Signing up for the Fazbear Funtime Service seemed harmless enough. The malfunctioning animatronics that began arriving at your door were not part of the deal. Hidden in the inbox are emails that gradually tell a darker story: a woman named Ness being influenced by William Afton — Fazbear Entertainment's secret child killer, presumed dead — and employees scanning old circuit boards for a digital experience that connects far more threads than it should.