William Afton's Questionnaire

Well, I suppose I live in Hurricane, Utah. Not my Hurricane, mind you. The one I come from is... Better. Less drab than this place, at the very least. Considerably less terrorists and "meta-humans" too. No matter, it'll get more lively soon enough, once I have the means to set things back to the way they were meant to be.

As for now, I live in a 1970s Cadillac DeVille--lovingly provided in purple by whatever entity brought me to this place. It's not much, but it's better than living in shadows. All that's in here is what came with me from my world and what I've been able to find. I'll have to find a more permanent location soon enough, all in due time of course.

Still working on this. I arrived in this world with a bit of money that I (obviously) didn't have previously, a housewarming gift from the devil, I would assume. I managed to strike a deal with an associate of mine on my first job, so now I'm sitting comfortable with $50k. Haven't managed to find a stable source of income quite yet--hopefully I'll be able to pick up work as an animatronic engineer or technician. This new world seems much further behind technologically than the one I hail from--they're only now inventing robots that are able to barely move on their own! How laughable. On the bright side, that'll make it much easier for me to rise above the crowd.

As for where the money goes... Food and water. I'm trying to ration, only buying what I need. God, I miss being Springtrap. It was so much easier to get by when the only sustenance I needed was the agony coursing through my system. But alas, those days are over now. Naturally, all of this rationing isn't for piety or some sort of penance, I'm working towards something. A restaurant, that is. In spite of his idiocy, Scott Cawthon managed to grow the Fazbear brand into a worldwide phenomenon--doing all the hard marketing work for me. Once I swoop in and take the reigns from him, I'll be in the perfect position to open up a brand new Freddy's location. Of course, that'll take a lot of money, hence why I'm saving up.

What do I want? I want what is rightfully mine.

In my world, I was the brilliant inventor, founder, and owner of one Freddy Fazbear's--as well as it's associated brands: Circus Baby's, Fredbear's, and Afton Robotics. In my prime, I had a corporate empire right at my fingertips, and all of it was my design. I was a god amongst men, the best of the best! Nobody could do what I could! Not even my lousy successors, who took up the franchises but failed to bring anything new to the table, always going back to my work to find something new to pilfer and poach. Even after my business' decline and the Springlock failure that nailed its coffin, my work still rung through the annals of the future. I could've gone down in history had I willed my name to be known. But just like the mythological Prometheus, I was forgotten and left to rot, ripped to pieces time and time again, yet always managing to find my way back the very next day. Ah, but I'm getting sidetracked.

In this place, "William Afton" isn't real. Neither is Freddy's, nor Circus Baby's, nor anything else I created. My entire life has been chalked up to fiction, a confusing and muddy story told by some failed game developer who stole my everything through (what I can only assume to be) divine revelation at my expense. While I love the renown, respect, and fear that my name holds in the hearts of the masses, I am not content to be a mere fantasy. I am not content to let my legacy be a mere fantasy. I am not content to be known only as someone else's magnum opus. That is why I intend to take back what's mine. I am going to restore my ownership of the Fazbear brand and bring it to this new reality. How far will I go? I will not stop. Would I kill for it? With a smile on my face. How close to death would I come for it? I would give my own life... Not that "giving my life" holds much weight for someone like me. I've gotten in the habit of always coming back, and I don't intend to stop any time soon. I've died once already in this new world, after all.

Once Fazbear has been returned to its rightful owner, I suppose I'll begin my research on Remnant once more. Though I'm roughly 30 years and a whole world away from his death, I do hope to restore my son to life. Perhaps I'll see about bringing Elizabeth back as well, she seemed intent on rekindling last I saw her--or at least what she became. She'd make a fine successor to the empire I plan to build, now that I think about it... Ah, but I have more pressing matters to attend to. I'm still a long ways away from making this a reality.

Michael can stay rotting in Hell, for all I care.

Oh how could I ever pick just one? The founding of Freddy's, the fire I started at Fallfest, the Bite of '83, the first missing children's incident, my discovery of the hauntings, the murder of Charlotte Emily, the death of Elizabeth, my Springlocking, my first time seeing the outside world after becoming Springtrap, my reunion with Michael, the inferno that Henry prepared for me, my arrival in this new world, just to name a few. Any of those could be considered the most defining moment of my life...

But those are all known about and talked to death. The people in this world have written countless essays about my exploits and who I am. You don't want me to repeat that which you already know, don't you? You want something new, something you couldn't get from Game Theory. Fair enough, I am more than happy to provide.

When I was young--really young, I want to say four years old--my parents took me out to see a "singing bear show." I imagined a concert, a jamboree of beasts. I imagined a bear dancing on stage, whirling a microphone and striking poses, singing the greatest song that I had ever heard. I imagined his bandmates--bears in varying colours, plucking away on guitars, beating drums, howling the chorus. In my head, it was glorious, and I was jumping up and down in my seat for the entire car ride over.

When I arrived, however, that dream was shattered. There were no instruments, there was hardly even a stage. The bear didn't even sing, for god's sake! It just sat in a cage and growled whenever a mean-looking ringmaster shouted at it. My parents brought me home less than an hour after we arrived. I was so angry, so disappointed. The burn from that betrayal soothed only by the ice cream and later pizza that my parents bought for me that day.

As the years would go on, my anger would fade, but the memory of what could have been stuck around. I took that childish dream through high school and later university, until eventually I found myself with the opportunity to make it a reality. I expanded my dream to include a chicken, a fox, and a rabbit, hired on a few friends I had made in university, and bought out an abandoned building somewhere in Hurricane, Utah. After a few months of hard work, the wishes of my childhood self were realized, and I finally got to watch the singing bear show that I had once dreamed of.

I think that moment, watching Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy perform on stage for the very first time, was the most defining moment of my life. It proved to me that I could do anything I set my mind to. That no ambition of mine was too childish or impossible to achieve. That the only thing stopping a fantasy from being made real was the choice to let it stay a dream.

That lesson would stick with me for a long, long time, always at the root of every single thing I did.