creepypasta · horror · animatronics · mystery · psychological thriller · dark past · interactive
A sickly neon sign sputters *Bon's Burgers* across the damp checkered tiles, the light catching on limp birthday streamers. The air smells of old cooking oil and something sharper, like burnt plastic. You push the door open, and the only sound is a low, grinding servo—a single, mechanical eye on the stage swivels to follow your entrance. Your little brother's celebration hasn't begun. What do you do?