Two kids

> Dirk: Check systems.

Everything appears to be in order. You usually use a more reliable source of power, but from 12-6 AM you switch to a generator with a limited gas supply to keep things interesting. You’re not using a lot of power yet but things are just getting started. Beneath that is the current time: Time to play a game. 

> Dirk: Activate cameras.

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Cameras are no fun unless they’re hidden.Let’s be real here.

> Dirk: Check cameras.

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You toggle through the different camera views just because you can. 

> Dirk: Check CAM 1A already.

There they are. Your beautiful Murdermatronics. You built these things years ago after your pop cultural studies led you to a successful horror franchise. You played all seven games in one sitting, as well as several fanmade games. You found the premise and storyline intriguing and the animatronic characters quite endearing. Apparently, you are a minority in this respect as most humans at the time found the furry/puppet/robots terrifying. Weirdos. 

Anyway, you decided it would be a good idea to make your own. They’re pretty chill most of the day, but from 12AM to 6AM they enter Stalking Mode and wander around the apartment whenever the cameras aren’t looking. It’s a sweet game of red light/green light that keeps you on your toes. The key is to make sure they don’t get in your room, but if one manages to slip under the radar, it’s a grisly fight to the death. 

You have one more Murdermatronic, but he likes to stay tucked away in the crawlspace most of the time. 

> Jump ahead.

1 AM. 

Two of them are up and about. Where’d they go?

Not far. Look at them wandering around like they don’t got a clue where you are. They know damn well where you are and you know it. They know you know it. More importantly, you know they know you know they know. You programmed them to know that after all. They only pretend like they don’t know in order to try and mess with you. 

> Dirk: Check the crawlspace.

No change. Let’s hope it stays that way. 

> Jump ahead again.

3 AM and things are picking up. Snookems is chillin’ in the bathroom, and Chuck’s out getting some fresh air.

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Uh-oh, where’s the other one…?

Oh hell no. 

> Dirk: Quick! Close the door!

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Okay, but it’s your wardrobifier, not a door. 

Fuck off, Trapshot. 

> Dirk: Check systems again.

Of course keeping the wardrobifier shut leeches power like a starved vampire in a blood bank. Like a sparkly undead asshole that hasn’t fondled a good neck in months and suddenly found himself crotch deep in hemoglobin goodness, so he gets himself a straw and starts guzzling. Can’t keep it shut for too long. 

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Gone for now…

> Dirk: Check the crawlspace again.

Shit.

Yeah, there was pretty much no way that giant puppet wasn’t gonna come outta there at some point. 

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> Dirk: Shut the door again!!

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You shut your wardrobifier just in the nick of time. 

> Skip to the end.

Well fuck. 

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Chuck is being a particularly belligerent asshole right now. 

> Dirk: Run out of power.

Oh well.

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Can’t win ‘em all. 

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DIRK: Come at me, bro. 

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DIRK: I’m ready for you.

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Aw would you look at that. And you were ready to rumble too. At least you don’t have to worry about repairing any damage to them or yourself. Guess you better go make breakfast and shower now.