Good thing they are a machine.

“Rather bored,” the Puppet replied while it turned to retrieve its food. “Ever since I went into hiding after…” it grimaced before taking a bite of chicken. “I cannot recall how long I have been inside my box after what happened.”


It can’t be a hold-over from the dead children occupying them, because that doesn’t happen in the author’s version of events. They are just behaving like organic beings, more so than they ever did in the source materials.

“I’d like to say,” Chica paused and started to count on her fingers but the Puppet held up a hand to stop her.

“No need to do that, I think it has been long enough.”

:waves hand:

This interaction is pointless, moving on.

“Well we did have a new security guard,” Freddy added. “Mike Schmidt is his name.”

The Puppet chewed on his food in contemplation. “What is he like?”

Y’know, human; soft, squishy, weak bladder control when confronted by hellish nightmares of teeth and pain…

“Jumpy, rather foul-mouthed, doesn’t really like us,” the bear replied. “Goldie found out that he’s been trying to get out of here since he was taken here.”

Gee, it’s almost as if the person you kidnapped doesn’t want to be here! And instead of showing the audience something interesting, like an escape attempt or Mike slowly succumbing to madness, you’re dicking around in the kitchen.

A low chuckle left the slender figure as he finished off his snack. He should be an interesting one to mess with indeed…

:rubs forehead:

Do you know what might be more interesting than talking about how interesting something is? DOING SOMETHING INTERESTING!  But nothing is going to happen, interesting or not, because that is the end of the chapter. It’s not the end of the fic, though, because there’s an Author’s Note.

Of course there is. I think this fic is two-thirds Author’s Notes.

Considering FN F: Sister Location is featuring a new animatronic called Baby, I’m starting to wonder if I should change our hostess’s name to avoid confusion.

I don’t think you need to worry about it. It has been over a year an there has been no updates to the fic. Probably because a fic that is relying heavily on audience participation yet isn’t being read by anyone is going to stagnate very quickly.

I’m also not planning on adding Baby or the Ballerina animatronic (whatever her name may be) for right now.

Her name is Ballora, that creepy bitch.

I’d like to wait until the game comes out so that I can see them in action and get my head canon figured out for them.

I guess that means you’re going to pretend that they will essentially be original characters that only share superficial characteristics (like their names and general appearance) with the canon versions.

I’m very sorry I haven’t been active much on this site outside of editing my profile and occasionally favoriting stories.

Authors don’t really need to apologies for a lack of output. I would rather wait a long time for quality stories rather than have someone toss together some half-baked mess and call it a day.

I’ve been trying to hunt for a job and also I’ve been rather lazy courtesy of writer’s block.

Being lazy and having writer’s block are two very things; if you’re blocked it means you want to write, but for some reason you can’t. Being lazy means you just don’t want to write.

I’m hoping to pick things up a little bit more and churn out some more writing for you guys.

If you think of writing as a grueling task that just has to get done, then you’re better off finding another hobby.

Please leave questions and dares in your reviews (anything goes with this fic) and thank you to everyone whose read, followed and faved this story! *bows*

Seriously, it looks like the author is really wanting someone to make some really naughty suggestions. You don’t need someone else’s permission to write smut; if you want to write it, then just write the damned smut already!

And that, at long last, is the end of the fic. For now. It isn’t marked as complete, but hasn’t been updated for over a year. It may have been relegated to the land of abandoned fics, but then again it might get a dozen updates in a week. Who knows?

6 Comments on “1885: Fazbear Q & A – Chapters 4 & 5”

  1. BatJamags says:

    Well, that was pointless.

    I feel like I say something like that at the end of every fic.

    Then again, I’m pretty sure it’s true of every fic.

    • GhostCat says:

      These kind of fics are just inherently pointless; they rely on audience participation in order to get anywhere, but that’s assuming that anyone is actually reading the fic which often isn’t the case. There are hundreds of thousands of fics just on ff.net alone, so just posting chapters and assuming that someone will find the fic and be interested in reading it and want to participate is not a good idea. The competition is just too great. Unless the author is really aggressive at self-promoting, they aren’t going to get the responses they want.

  2. AdmiralSakai says:

    Clop clop clop clop clop clop

    Well, now I’m certainly terrified.

  3. AdmiralSakai says:

    If Baby is supposed to be some sort of sadistic monster who enjoys tormenting her victim, why does she need outside input to do so?

    Maybe she’s also just really, really dumb.

  4. Jon Arbuckle says:

    “In a corner adjacent to the prize counter stood an enormous white gift box wrapped with a violet ribbon and inside, its occupant rose. A lanky black figure with purple tears and rosy cheeks stood still for a moment before cocking its head to the side. My song…”

    It was… Han Solo!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.