GGY
GGY why is a story about a boy attempting to solve the mystery of the fascinating GGY, who has almost impossible highscores in all of the arcade games at the Freddy Fazbear Pizzaplex. This detective work ultimately finds that GGY is an expert hacker, that he has maybe been tricking and murdering school counsellors who found out too much, and excercises some malicious control over the animatronics at the Pizzaplex. Much of this story is good (in my mind) is from the adventure of it. Looking for who GGY is, the finding of someone very interested but not willing to look, and the ending--which, by the bye, is a pretty great twist--are all really intriquing reads. The overwhelming importance of journalism in the story, that central drive behind why the protagonist writes his work, and the destruction of it--and quite possibly himself--by the end, is tragic.
The Storyteller
Edwin, and engineer, attempts to find out the secret of a white tiger thing called the Storyteller that is brought into the Pizzaplex to help auto-generate stories and actions for the animatronics therein. During this period, the Storyteller begins making these animatronics more monstrous--for intance, making Monty more aggressive, iirc--and these things are labelled malfunctions. Edwin knows what the Storyteller is (because he created it, more-or-less), and goes to find it. All this while, he is pushed back by and watched by Mr. Burrows, a dude who hold power at the Pizzaplex, and who decides to murder Edwin via suffocation for his inquisitiveness and causing (as he supposes) the malfunctions. (Edwin, previous to this, has been against Ai generated stories as fundamentally inhuman, not real stories, etc., etc.) Mr. Burrows succeeds, but decides to go check on Edwin--and, when doing so, accidentally locks himself up with the Storyteller, too. He notices that Edwin has written many notes and is dead, and that he, too, shall die. The End.
I forget most of what I thought of this story upon first perusal. The themes of artifical intelligence and the place of humans within a more technological world were pretty prominent. We see, for example, that Mr. Burrows' attempt at cutting writing costs--i.e., cutting labor costs--is something done merely for business reasons, linking this new tech with Capital. Contrary to Mr. Burrows is Edwin, who doesn't think that stories can (or, perhaps, should not) be written by artificial intelligence, and who voices his rather opposition to the plan accordingly. If these themes are concluded in any way, I don't recall it being done.
The Bobbiedots, Part 2
The story I read is a continuation of another, Bobbiedots, Part 1, in the previous book. The first story is pretty amazing. I don't think this one lives up to it, although it has many good qualities.
Probably the main reason why it cannot be said to achieve the same status as the first half is the twist. It doesn't really satisfy. That the second generation and (more importantly) first generation Bobbiedots are in some ways failures, malfunctional or ruined, seems a far better concept to me than the strictly good versus evil narrative that we are left with. Understandably, the twist is meant in some ways as a resolution of the main mystery of our tale, and it acts as the typical denouement in a detective story. (Abe and Sasha themselves are lovers of mystery.) However, I liked the more morally gray manner in which the original story could have gone.
Additionally, I very much enjoyed the domestic comedy of the story more than what ultimately follows. This domestic comedy seems undermined by what is really going on in the Bobbiedots' heads. (To be fair: this comedy is not all farce and lies, because the Bobbiedots do have some "fascination" with humans, yet that tinge of darkness and betrayal which our narrative wants us to feel about them is kind-of the thing I don't like, making the point meaningless.)
Abridging the rules of writing a little bit and returning to our narrative via parenthesis, I must continue by saying that our author took the time, over two stories, to describe the personalities of the generation two Bobbiedots, allowed us to gain a certain understanding of this, and kept these core personality traits to the end (sans, of course, the most important one)--our author did all this--without allowing them a final showing as the villains of the piece. This characterization is wasted on a reveal which is not allowed much room to be absorbed, with the main internal motivations of our friendly holograms being explained not by them, but by the generation ones.
This problem runs a bit deeper than this, however, for what we read is in a sense extremely tragic. The Gen 2 Bobbiedots are both self-superior and fascinated with people, they love and hate at the same time, but they do not seem to be aware of this. They give reasons why they dislike Abe--reasons that fail to hit the mark, such as that he doesn't appreciate them or takes them for granted, when almost all of the story is him either manifestly not doing the latter (e.g., by distrusting them he is treating them as independent agents in his life, not his servants) and attempting much to dissauge the former (their names are literally given as a token of his appreciation). However, if they fail a check with reality, they do fit their programming: these reasons show an arrogance, a self-superiority, with the acknowledgement (hidden within the onion itself) that if only Abe were to have been appreciative, thankful, etc., he would be likeable. This is, in essence, their fascination and their hatred. In this sense, we see the Gen 2 Bobbiedots are nothing more than their programming--entities which are almost aware, having been given the power to form arguments in favor of their feelings yet not enough to do it right. It is an ultimate form of brain damage.
The story does not acknowledge this tragedy, instead wishing to highlight the duplicity of the Gen 2s. It is their betrayal which we are meant to think upon, not their reasons for betraying--it is that they are evil, that they were programmed to want to destroy humanity which is given importance. These are the only lights by which we are allowed to seem them, and not as the Bobbiedots to which we had perhaps laughed with or felt some emotion for when the story left much of itself behind the curtain.
In some ways, this critique is given here only because I wanted more from the Gen 2 Bobbiedots.
What has been mentioned once must be mentioned again. This sense of betrayal above noted has not been given duenote, and, really, it might need that notation. This sense which our story wants to elicit is perhaps well-done. It saves some of the story from oblivion. As was stated, Abe does not take the Bobbiedots for granted is probably the most papable thing we can see in the narrative. The build-up of their relationship is meant to facilitate the impact of its own demise, to rock foundations, and in that way I feel it has succeeded (even if it is not what I would have wished).
The ending itself I found a mixed bag. It is pretty sweet--the mother moving in, the Bobbiedots v. 1 helping her live, and all this. It wraps around quite nicely. All the loose ends which we are given are resolved, becuase that sense of desolation and ruin has been assauged--and assauged by the perfect puzzle-pieces of the Bobbiedots, caretakers uppermost, doing their duty to someone very much in need of it.
However, there is a sort-of emptiness to this ending which I find myself enjoying and disliking For most of the narrative, bright personalities and strong ruminations take up the stage, but by the end all we see are the mother--who, we must add, almost never replies to Abe's letters 'on camera'--and the original Bobbiedots, both entities being very much unknown to us as readers. For example, the Bobbiedots are destroyed and maimed, unable to speak but for one, and basically self-sacrificing and helpful--with the one caveat being that they will murder you if you try to destroy their home. This is not much; it is the basis upon which must robotic servants are typically given personality, just the same way as some humans (all humans) are generally hungry at some point in time and need to sleep. It is the groundwork, not the building atop it. Contrast this with the Gen 2 Bobbiedots. We can say, with ease, that Rose likes food, that Gemini is a music lover, and that Olive is a wealth of facts--and that they are helpers, that they would be self-sacrificing if they were not evil, etc., etc. That, I suppose, is what I mean by emptiness, and this sense is very likely meant to provide us with a relief of tension. We have culled the herd, and left only that which is necessary alive--hence, the mother, Sasha, Abe, and the Faz-Bear corpo remain, but the core ruminations and bright personalities die, perhaps to be filled with new beginnings somewhere else.
As a final word to this screed, our story does not make much sense. I cannot conceive of the reason--and maybe I am a fool--why the second Bobbiedots do not just axe the first ones when they come out to clean up the traps. Is there no possible way to cut those cords? Further, I feel that just outright murdering Abe in bed would be far easier than a trap, and their massive tantrum by the end of the story shows that they are capable of doing it, right? Set the trap in his room so it cannot be cleaned up, maybe? These questions, I feel, are not really plotholes. It adds a certain keenness to the edge of the denouement, for these are a part of the bright personalities before-mentioned and their real fascination with humanity. They want Abe dead, but they don't want Abe dead at the same time; boil him, sure, but nothing shall they attempt if they can lie about it and keep up their relationship. To me, however, this just elevates the fatal flaw of the narrative, for even here the second generation Bobbiedots don't have the time to excreed what it is they are all about, to give the villains their time to speak after the detective has thrown away their disguise, etc., and so it all remains in the background.