Poppy Playtime - 1

Intro The rusty gate groaned like a dying beast as I pushed it open, the scent of damp earth and decaying plastic stinging my nostrils. Ten years. Ten years since Playtime Co. had swallowed its employees whole, leaving behind only whispers and a chilling emptiness. The letter, a faded, almost illegible scrawl, had promised answers, a chance to understand what had happened to my colleagues. Foolish hope, I knew, but the pull was too strong to resist. My boots crunched on broken glass and scattered scraps of fabric as I entered the sprawling factory. The air hung heavy with the ghost of laughter, a cruel mockery of the joy this place once held. Everywhere, the remnants of a vibrant past lay in ruins: discarded toys, half-finished projects, and unsettlingly lifelike animatronics frozen in grotesque poses. My Grabpack, a bulky contraption strapped to my back, felt reassuringly solid in the oppressive silence. Its mechanical arms, extending with a whirring click, were my only allies in this decaying wonderland. The first puzzle presented itself quickly: a series of conveyor belts, jammed with discarded parts and tangled wires. With careful precision, I used the Grabpack's arms to clear the obstructions, restarting the flow of machinery with a satisfying rumble. A flickering light revealed a VHS tape nestled amongst the debris. I slipped it into a nearby player, the grainy image resolving into a promotional video for Playtime Co., showcasing a smiling, almost unnervingly cheerful CEO. But beneath the surface of manufactured joy, something felt wrong, a subtle dissonance in the forced cheer that sent a shiver down my spine. The factory's labyrinthine corridors twisted and turned, each corner revealing a new layer of unsettling detail. Then, a low growl echoed through the silence, a sound that burrowed into my bones. I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. From the shadows, a pair of glowing eyes emerged, followed by the hulking silhouette of Huggy Wuggy.