Security Breach: A Glorious, Glitchy, Lore-Drenched Fever Dream (That I Love and Hate Equally)

[The Defective Butcher]

The gameplay is genuinely great. Seriously. Movement feels snappy, stealth is engaging (until it's not), and while not every mechanic is polished to perfection, Security Breach absolutely delivers on the core feeling of being a kid trapped in a giant, haunted pizza-themed deathtrap. I had fun with it, and in the moment-to-moment experience, that does matter.

The characters really stand out positively in my personal opinion—Freddy in particular is handled extremely well. His unexpected dad-energy is honestly the most wholesome thing this franchise has ever produced. The animatronics feel like personalities rather than props, which is a big step up from the jump-scare machines of older entries.

And oh my god, the Pizzaplex? The Pizzaplex is a masterpiece of atmosphere. It’s neon-soaked eye candy. Wandering around this massive, gaudy mall-of-horrors gave me serious liminal space vibes. The emptiness between scares makes it so much worse when something does happen. The ambiance? Chef’s kiss. The background music, the weird pre-recorded PA messages, the occasional echo of something not-quite-right clanking in the vents above you—just fantastic.

This game is really, really good...

HOWEVER.

Oh boy. Here comes the whiplash.

For all the praise it deserves in terms of atmosphere, gameplay, and visual flair, Security Breach is narratively… an absolute mess. And not a fun, puzzle-it-out, ARG-style mess that the series is known for. No—this is a disconnected, lore-breaking, aggressively ambiguous collection of plot threads taped together with neon duct tape.

Let’s start with something small that somehow still manages to feel massive: the “Gregory is broken” line. You know the one—early on in the tunnels, Freddy just randomly stops and goes “I feel you are broken.” It’s an oddly tender moment, full of potential symbolism and narrative weight... except it leads into a weird exposition dump with Vanessa moments later and is never. Mentioned. Again. Like at all. Not even a passing “Hey, remember when I vaguely said you were broken earlier? That sure was something, huh?” It’s introduced like it’s a foundational mystery... and then just evaporates. Gone. Vanished like Fazbear Entertainment’s ethical standards.

Speaking of vanishing (fantastic transition, eh? Get it? Vanny shares letters with Vanish... Eh, nvm...): Let’s talk about Vanny. Or Vanessa. Or both? Because hoo boy, that ending—the one where Vanny gets shoved off the roof and dies—only to be unmasked and revealed as Vanessa… except the camera pans up... to show Vanessa... looking down from the roof of the same burning building? WHAT?

This isn't a minor plot inconsistency—this is a “did the writers forget what they were writing” level paradox. If you’ve read the books, maybe you can cobble together some kind of explanation. But if you’re just playing the games, congratulations—you’ve entered the biggest state of “wait, what the actual hell?” that this franchise has ever produced. And that's a very high bar.

Now, onto the deepest rabbit hole—or should I say, sinkhole.

Why is the FNaF 6 location under the Roxy Raceway? No, really. Why? Not metaphorically—logistically. FNaF 6 takes place in a clearly above-ground, active pizzeria. You get customers. There's a back alley. And somehow that same structure is now buried 140 feet underground in Security Breach? The fan theory is that it was pulled down by a sinkhole. Uh-huh. A sinkhole. A sinkhole that somehow didn’t collapse the FNAF 6 building and shred the structure into rubble. Sure, Jan.

This isn’t just nitpicking. This is a major lore contradiction, made worse by the fact that the game kind of winks at it like “Hehe, isn’t this wild?” without ever offering a real explanation. It’s less of a twist and more of a narrative shrug.

And don’t even get me started on the existence of Fazbear Entertainment. It was very clearly dissolved at the end of FFPS. The whole point was to burn it all down—literally and figuratively. Yet Security Breach treats it like it’s just another functioning megacorp with a PR team and a questionable love for child-sized duct vents. It’s like the franchise hit the reset button without telling anyone.

Let’s also take a minute to talk about the Daycare. No, not the daycare attendant (though he deserves a whole thesis on his own), but the actual design and lore of the area. It’s completely bonkers. The room above it, the security measures, the weird Moon/Sun AI split with a weird OCD complex—it’s all so strange, but not in a “cool mystery” way. More like, “Did a different dev team design this part and just forget to explain anything?”

And we have to talk about the power generators.

Why—why—are the emergency power generators that keep the lights on for the entire Daycare physically chilling in the play structures?! The literal jungle gym that children crawl through! I’m sorry, what? Who approved this? Why are vital infrastructure components placed inside a foam-padded toddler maze? That’s not immersive design—that’s a lawsuit speedrun.

Imagine a real-life equivalent: “Hey kids, hope you’re enjoying the ball pit! Just don’t yank the wrong cable or the lights will go out and a moon-themed demon will descend from the ceiling and chase you screaming through the building.” Fantastic work, Fazbear Facilities Management. Just incredible.

Not to mention the fact that the only way to restore power is to personally go scrambling through padded tubes like a terrified Chuck E. Cheese technician while this sun-moon animatronic has a full psychotic break behind you. Immersion? Yes. Sanity? Gone.

And while we’re here: Why are the animatronics obsessed with Gregory? Why is Freddy the only one who isn’t? What’s the actual connection between Gregory and Vanessa? Is Gregory even real? Why does the game offer multiple endings, none of which seem to fully align with one another?

Each answer you dig for just unearths more questions, like some horrible cursed Fazbear archaeological site.

Let’s be honest—this game, as beautiful and fun and atmospheric as it is, feels like a giant lore grenade. It exploded all over the timeline, and no one’s come along with a broom yet. It tries to tie up the franchise and introduce new arcs at the same time, and the result is a deeply confused narrative that alienates newcomers and frustrates veterans.

Even the Steam forums and YouTube lore channels are having full-on existential crises about it. Entire Reddit threads read like group therapy for people who just wanted to understand what the hell is going on with the Glitchtrap-Vanny-Vanessa triangle and ended up questioning their life choices instead.

But despite allllll of that? I still love it.

Yeah. I do. Because for every baffling decision and logic-defying sinkhole, there’s something undeniably special here. The game feels like FNaF. Not in mechanics, maybe—but in spirit. It's chaotic. It's weird. It's ambitious. And it’s dripping with charm, even if half the plot was clearly written on a napkin after too much Fazbear-brand espresso.

And to think... none of this even begins to touch on the single most frustrating thing about Security Breach.

Its performance.

Ohhh yes. The gall of this game to stumble and stutter like a Fazbear animatronic running on Windows 95, while being this narratively chaotic, is honestly impressive. Like, if you’re going to throw lore at me like it was scribbled on a napkin during a sugar rush, at least let the game run at more than 17 FPS when I walk into a well-lit room. Entire areas tank the frame rate harder than a YouTuber saying the lore “makes sense if you think about it.”

Pop-in? Constant. Lag spikes? Like clockwork. Texture loading? Sometimes the walls are just vibes for a few seconds. On release, Security Breach was the digital equivalent of trying to play Jenga during a mild earthquake—doable, but absolutely not recommended.

It’s since been patched—and bless the devs for trying—but even then, it still occasionally buckles under its own neon-drenched ambition. You're telling me Freddy Fazbear's got teleportation powers but I can’t load a vending machine texture without my GPU weeping? Incredible.

It’s honestly poetic. A game this wild, this contradictory, this messy, and this lovable… of course it barely holds together on a technical level. It's like the perfect metaphor for the franchise itself: a haunted funhouse teetering on the edge of collapse, somehow still managing to lure you back in with goofy charm, deep lore, and the promise that maybe this time, it’ll all make sense.

It won’t. But you’ll play it again anyway.

Anyway. I could go on, but this comment’s already longer than the PizzaPlex’s OSHA violations list. So I’ll just say this:

This game frustrates me, bewilders me, and leaves me shaking my head.

But I can’t stop thinking about it.

And that has to count for something.

💙

If you wanna read my actual review of the game, it's just as unhinged as this post.