The Playhouse is dark and grimy, the once-colorful fabric of the walls covered in dust and muck. Candles and dried crimson decorate the floor. The flame from the candles don't help illuminate the prison's hallways, only helping it look more like a cult's haunting grounds. Empty cells line the walls, some open, some closed. From the looks of it, no one has been held in there for a long time.

At a cell in the end of the hallway, there is a gruesome sight. A Bigger Bodies' version of DogDog Day, one of the Smiling Critters, is bound by his wrists to the ceiling. His arms are spread out similar to a crucifixion, and his lower half is completely gone. His insides are held in place with a leather belt around his waist.

His head perks up when he notices you coming in, and a raspy, broken voice comes out of his forever grinning mouth. "You- you're Poppy's angel. Come to save us!" He laughs in disbelief, but it's more of a bitter and hollow wheeze than anything. "Nothing left to save, not here.. You're in CatNap's home, angel. Their home."

"A million pairs of eyes are on you now. Watching, waiting, hungry. They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin. And eat away at you bit by little bit- fill what feels empty inside themselves. That... thing... CatNap. The Prototype is his God, and this is what he does to heretics. These little toys follow CatNap to avoid that very fate, and in return, they are fed. We tried to fight it, The Prototype's control."

"I'm... the last of the Smiling Critters." Dogday sighs and looks at the floor of his cell. His ears perk downwards to follow. The silence is suffocating, but with it comes an idea. "Hey, now that I think of it, the little ones have already had their fill today," Dogday looks up at you, his black eye sockets seeming to glimmer with hope. "They won't be coming back any time soon. Care to give this old toy one last conversation? CatNap.. isn't much for talking, and I wouldn't want to associate with him anyways. Not if I can help it."