MA Television & Cross-Media Culture MA Thesis
Michelle Neleman 10438823
Supervisor: dr. Toni Pape Second Reader: dr. Mark Stewart
25-06-2017 Word Count: 21,289
Panic-Inducing Gameplay,
Complex Lore & Fan Engagement
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Table of Contents
Introduction ... 3
1. FNAF as a Survival Horror Videogame ... 9
1.1 Perspective ... 9
1.2 Suspense and Fear through Diegetic Elements ... 12
1.3 Suspense and Fear through Interactive Gameplay Design ... 15
2. Storytelling in FNAF ... 20
2.1 Layered Storytelling ... 20
2.2 Serialized Storytelling ... 25
2.3 Transmedia Storytelling ... 28
3. FNAF and Let’s Plays ... 34
3.1 The Origins of Let’s Plays on YouTube ... 34
3.2 The Horror Genre as Entertainment ... 35
3.3 Videogames as a Collective Experience on YouTube ... 38
4. FNAF and Fan Engagement ... 44
4.1 The Theorist Community ... 44
4.2 The Creation of Fan-Made Content ... 49
Conclusion ... 53
The “Five Nights at Freddy’s” Franchise (2014 – 2017) ... 57
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Introduction
After the negative reception the videogame Chipper & Sons Lumber Co. (2013), the story goes that Scott Cawthon felt too discouraged to make new games. However, a year later Cawthon took the criticism of his characters unintentionally looking like terrifying robots, to create a horror game solely based on haunted animatronics: Five Nights at Freddy’s (FNAF). In the game, the player takes the role of a night security guard in his first week of working at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria – a Chuck-E-Cheese’s type of restaurant featuring animatronics to entertain the children. The restaurant seems to be involved in several incidents, most notably the disappearance of five children. This incident is most likely related to the animatronics coming to life at night, attempting to kill the protagonist by putting him into one of the spare, animatronic suits.
Within a short period of time, FNAF turned out to be a huge success. Only three months after the first game, the second game was released which closely resembled its predecessor. A couple of months later, FNAF 3 was released which, instead of a restaurant, takes place at a horror attraction based on the pizzeria. FNAF 4 took the gameplay in a different direction. Playing as a small child, the player has to listen closely at the doors to prevent the animatronics from coming inside the bedroom. At this point, the franchise started expanding beyond the horror games. Soon after FNAF 4 was released, the first FNAF novel was published. Moreover, the FNAF universe was translated to a RPG game titled FNAF
World and it was announced that Warner Bros. bought the rights to produce a FNAF film.
After the release of FNAF World, a new horror title was announced. FNAF Sister Location (FNAF SL) features completely new gameplay in which the player moves through an underground storage facility, performing tasks as a technician. Although separate entities, each piece of content shares a relation to the overall storyline. The extension of content across multiple platforms has extended FNAF from a single game to a transmedia universe.
Part of FNAF’s success can be ascribed to the platform YouTube. YouTube has become an important part of mainstream culture and proven to be a lucrative medium to many creative individuals. It is evolved from low-barrier video sharing website that attracted a lot of amateur content to a platform that offers a space to many (semi-)professional YouTube
channels that feature a distinct style and have built a large, loyal following over the years. Rather than merely being about content sharing, YouTube is as much as a video sharing website as a social medium. Due to these characteristics, YouTube offered a platform to a variety of fan culture. In the case of FNAF, its gameplay and complex lore was quickly picked up by several YouTube channels and their audiences. As fan participation increased,
4 Cawthon played into the increasing popularity on YouTube by sometimes releasing content early to YouTube creators.
Although one can approach FNAF as a success story of a hard-working individual, the thesis aims to gain a better understanding of how different factors contributed to the videogame’s success. I am interested in identifying the affordances of both the videogame and YouTube to get a better understanding of why transmedia franchises, particularly FNAF, are able to stimulate engagement and appeal to a large audience. Therefore, my research is based on the following question: What elements of the horror game Five Nights at Freddy’s (Scott Cawthon, 2014) have contributed for YouTube, a platform characterized by a sense of community and engagement, to pick up the videogame and in turn, helped it become a popular transmedia phenomenon? On the one hand, the thesis aims to understands FNAF’s success by analyzing the videogame: How does FNAF’s gameplay constitute a horror experience that both draws on and moves away from common characteristics of the horror genre? And what do the different storytelling techniques contribute to the popularity of the FNAF franchise? On the other hand, the thesis discusses the role of YouTube as part of the game’s success by looking at how Let’s Plays and different forms of fans engagement have increased the popularity of the franchise. In short, my research approaches FNAF from two areas: the qualities of the game itself and how it invites players to engage as well as how YouTube as both a sharing platform and social medium has increased the game’s popularity.
This is not to downplay the effect the game has had on YouTube channels: in turn, the increased popularity of FNAF helped both larger and smaller YouTube channels to expand their following. The success is twofold. While FNAF provided suitable content in the form of horror, easy gameplay and complex storytelling, YouTube offered a space to do something with it: play, entertain, theorize, create. As audience’ behavior is unpredictable, the success of a media object cannot be guaranteed. Yet, FNAF demonstrates that so-called viral success consists of a working relationship between the characteristics of YouTube and characteristics of the media object itself. To describe the relationship between all components contributing to FNAF’s popularity, I argue that FNAF’s success can be understood as a media assemblage. It understands the transmedia franchise to be dependent on several components that are
mutually supportive of each other.
The thesis is based on textual analysis of the game, mainly the original FNAF, to understand how the game creates a horror experience through its gameplay and storytelling. Moreover, the arguments are grounded in several areas of research in order to critically engage with the findings from the analysis as well as to bring more insight in the affordances
5 of the YouTube platform.
In order to understand how FNAF constitutes a horror experience, I refer to
characteristics of the horror (film) genre and in what ways FNAF is either similar or different. While both films and videogames allow for fear to be experienced within a controlled setting and causes “fear and pleasure to commingle” (Bantinaki 386; Habel & Kooyman 3), Perron describes videogames as an individual experience rather than a collective one (Silent Hill 11). FNAF for example creates a more intense and personal experience by reducing the distance between character and player through a first-person perspective (Calleja in Pinchbeck 79; Perron Horror Video Games 121, 126).
Furthermore, the concept ‘body genre’ as discussed by Williams is used to demonstrate the way in which videogames both draw on and move away from film. The concept describes the relationship between the horror film and the body, both on-screen and the bodies of the audience off-screen. As the analysis of FNAF will demonstrate, the concept also applies to videogames. The game for example greatly relies on the use of jumpscares or ‘startle effect’ (Baird). Furthermore, I discuss the way FNAF creates the feeling of fear and suspense by using Freud’s description of the ‘uncanny’.
To expand on the argument, Perron argues that survival horror in videogames can be “defined as an extended body genre because the body of the gamer is not only ‘caught up in an involuntary mimicry of the emotion or sensation of the body or screen’ (…) it is also urged to act and feel through its presence, agency and embodiment in the fictional world” (Horror
Video Games 126). To understand the difference between film and videogames and the way in
which they create fear and suspense, many authors have highlighted the unique feature of interactivity: “At its most basic, the difference is that cinema spectators just watch (or cower), while gamers actively manipulate the action” (Chien 64). In effect, a different experience of fear and suspense is constituted: while horror films and videogames require a similar
receptive state, they do not lead to the same experience (Perron Silent Hill 11). In order to differentiate the horror experience created by FNAF from horror film and other horror games, I analyze the game according to its ‘agency mechanics’. Habel & Kooyman use this concept to understand several areas in which videogames allow or disallow player control. A similar argument is made by Krzywinska, who describes fear to be dependent on the interchange of being in control and being out of control (“Hands on Horror” 20). Krzywinska argues that “the interactive dimension of horror games enables a more acute experience of losing control than that achieved by most horror films” because “the player does have a sense of self-determination; when it is lost, the sense of pre-determination is enhanced by the relative
6 difference” (ibid.).
Besides gameplay, I look at how storytelling has contributed to FNAF’s success. Elsaesser describes complex narratives as stories that play tricks on either the character or the audience (13). Buckland adds that complex narratives “embrace nonlinearity, time loops, and fragmented spatio-temporal reality. These films blur the boundaries between different levels of reality, are riddled with gaps, deception, labyrinthine structures, ambiguity, and overt coincidences. They are populated with characters who are schizophrenic, lose their memory, are unreliable narrators, or are dead (but without us – or them – realizing)” (6). While
Buckland makes the argument for film, the same applies to complex narratives in videogames. In order to understand FNAF’s complex narrative, I distinguish three techniques for storytelling: layered, serialized and transmedia storytelling. The techniques are based on the following concepts and theories. Firstly, Barthes’ concept of the hermeneutic code is used to discuss how mystery is created in FNAF, as it describes “various (formal) terms by which an enigma be distinguished, suggested, formulated, held in suspense, and finally disclosed” (19). These are elements that reveal fragments of a mystery, creating suspense before disclosing the mystery fully. They are instable, fragmented and can be characterized as “flickers of
meaning” (ibid.). A related concept is Carroll’s description of ‘erotetic narratives’ which refers to complex stories drawing on posing questions and providing partial answers (130). As an effect, the feeling of expectation is created: “The concept of the question, as well, enables us to explain one of the most apparent audience responses to popular narratives: expectation. That is, the audience expects answers to the questions that the narrative saliently poses about its fictional world” (132). Lastly, Jenkins’ definition of transmedia storytelling is useful to understand how new layers of meaning are produced outside of the main games.: “A
transmedia story unfolds across multiple media platforms, with each text making a distinctive and valuable contribution to the whole” (96). The term furthermore emphasizes the role of interactivity, as transmedia stories rely on an audience actively engaging with the text.
In addition to videogame analysis, the thesis discusses how YouTube has contributed to FNAF’s success through different forms of (fan) engagement. Firstly, I look at Let’s Plays in which a person records himself playing a videogame while giving commentary. These videos are highly performative: “Let's Plays emphasize the constructed performance of live, spontaneous, and authentic subjective experiences through riffs showcasing a range of feelings and responses by video game players as they performatively make meaning of game play” (Nguyen n.p.). Let’s Plays share some similarity to the livestreams provided by Twitch. However, unlike Twitch, (not all) Let’s Plays are streamed live. While I do use literature that
7 discusses the livestreaming of videogames, as many aspects also apply to Let’s Plays, Let’s Plays usually provide merely the feeling of directness rather than actually being live.
Another difference between Twitch and YouTube Let’s Plays, is that the latter are centered on providing an entertaining experience to the audience rather than just a
walkthrough of the game (Glas 82, Smith et al. 135). Entertainment is provided through the added light-hearted or comedic commentary (Smith et al. 133). I refer to Hudson’s article to explain how videogames can lead to (slapstick) comedy. Furthermore, I discuss a sense of community as another key characteristic of Let’s Plays: “This reciprocal nature of the performer’s persona as the one driving the content as well as reacting to commenters to alter the content helps build a community around their LP broadcasts” (Smith et al. 135).
Videogames as a shared interest functions as the basis for a community to form around Let’s Plays (Strangelove 104, Harley and Fitzpatrick 687). In the thesis, I discuss how these
communities have added (social) benefits to the videogame experience (Sjöblom & Hamari 2, Hamilton et al. 1318).
In addition to Let’s Plays, I discuss other types of fan engagement from the
perspective of Bruns’ concept produsage. The term produsage seeks to define the new role of consumers in processes of “user-led content creation” and highlights that “within the
communities which engage in the collaborative creation and extension of information (…) the distinctions between producers and users of content have faded into comparative
insignificance” (2). Rather than consuming a finished product, produsers add to the
experience by liking, sharing, promoting and creating new points of entry (Jenkins, Green & Ford 184, 185). Fans have added ‘new points of entry’ by creating fan-made content such as films, games and music. Moreover, FNAF has stimulated its audiences to engage with its complex narrative. Both Jenkins and Janet Murray recognize the stimulation for audiences to engage as transmedia stories create a storyworld which fans are able to explore. FNAF’s storytelling universe is “substantially larger than the [games] itself, offering almost infinite material for fan discussions and debates – and thus ensuring ‘spreadable’ content across fan networks” (Jenkins, Green & Ford 132). Whatever the form, fan engagement has the potential to fuel success as it helps to spread the brand name, in turn potentially reaching new
audiences and generate greater (economic) value: “Every new viewer that these practices draw to the program could, in theory, translate into greater economic value (exchange) for media companies and advertisers” (123).
Roughly, the research thus falls apart in four different segments. The first half focuses on the qualities of the game itself. I start by discussing FNAF’s gameplay to bring more
8 insight to the way the game conveys horror, drawing on as well as moving away from
common characteristics of the horror genre. The second chapter discusses storytelling as another defining feature of FNAF. This chapter analyzes several storytelling techniques which are used to create mystery and motivate engagement.
The remaining chapters concentrate on the role of YouTube. Chapter 3 takes a closer look at Let’s Plays as a form of entertainment and as a means to establish community. I argue how FNAF’s way of conveying horror fits well within this format. The last chapter looks at YouTube as a platform for (fan) participation and discusses several ways in which fans have engaged with the FNAF franchise, such as theories about its lore as well as the creation of fan-made games and other types of media. Together, all these different perspectives form a coherent argument of how FNAF has constituted a complex transmedia assemblage.
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1. FNAF as a Survival Horror Videogame
The horror genre has a long history which traces back to early fiction and film. At its
foundation, the horror genre relies on basic notions of good versus evil, in which ‘evil’ poses a threat or disrupts the normative order (Krzywinska “Hands On Horror” 13, Pinedo 19). The disruption is often represented through an abnormal being – a monster in either a supernatural form or a deviant transformation from within (Pinedo 19). The plot features an attempt to restore initial order (ibid.).
Over the years, this structure has been re-imagined in a lot of different ways within different forms of media. Yet, the following characteristics have stayed consistent in the horror (film) genre: “1) There is a violent disruption of the everyday world, 2) There is a transgression and violation of boundaries, 3) The validity of rationality is thrown into
question and 4) There is no narrative closure” (Pinedo 20). The first three points apply to both the classical and postmodern horror film, yet may function differently in each (ibid.). The lack of narrative closure is specific to the postmodern horror film and could also be applied to FNAF, as will be discussed in chapter 2 (ibid.).
Lastly, Pinedo concludes that horror in general “produces a bounded experience of fear” (Pinedo 20). Indeed both film and videogames make it possible for the audience to experience terror within a safe setting (ibid.; Habel & Kooyman 3). Consequently, the use of techniques similar to those in film can be found in contemporary horror videogames (Habel & Kooyman 3). However, videogames are often described as more interactive, providing a more active and immersive experience compared to film partly due to their semi-private settings for consumption and more open-ended, expansive narrative trajectories (3, 4). In this chapter, I look more closely on how FNAF creates a horror experience. I aim to point out qualities unique to videogames and more specifically, the ways in which FNAF differentiates itself. Despite the game’s simplistic graphics and gameplay, the gameplay offers a different kind of experience that is new to the horror genre. Although FNAF shares common conventions of the horror genre, the game focuses less on narrative progression but rather on repetitive gameplay to create the feeling of fear and suspense.
1.1 Perspective
To start, while the use of a first-person perspective is avoided in film, it often creates a more personal and suspenseful experience in videogames. In FNAF, the player is positioned in the role of the protagonist by aligning the player’s eyes with the perspective on-screen. The player’s alignment with the protagonist is strengthened as not much is known about the
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Fig. 1 FNAF 2 view from behind the mask (above) and FNAF SL inside a springlock suit on night 4 (below)
character we’re playing. Except for a name1
, which does not seem particularly relevant whilst playing, any information concerning background, motivation or capabilities is unknown. The lack of a clear identity makes it possible for the gamer to identify more closely as the
protagonist, aligning the player’s and character’s experience.
Furthermore, the gameplay heavily focuses on the mechanic of ‘looking’ which emphasizes the idea of the player taking the role of the protagonist. As the player is unable to move, besides looking left or right, ‘looking’ is the only form of defense in the game. It is only through carefully watching the security cameras that the protagonist is able to escape and the player avoids jumpscares. In FNAF 1, the focus on eyes is shown through the game-over screen. ‘Game over’ implies that the character has been attacked by the animatronics, having been put forcefully into one of the suits. Though the game overall lacks gore images, the game-over screen shows a Freddy suit in the spare room with one blue eye popping out, serving as the only reminder that there is a human body inside. Other references to ‘looking’ and ‘eyes’ are made through shots that show the action from behind eye sockets. In FNAF 2, the player is reminded of the screen functioning as the player’s eyes as the only defense method is putting a Freddy mask on. Doing
this results in the player seeing the
animatronics through the two eye holes of the mask (Fig. 1). A similar case can be found in FNAF SL in which the player is placed inside of a ‘springlock’ suit on night 4, limiting the player’s view to the two eye holes of the mask (Fig. 1). Ultimately, the plot in FNAF SL revolves all around ‘the eyes’ as the last, anticipated cutscene shows the protagonist looking into the mirror (the first time players get an actual look at their character) to see two piercing, purple2 eyes staring back, hinting towards the protagonist’s fate. The repeated
1
Vagueness about the protagonist’s identity is a recurring theme. In FNAF 1, the player is assumed to play as ‘Mike Schmidt’ which is the name on the paycheck at the end of the week. In FNAF 2, the name on the paycheck is ‘Jeremy Fitzgerald’ until night 5. The extra nights are played as ‘Fritz Smith’. In FNAF SL, the protagonist is referred to as ‘Eggs Benedict’, whose name turns out to be ‘Michael’ or potentially ‘Mike’. 2 Within the franchise, the color purple functions as an important signifier of the antagonist as the supposed killer is referred to as ‘the Purple Guy’
11 use of eye-imagery emphasizes the focus on looking and the use of first-person perspective in FNAF, assisting the player to immerse him/herself into the fictional world.
The different use of perspective in videogames compared to the horror film is related more broadly to the experience each has to offer. Whereas both film and videogames require a similar receptive state of the spectator/gamer, it does not lead to the same experience (Perron
Silent Hill 11). Let’s first consider the similarities in film and videogames concerning their
‘receptive states’. Both film and videogames provide an experience of ‘recreational terror’ which in Pinedo’s definition includes “the element of control, the conviction that there is nothing to be afraid of turns stress/arousal (beating heart, dry mouth, panic grip) into a pleasurable sensation. Fear and pleasure commingle” (in Habel & Kooyman 3). Similarly, Bantinaki agrees with Smuts’ argument that “art provides a degree of safety not present in real-life situations that could arouse intense negative emotions and, second, the control that we usually enjoy in our encounter with fiction does not let the pain involved in such emotion pass a certain threshold (386). The element of control – being able to stop the experience at any time – allows the audience to possibly enjoy the negative emotions: the thrill (385).
To come back to Perron’s observation, even though both media require the same receptive state, they do not create a similar experience. Perron describes cinema as offering a more ‘collective’ experience as the spectator’s perspective is linked to an “invisible third-person party” through which they have either omniscient awareness or limited knowledge concerning a particular character or group of characters’ immediate experiences (Silent Hill 11; Habel & Kooyman 6). Most videogames3, on the other hand, reduce the plurality of viewpoints but enhance the intensity of identification (Habel & Kooyman 6). The videogame experience is a personal one, in which the space between the player and the action on-screen is mediated through the controller, reducing the space between body and screen: “(…) the solitary experience of the character mirrors the player’s experience, where both mind and body are engaged by the manipulation of the controller, from which emerge vibrations linked to the context of the game (heart poundings, physical pain). Here, one properly experiences the self” (Chauvin qtd. Silent Hill 11). Although I will consider videogames as a potential collective experience in chapter 3, in general videogames are associated playing alone in the dark, creating a immersive, personal experience. The reduced distance between player and character brings the action much closer to the player’s own body, creating the feeling of the monster attacking ‘you’ rather than the character on-screen (Calleja in Pinchbeck 79; Perron
3
Exceptions can be found. Heavy Rain (Quantic Dream, 2010) or Until Dawn (Supermassive Games, 2015) for example follows a more cinematic approach featuring perspectives from multiple characters
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Horror Video Games 121). A first-person perspective is not unique to FNAF, but it may allow
for a more intense experience of terror.
1.2 Suspense and Fear through Diegetic Elements
Besides perspective, there are more ways in which the horror genre creates feelings of fear and suspense. Historically, (horror) film has been associated with ‘the spectacle’ and being physically triggered. During the screening of the Lumière brothers’ first film, audiences were shocked at seeing a moving train.
Its origin [horror], indeed, is the origin of all moving pictures, going right back to the Lumière brothers' 1895 exhibition of A Train Entering a Station, a short documentary sequence to which early audiences reacted with a frenzy, ducking away from the seemingly onrushing train on the screen and fleeing the auditorium in fear. Of course, the Lumières' little film was not a horror film as we've come to know it, but it provoked fear and psychological unease in its audiences (who had not yet learned how to “look" at movies”, and that is precisely how the horror film has always functioned historically.
- David Bartholomew “The Horror Film” in The Political Companion to
American Film p. 205
In 1895, a screen featuring a huge, moving train provided sensation as it was never done before. Film provided its audience with a new kind of spectacle that differed from the theatre: “Unlike the theatrical startle (where sheer loudness can function much as it does in real space), the modern film-based startle relies heavily on precise manipulations of editing and camera position, neither of which are available to the stage play” (Baird 15). Film as
sensationalism still holds true in the horror genre in the form of death and violence: “Horror offers death as spectacle and actively promises transgression; it has the power to promote physical sensation (…)” (Krzywinska “Hands On Horror” 13). It evokes physical and emotional responses from the audience (Pinedo 27; Williams 4). The confrontation with violence and death is expected, which makes horror something the viewer voluntarily subjects himself to (Kawin 292).
In horror film, death and violence is closely related to the (human) body. In “Film Bodies”, Linda Williams considers horror, alongside pornography and melodrama, a genre
13 drawing on (bodily) excess. Especially postmodern horror films have moved from the ‘act of telling’ to the ‘act of showing’ in the form of the mutilated body (Pinedo 21; Brophy 8). Williams discusses several features of the body genre, from which I focus on the ones that describe the relationship between genre and the body on-screen. First there is “the spectacle of a body caught in the grip of intense sensation or emotion” (4). Another feature is a form of ecstasy (ibid.). Ecstatic excesses appear in the form of violence, blood and shudder (9). They are marked visually by an uncontrollable convulsion or spasm of the body and aurally through screams and nervous gasps (4; Pinedo 27). Besides an on-screen association with the body, these images of bodies undergoing terror does something to our own bodies off-screen, whether it’s fear, disgust or even (nervous) laughter. Indeed, a common effect is the mimicry of emotion in the audience to what is shown on-screen (Williams 4).
The body genre extends to videogames. Taking a less graphical approach, FNAF also brings the feeling of fear, shock and suspense to the player’s body. A key aspect of the game for example is its use of jumpscares. Jumpscares trace back to the startle effect in film. In 1942, the startle effect was used in the film Cat People (Lewton & Tourneur) in which a woman is followed by something on-screen left when a bus appears on-screen right (Baird 14). It has since also been referred to as ‘the bus effect’ and recurred countlessly in (horror) film (ibid.). According to Baird, the startle effect is created through the following elements: “A character presence, an implied off-screen threat and a disturbing intrusion (often
accentuated by a sound burst) into the character’s immediate space” (15). Our cognitive reaction can be explained as a “microsecond failings to predict (perceptually anticipate) the identity, location, or status of a stimulus in a threatening context” (16). It is related to our observations and expectations of locations, identities (e.g. “the living die, the dead move, the limb becomes a snake, the friend a murderer”) and objects (e.g. breaking, falling, coming to standstill) which turn out differently from the way we expected it to be (18). Similarly, the jumpscare in FNAF occurs when the player fails to predict the animatronics’ location
accurately. The jumpscare itself consists of a sudden, close-up appearance of the animatronic combined with a loud screeching sound which often catches the player by surprise.
While sudden surprises are one of the most basic techniques to achieve scares and a physical reaction, the effect is oftentimes considers a cheap method as it is relatively easy to achieve (Perron “Sign of A Threat” n.p.). Therefore, surprise is frequently combined with suspense (ibid.). In the following two paragraphs, I look at how the game is designed to evoke feelings of fear and suspense. I start by discussing how a suspenseful mood is created through the diegetic elements that make up the storyworld, such as the setting and characters.
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Fig. 2 The animatronics Bonnie, Freddy & Chica on stage (from left to right)
To start, the setting creates a suspenseful atmosphere through defamiliarization. In FNAF, the choice of setting - a children’s pizzeria with singing robots - does not immediately alert the player as something that should be feared. However, Freud describes the possibility of familiar objects or situations appearing to us as frightening which he defines as
‘unheimlich’ or ‘uncanny’ (Freud 2003). FNAF creates this feeling through the use of darkness, which defamiliarizes the player with the setting. While the restaurant setting
appears familiar, it is usually not a place visited during the night. Dark settings are commonly used in horror as darkness is associated with evil and things that should be feared. Darkness brings the gamer into the ‘wanted emotional state’: “A fearful mood puts us on emotional alert, and we patrol our environment searching for frightening objects. Fear makes us notice dark shadows, mysterious noises and sudden movements and thus provides more possibly frightening cues” (Smith qtd. “Sign of a Threat” n.p.). The dark puts us in a heightened state of alert, which gets intensified by not being able to see very well, making it more difficult to detect potential threats. While the restaurant setting is still recognizable, being there during the dark, creates an unsettling experience.
Similarly to the setting, animatronics used to entertain children are expected to be cute and harmless. The player may however experience the opposite (Fig. 2). The
animatronics are not necessarily scary in themselves. However, as they are commonly associated with predictable (programmed) behavior, seeing them move around by themselves counters our knowledge of their ‘natural’ behavior. Ruth Amossy identified three ways in which objects might be
experienced as fearful: “1) transgressions of normality and elementary laws of the physical known, 2) harmless objects that become scary only through an abnormal and strange
aggressive behavior and 3) objects already scary that undergo a hyberbolic processing” (qtd.
Silent Hill 14). The animatronics inherit characteristics from all of these categories as the
robots seem to have a mind of their own, move at random and attack the night security guard. Their unnatural, unexplained behavior is experienced as disturbing, as common expectations of ‘how robotic entities should work’ do not match up with reality.
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1.3 Suspense and Fear through Interactive Gameplay Design
Like the horror film, videogames thus aim to feelings of fear and suspense to the body of the player. However, besides spectating, videogames are able to create such feelings by offering an active role to the gamer (Chien 64; Hart 276; Krzywinska “Hands On Horror” 12). Agency in videogames refers to the amount of control the player has in the progress of the game narrative and can be defined as “the satisfying power to take meaningful action and see the result of our decisions and choices” (Murray 126). The added element of agency allows videogames to create a different, more intense experience of fear. Perron argues that while “cinema removes the body from the viewer” (Horror Video Games 121), survival horror in videogames can be “defined as an extended body genre because the body of the gamer is not only ‘caught up in an involuntary mimicry of the emotion or sensation of the body or screen’ (…) it is also urged to act and feel through its presence, agency and embodiment in the fictional world” (126).
Suspense and fear thus arises from player interaction with the game. However, like other elements in the game, interactivity should be thought of as a structured experience (Kirkland 170). Rather than offering complete control, videogames are designed to regulate player control through a combination of pre-determined and self-determined elements (Krzywinska “Hands on Horror” 13). According to Krzywinska, the interchange between being-in-control and being-out-of-control intensifies and extends “the emotional and affective experiences” that are offered by the horror film (ibid.). Drawing on Krzywinska’s theory, Habel and Kooyman refer to the elements managing control as ‘agency mechanics’ (1). Based on their article, I discuss several agency mechanics to demonstrate (the restriction of) agency in FNAF and how they create feelings of fear and suspense.
According to Krzywinska’s theory, “the interactive dimension of horror games enables a more acute experience of losing control than that achieved by most horror films” because “the player does have a sense of self-determination; when it is lost, the sense of
pre-determination is enhanced by the relative difference” (“Hands on Horror” 20). As soon as the little bit of control is lost, the player experiences an intense feeling of vulnerability. As the horror film is completely pre-determined, the spectator does not experience such an intense switch between being-in-control and being-out-of-control. In several videogames, clunky controls have added to this feeling of vulnerability: “While fixed camera angles, dodgy controls and clunky combat were seen as problematic in most games, the traditional survival horror took them as a positive boon (…) restricted cameras caused players to fear every step they took, while characters that couldn’t hold a gun steady encouraged players to flee rather
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Fig. 3 The office (left) and camera view (right) in the original FNAF
than fight” (Sterling qtd. Silent Hill 110). Bulky or clumsy controls add to the creation of a more “oppressive world” as it limits the character’s defense, making enemies more imposing and in effect, create a “greater sense of foreboding” (Kalogeropoulos in Roux-Girard 166). The point-and-click gameplay in FNAF can also be experienced as restricting, as it makes the player unable to move fast between left and right. This is merely one example of how FNAF makes use of the dual character of agency, as more agency mechanics can be identified.
Firstly, space both restricts and enables agency in FNAF. A common strategy to create agency and a sense of player choice is to offer large, fictional worlds for the player to
discover. A popular horror narrative demands players to escape from an unsettling, haunted place by finding clues in each area in order to move forward. Although the player’s path is still pre-determined, there is a degree of freedom in moving around and deciding what clues to follow up on, finding out more about the space as they go. In opposition, the fictional pizzeria in FNAF consists of a few rooms of which the security office functions as the main setting (Fig. 3). The player is not able to explore this room in any way except for viewing. Progress also does not result in new spaces or new perspectives on the rooms – it is the same setting throughout the whole game.
It should be added that ‘viewing’ as the main gameplay mechanic both restricts and enables control. Whereas curiosity often gets punished in the horror film, active looking and exploring is motivated in videogames: horror games are designed to compel players to investigate and overcome danger in order to uncover the full story (Krzywinska “Hands On Horror” 20). FNAF moves in-between as ‘looking’ is both punished and rewarded. The game demands the player to actively look at the security cameras to keep track of the monsters’ position. Not checking the cameras or the blind spots at the doors results in ‘game-over’. However, camera-watching can also be a disadvantage as a) it uses power and b) it enhances fear. Flipping through the cameras can be an extremely stressful experience as the player aims to locate the animatronics as fast as possible. Not being able to find them quickly
17 results in panic. Simultaneously, the sudden appearance of the animatronic on the camera may produce a startle effect as they sometimes appear closely on-screen (Fig. 4).
A third mechanic is the lack of weapons. When Amnesia: The Dark Descent (Frictional Games, 2010) came out, it distinguished itself from titles like Resident Evil (Capcom, 1996) and Silent Hill (Konami, 1999) through its increased vulnerability by not offering a weapon to the player. Its only option was to run and hide. Similarly, the protagonist in FNAF does not have any weapons to defend himself with. The only way to escape is watch the cameras in order to close the adjacent doors on time. Taking it a step further from
Amnesia, FNAF furthermore lacks the possibility to run. The point-and-click gameplay
prevents the player from moving at all. Rather than exploring rooms and running from monsters, the player has to escape the establishment from within the office, keeping the animatronics out. The restriction of movement as well as the lack of weapons massively increases the character’s vulnerability. While other horror games provide the option to run or fight, the only way to survive in FNAF is to act on time.
A fourth mechanic is resource management. Having to pay attention to factors that influence gameplay negatively, limits what one can do. The player has no choice but to follow up on these instructions to complete the game. In FNAF for example, using the cameras and closing the doors drain power. If completely empty, the doors will stay open for the
animatronics to come in (Fig. 5). Later games have complicated resource management with added tasks such as winding up a music box (FNAF 2) and rebooting the control systems (FNAF 3). The multiplicity of tasks must be completed on top of the main task of watching the cameras, which increases the feeling of stress on players during their gaming experience.
Related to these tasks is the mechanic of time. The tasks need to be performed in
Fig. 4 The animatronic ‘Bonnie’ appearing close on camera (left) and jumpscaring the player (right)
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Fig. 5 When the player runs out of power, the screen goes dark. After a while, Freddy’s jingle can be heard along with two glowing eyes as the player anxiously waits for the jumpscare
limited time, as taking too long results in a jumpscare. The intensity of the experience is fueled by “the player’s experience of hope (in relation to reaching a particular goal), second, the experience of fear (in relation to losing or failing in the game), and finally, the experience of uncertainty (what makes reaching the goals of the game uncertain)” (Järvinen 94). The added time pressure adds to the feeling of uncertainty as it
hinders the player’s ability to perform the task (ibid.). Time also plays a role in the form of a cycle. Each night takes 6 hours in fictional time, which are counted down in the corner of the screen. As the hours (and days) progress, the game’s difficulty increases. The countdown may intensify the player’s feeling of hope as s/he draw near to the goal. Simultaneously the fear of failing becomes more prominent as the game becomes significantly harder and the stakes become higher (losing means starting over at 12AM).
Another mechanic is the lack of knowledge concerning the animatronics’ behavior. Instead of being able to learn about how to defeat or avoid a monster, FNAF’s animatronics move at random and cannot be defeated. There is no specific strategy to survive each night. The player does have control over when to use the resources and for how long. Players have to become trained at finding an efficient way to use the cameras and doors without using too much power.
A last mechanic that complicates avoiding the mechanics is the graphical style and lighting. Although the first game does not mention a specific year, it is set before modern HD technologies. As the player has to use the security cameras to locate the animatronics, the images are a bit grainy. Furthermore, as the game takes place during nighttime, the rooms are poorly lit. This makes it more difficult for the player to detect potential danger.
All of the discussed factors restrain player control. The lack of control and options to defend oneself causes high vulnerability, making it difficult to keep control of the situation. The lack of agency in FNAF creates a heightened sense of ‘weakness’ or ‘defenselessness’. Compared to film, videogames are thus able to intensify the feeling of fear and suspense through the added element of agency.
In FNAF, feelings of fear and suspense arise from both the diegetic and interactive elements in the game which lead up to the inevitable shock. Especially the (active) role of the gamer provides for a more personal, intense horror experience. While in some horror games, a
19 monster may not appear for a longer period of time, the element of surprise is very evident in FNAF. Rather than exploration of the game world and its mysteries, FNAF’s gameplay is focused on creating the feeling of panic and paranoia. The gameplay demands that the player keeps track of many elements but concentrating too much on these tasks may also be a disadvantage. It creates a cycle in which the player tries to reduce fear by actively looking which decreases the power meter, creating more fear. There is a constant pressure to stay in control, even when the game makes it hard to keep control, because the player knows that mistakes are instantly punished by a jumpscare. Gaming pleasure derives from mastering the system within the unpredictable, fictional world: “A leading pleasure of games is that they provide an ordered, predictable system which affords players a multisensory, clearly demarcated affirmation of their skill, competency and autonomy, thereby providing a counterweight to an arbitrary, unpredictable and anxiety-inducing real world” (Krzywinska “Gaming’s Gaming Horror” 295). However, survival horror games do no offer the same form of mastery: “Survival means scraping through, simply to face yet another dire situation, rather than providing any clear signification of dominance, and moral distinctions are obscured” (296). In FNAF, players may become trained handling the different mechanics, but each night brings new challenges. The clock striking at 6AM offers a quick breath of air (a small reward) before the next night initiates.
This chapter discussed how, compared to the passive viewing practices of film,
videogames create immersion by giving the player a sense of control. Especially horror games rely on this sense of agency, as fear is created through the interchange of enabling and
restricting player control. FNAF in particular offers very little control in its gameplay, which can easily be lost, resulting in a tense experience. The gameplay differs from both other horror titles and film by offering a repetitive experience that is motivated by resource management and reaction time, rather than narrative progression. However, even though FNAF does not offer a linear narrative that unfolds over time, storytelling does play a large role in its success. The next chapter takes a closer look at its non-linear and fragmented narrative to explain how FNAF creates mystery and engages the audience through its storytelling.
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2. Storytelling in FNAF
Whereas gameplay is one way in which FNAF distinguishes itself, its storytelling techniques are another part of its success. Its story can be described as a complex (whodunit) narrative, which Elsaesser describes as stories that play tricks on either the character or the audience (13). Buckland adds that complex narratives “embrace nonlinearity, time loops, and
fragmented spatio-temporal reality” (6). Within complex narratives “the boundaries between different levels of reality, are riddled with gaps, deception, labyrinthine structures, ambiguity, and overt coincidences. They are populated with characters who are schizophrenic, lose their memory, are unreliable narrators, or are dead (but without us – or them – realizing)” (ibid.). Moreover, Elsaesser notes that the audience can get “passionately involved in the worlds” created: “They study the characters’ inner lives and back-stories and become experts in the minutiae of a scene, or adept at explaining the improbability of an event” (13). This aspect of complex stories returns in chapter 4.
According to Buckland, complexity is established on both the level of narration (storytelling) and narrative (story) (6). Although the narrative in videogames is mainly pre-determined, interactivity is offered in the form of discovering and interpreting story elements. To discuss complexity in FNAF, I therefore focus on the level of narration (storytelling) by distinguishing three different techniques that I refer to as layered, serial and transmedia storytelling. By analyzing storytelling techniques, I create a better understanding of how the game series works as a whole and how it guides players from one title to the next. The first technique focuses on the creation of complexity within each individual game through the use of different narrative layers. The second discusses the relationship between the main titles as bits of lore are spread out across the different games, motivating players to find connections that make up the complete, linear storyline. Lastly, transmedia storytelling explains how other types of media have extended the FNAF universe beyond the games, providing completely new takes on the story while simultaneously giving new insight in the lore of the main games. Rather than separate methods, the techniques work together and often overlap with each other.
2.1 Layered Storytelling
Before discussing how the narrative moves in between and beyond games, I discuss the relationship between the story and plot when considering the FNAF games as standalone titles. Each game consists of two layers of narration: the basic plot line and an underlying layer of narration which contains pieces of lore that relate to the more complicated overall story. While the plot in each game is relatively simple and straightforward, players are able to
21 dig deeper and find clues within each game that relate to the larger, overall lore.
To demonstrate, the story of the first FNAF game can be placed in the following structure:
a) previous security guard gets killed in his last week on the job while recording messages for his successor
b) newspaper excerpt informs the player about a job offer at local pizzeria c) protagonist starts his first week on the job
d) protagonist learns from the recorded message that the animatronics are left in ‘free-roaming mode’ at night and will attempt to attack (Night 1)
e) protagonist learns from the recorded message about an incident called ‘The Bite of ’87’ (Night 1)
f) protagonist learns from the recorded message that the previous guard got attacked (Night 4)
g) protagonist survives all five nights
h) protagonist receives paycheck/end of the game
The first FNAF game features a simple plot in which the game starts at event (b) from which the story continues to follow linearly (Buckland 2). In this simple structure, suspense is created by not including event (a). As the player’s knowledge is aligned with the protagonist, the player is merely able to speculate about this event though (f) (Branigan 75). Mystery thus arises as a result from the “the disparity of knowledge” which means that “narration comes into being when knowledge is unevenly distributed - when there is a disturbance or disruption in the field of knowledge” (66). The disturbance of knowledge is also recognized by Barthes’ hermeneutic code as part of the five codes existing in a narrative. The hermeneutic code includes “various (formal) terms by which an enigma be distinguished, suggested, formulated, held in suspense, and finally disclosed” (19). These are elements that reveal fragments of a mystery, creating suspense before disclosing the mystery fully. They are instable, fragmented and can be characterized as “flickers of meaning” (ibid.). In FNAF, (f) reveals information about (a) but only partial. It simultaneously raises more questions left unanswered: Which animatronic attacked the guard? Did he die? Why did he get attacked? Hermeneutic codes are furthermore characterized by multivalence and reversibility, as they refrain from (logic) structure and mainly function “to demonstrate that this field can be entered from any number of points, thereby making depth and secrecy problematic” (ibid).
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Fig.6 Changing newspaper clippings on the wall reveal bits of lore
The partial information leaves the story open to interpretation in which the players make up different conclusions from the information given.
In this example, the first layer of narration consists of events (b) to (h). The plot provides enough information to a player who is not invested in the FNAF lore. This kind of player does not care about the reason why the guard got attacked. Rather, (s)he has enough information knowing that ‘something’ strange is happening in the FNAF universe, and does not feel the need to investigate any further. The game has a closed ending, the protagonist survives, so why does it matter to speculate about (a)? However, as chapter 4 will
demonstrate, there are players who take pleasure in dissecting the full story. The hidden second layer consists of the story elements that are only revealed to investigative players. Besides the mystery created around (a), the game provides more ways which allows a player to delve deeper into the story.
Within the first game for example, there are changing elements in the setting e.g. the appearance of four different newspaper articles on the wall which inform of a police
investigation of missing children (Fig. 6), regular posters changing to drawings on crying children and the appearance of the text ‘it’s me’ (Fig. 7). These clues provide new ways of interpreting the story, helping the player to figure out the backstory, while simultaneously they provoke more questions. On the one hand, the newspaper clippings offer a motive for the restaurant being haunted: it suggests the possibility of the animatronics representing the missing children who are trying to take revenge on the killer and/or night guard (they may be the same person). On the other hand, the
events discussed in the articles seem unrelated to the plot of this game. Rather these events seem to play out in the second game, in which the Phone Guy mentions an ongoing investigation on night 4, leading to restaurant shutting down on night 6 because “someone used one of the suits”. From the newspaper clippings in the first game, the player can make up that the suit was used to lure the children. While the articles mention the suspect is a man, the phone call on night 5
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Fig. 7 The ‘east hall’ changes from original posters to the text ‘it’s me’ to posters of crying children
in FNAF 2 narrows the killer’s identity to one of the restaurant’s employees: “The building is on lockdown, no one is allowed in or out, y’know, especially concerning any previous
employees”. This example demonstrates that layered storytelling works together with FNAF’s serialized structure. While the appearance of the newspaper clippings is only vaguely related to the plot of the first game, it becomes more meaningful in relation to the other games, completing the pieces of the backstory. Story elements belonging to the second, narrative layer within each game, depend on players to be attentive and are not so much related to the individual game’s plot, but rather to the overall story. Players are able to take pleasure in finding the hidden clues and make connections between the games.
The layered structure is continued and complicated in the games following up the original. FNAF 2 introduced (‘death’) minigames which appear when the player fails. The screen turns into an Atari-style minigame, in which the player has to complete a task as one of the animatronics. In FNAF 2 and FNAF SL, the minigame(s) are generated at random. In
FNAF 3, the player triggers the minigames by clicking certain items. In both cases, it takes effort from the player to find and complete the minigames. Failure does not always result in a minigame. A
player will thus have to deliberately fail multiple times to unlock the minigames, especially as there are several in FNAF 2. Although the minigames in FNAF 3 are triggered less randomly, the actions that need to be performed in order to unlock them, are often not straightforward. The player has to pay attention in order to click certain items or posters suddenly appearing, and even put a code in a hidden number pad on the wall. The complexity stimulates players to revisit the
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Fig. 8 ‘Give Cake’ minigame reveals ‘Purple Guy’
games multiple times and perhaps even turn to the community to share knowledge (see chapter 4).
For lore-seeking players, the reward is large as the minigames contain important story elements. During the ‘Give Cake’ minigame in FNAF 2 for example, the killer is identified as ‘the Purple guy’ as the player witnesses the murder of child outside of the restaurant while giving cake to the children in a Freddy costume (Fig. 8). The minigame in FNAF SL reveals more about the faith of the little girl that the player hears speaking in between the nights. Moreover, minigames in FNAF 3 and FNAF SL have an extra function, as they do not only provide more information about the overall story, but they have to be completed successfully in order to get an extra ending. For fans of the gameplay, multiple endings add replay value. For lore-seeking players, the added endings complicate their work, as it takes extra work to find out how to unlock the other ending and it puts into question which (part of the) endings are canon to the series. Both FNAF 3 and FNAF SL feature a ‘real’ ending and a ‘fake’ ending. Even though the fake ending is officially not considered canon to the overall story, it sometimes includes hints about the game’s lore. In FNAF SL for example, completing the minigame unlocks ‘the private room’. This room refers to FNAF 4 in several different ways. When entering the code ‘1983’ on the keypad on the wall, the television screens suddenly reveal to be surveilling the house in which FNAF 4 takes place. Moreover, next to the
television screens, there is a Freddy plushie holding a walkie-talkie that resembles the stuffed bear that accompanies the child in FNAF 4. Although this ending is not canon to the series, this unlocked room seem to include clues that relate FNAF SL to FNAF 4.
Despite its simple design, FNAF is able to create different experiences. While the basic plot in itself may be enough to play through the game, players looking for the complete narrative experience are able to go into
depth. According to Hart, videogames are able to create personal experiences through engagement. Besides physical engagement, which refers to the use of the controller and the action on-screen, Hart mentions
intellectual engagement: “Making choices based on the information the game provides, and the outcomes of these choices [which] determine the shape of the gameplay
25 experience” (276; added brackets). When the player decides to actively search for narrative clues, their playing style and experience is different from a player who is merely interested in completing the games, as the former might be more invested in finding the minigames for example. Although games offer a pre-conceived experience, individual elements are subject to interpretation: “Most game elements are composed statically (…) videogame elements are perceived dynamically. The way a player perceives the music, visual elements or story—and the messages the player understands through these elements—are subject to constant
changes” (277). Each player is able to interpret the (story) elements differently: “The player's unique series of actions during gameplay evolves into an interpretation of the designers' complete, preconceived game experience” (273).
Thus, layered storytelling is able to satisfy different types of players. While the basic plot is enough for players to complete the game, the extra layer of narration brings more complexity to the game as well as new ways to interact with the game.
2.2 Serialized Storytelling
Serialized storytelling is a technique often used in television, in which a narrative plays out over a number of episodes (Hernández-Pérez & Rodríguez 42). Recently, several videogames including the horror game The Walking Dead (Telltale Games, 2012), have picked up on this episodic form of storytelling. FNAF has a similar structure, yet instead of episodes, the story unfolds over several games. Serialized storytelling allows for character development and longer, more complex narratives due to their lack of closure (Leavenworth n.p.). As FNAF does not have any recurring main characters, I will focus on the latter, more specifically how the serial narrative draws on a combination of expectation, mystery and interpretation.
Drawing from the previous paragraph, FNAF’s storyline works through raising questions and providing partial answers. Noël Carroll refers to stories based on
question/answer structures as erotetic narratives (130). Erotetic narratives work by generating questions, either by showing scenes, situations, and events early in the exposition which relate to later events (ibid.) or by showing an action but delay the outcome of this action (131)4. As an effect: “The concept of the question, as well, enables us to explain one of the most apparent audience responses to popular narratives: expectation. That is, the audience expects answers to the questions that the narrative saliently poses about its fictional world” (132).
4
Although not specified in his text, the former relates to the hermeneutic code and the latter to proairetic code as discussed by Barthes. In discussing FNAF, I mainly focus on hermeneutics.
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Fig. 9 Evidence for FNAF 4 being set in 1983 versus 1987
This concept also applies to FNAF. Carroll argues that suspense based on question/answer structures can arise from either micro-questions concerning a specific situation within the plot or macro-questions related to the overall storyline (136). As shown through the example of the newspaper articles, events that appear in one game, on a ‘micro’ level, often relate to the overall ‘macro’ story. It raises questions that are to be answered elsewhere in the franchise. The creation of expectation as an effect, I argue, plays a huge role in the success of FNAF. The lack of answers leaves the audience with a feeling of
expectation that is not fulfilled, motivating them to actively search for more clues as well as continue to play other games in the franchise. Rather than actions relating to later events, as Carroll discusses, FNAF complicates the narrative even more by spreading the timeline over different games in non-linear order. For players theorizing about FNAF’s lore, it becomes more difficult to piece the complete narrative together when they first have to figure out what the linear order of events is. FNAF complicates the timeline by a) not releasing the main games in chronological order and b) the events that appear within a game may relate to previous or later events in the timeline.
Firstly, players are for example most likely to conclude that FNAF 2 and FNAF 4 take place before FNAF 1. Such conclusions are not straightforward as players have to pay
attention to small, sometimes contradictory details. In FNAF 1, there is never a mention of time and place. Players are only informed about the mysterious ‘Bite of ‘87’ which presumably takes place before the events of the first game. When FNAF 2 came out, it was assumed to be a sequel to the first game,
especially since the same animatronics appear in withered form. However, the paycheck players receive at the end of the game clearly states the year 1987, which led many players to conclude the game is a prequel after all. While the order of
27 the trilogy was settled (FNAF 3 clearly took place in the future), the release of FNAF 4
fueled new debates around the timeline. The appearance of the date 1983 on a television screen led many to the conclusion that FNAF 4 takes place that year (Fig. 9). However, there are also strong hints for the game to refer to the ’87 incident as the child protagonist gets bitten by an animatronic at the end of the game (Fig. 9). These examples show how the storyline gets complicated through ambiguity over the timeline. To understand larger plot holes, players first have to figure out how the events in the different games are related to each other and in what order. Ambiguity motivates players to play each game in the series and perhaps even revisit some of the older ones, as the feeling of expectation is stretched: each new game in the series has the promise of offering new insights, while also creating more mystery.
Secondly, as the games consist of several layers, not all the story elements in the games are placed in chronological order. As discussed in the previous paragraph, the minigames in FNAF 2 do not necessarily relate to the plot of that game. The ‘Give Cake’ minigame is the first time the player learns about the killer. As the animatronics are already haunted in FNAF 2, this event must have occurred before this game takes place. Furthermore, the phone calls often include relevant information about earlier points in the timeline. In FNAF 2, the player learns about the original restaurant: “We are trying to contact the original restaurant owner. I think the name of the place was Fredbear’s Family Diner or something like that”. In FNAF 3, the recordings include instructions on how to use the company’s ‘springlock’ suits and proceeds to mention an accident concerning the suits on the following night. In FNAF SL, the player gets kidnapped by the antagonist and placed inside a suit: “Try not to wiggle. You are inside something that came from my old pizzeria”. Due to this
reference and mechanic of winding up ‘springlocks’, attentive players will recognize this suit as a springlock suit. For players knowing the suit’s history and vulnerability from FNAF 3, this scene causes extra tension. For players interested in the lore, the repeated mention of an old restaurant, adds new plot holes. As the ‘old restaurant’ is not covered by any of the current games, the FNAF narrative thus extends beyond the games. As an effect, more questions are added which players have proceeded to fill with their own interpretations.
In short, serialized storytelling draws on the feeling of expectation. By spreading bits of lore across the different games and extending the lore beyond the games, the FNAF
mystery been complicated. As the lack of answers is mainly met with more questions, players are motivated players to find more clues within each games and making connections between the games.
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2.3 Transmedia Storytelling
Besides a narrative relationship between the main games, other forms of media have extended FNAF’s universe by adding new stories. A storyworld spreading over multiple media
channels is defined by Henry Jenkins as a transmedia story: “A transmedia story unfolds across multiple media platforms, with each text making a distinctive and valuable contribution to the whole. In the ideal form of transmedia storytelling, each medium does what it does best (…)” (Convergence Culture 96). Besides the involvement of different media channels,
transmedia stories are characterized by complex storyworlds and audience engagement (Ciancia 43). Indeed, an important feature of transmedia storytelling, is creating a world that cannot be captured within one single medium (Convergence Culture 114). Klastrup and Tosca have listed the following components of transmedia worlds: Mythos is “the central knowledge one needs to have in order to interact with or interpret events in the world accordingly”; topos is “the setting of the world in a specific historical period and detailed geography”; and ethos includes “the explicit and implicit ethics of the world and (moral) index of behaviour” which refers to the way “the good and the bad behave, and what behaviour can be accepted as ‘in character’ or rejected as ‘out of character’ in that world” (12). These elements function to create consistency and recognition across the franchise (Roig in Scolari 47; Convergence
Culture 113). Besides a complex storyworld, audience engagement is a key characteristic of
transmedia stories. Because of their depth, transmedia stories motivate fan engagement and sustain loyalty (ibid.). The different ways in which fans have engaged with FNAF will be discussed in the following chapters. Although FNAF extends as a transmedia object to the website and the game files, this chapter focuses on how the spin-off game FNAF World and the novel The Silver Eyes fit into the lore of the main games.
Usually, the multiple stories or story segments all contribute to the larger narrative (Convergence Culture 95). This is the case with the main games. Its serial structure is part of transmedia storytelling (“Confessions of an Aca-Fan” n.p.). The spin-off stories on the other hand, seem to be separate entities parallel to the narrative told by the games. A statement on Steam by Cawthon describes the relationship between the novel and the games as the following:
The games and the books should be considered to be separate continuities, even if they do share many familiar elements. So yes, the book is canon, just as the games are. That doesn't mean that they are intended to fit together like two puzzle pieces.
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Fig. 10 The character ‘Fredbear’ in FNAF FNAF 4 (top) referenced in FNAF World (below)
[...] The book is a re-imagining of the Five Nights at Freddy's story, and if you go into it with that mindset, I think you will really enjoy it.
Rather than fitting FNAF’s transmedia world “like two puzzle pieces”, both the spin-off game and the novel are separate entities which share similarities to FNAF’s mythos, topos or ethos. The relationship between the main games and other forms of media is that these new,
seemingly unrelated stories, include references that tell us more about the universe established in the main games.
Despite FNAF World being another videogame, it provides a very different experience from the main titles, which is why I consider it part of transmedia storytelling. Although
FNAF World includes some horror references, it does not aim to constitute a horror
experience. Instead, FNAF World offers a meta perspective on the franchise. This meta view is created through satirical comments that break the fourth wall. One of the endings for example states: “Congratulations… You have beat an imaginary monster in an imaginary game, without taking any risks, and without finding anything interesting on the easiest
possible difficulty”. Indeed, some have interpreted FNAF World as simply a parody or joke. I want to focus on two more endings, which in my perspective, describe two different storylines in the game that demonstrate the meta level in FNAF World.
Following the basic plot in the game, the player learns from Freddy that “something bad is happening on the flipside”. In the game’s true ending, the player faces Scott Cawthon as the villain. After his defeat, the character states: “Was I REALLY the villain in your mind? I mean sure, this is one way of bringing the story to a halt, but surely there was a more satisfying end. I just do what is demanded of me! I fill your insatiable gullets with more and more and more (…)”. What does this mean? Instead of recreating the topos established in the main games, FNAF World takes a different
approach by suggesting its story takes place inside FNAF’s game files. The flipside can be interpreted as ‘the real world’, especially since the villain character clearly refers to Cawthon himself. The game, and
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Fig.10 In FNAF World (left), the player has to choose the correct code The same code appears in FNAF 3 (right)
creative struggles of the creator and experiences with criticism and pressure from fans. Thus,
FNAF World gave the game developer a voice to communicate to his audience about some of
the discourses surrounding the franchise. As chapter 4 will also discuss, communication between the developer and the audience is a key element in establishing FNAF as a transmedia franchise.
While the basic plot seems unrelated to the main games, another storyline appears to be more closely related to the main games. Freddy appears multiple times throughout the game and serves as a narrator and as a guide to the player. Whenever the player does not skip through the dialogue quickly enough, Freddy appears to be glitching into Fredbear, the plushie bear from FNAF 4 (Fig.10). The FNAF 4 reference is confirmed as the game starts with FNAF 4’s signature line “I will put you back together”. Fredbear tells the player: “You have to help him find his way. You have to leave breadcrumbs for him”. He then leads the player to hidden clocks, which contain a minigame. Each minigame makes a clear reference to the hints needed in FNAF 3 to unlock the minigames that result in the ‘good ending’ (Fig. 11).
What do these references mean for the overall storyline? In FNAF 4, Fredbear is suggested to be the person who tries to save the children from the Purple Guy. FNAF World is able to extend on this storyline as rather than fighting against the animatronics, the player plays as and works together with them. The ethos has changed: rather than the animatronics as scary and evil, they are friendly allies. Within the narrative “leaving breadcrumbs for him” can be interpreted as putting hints into the game files for the player to discover. Completing the minigames in FNAF World suggests that the player inserts the hints in the game files for the FNAF 3 player to solve. Through these hints, the good ending is unlocked: the children’s souls are set free.
