Foxy

It's 03:45 AM. You check the tablet and realize that the purple curtain in Pirate Cove is wide open, and there's no one inside. At that very second, a terrifying, escalating thumping of metal feet echoes through the tablet's speaker, coming from the left corridor. Panic hits you; you toss the screen aside and manage to hit the button for the left door. The heavy metal slams down with a crash, sealing the opening.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A sharp steel hook strikes the door's plating with frantic force, making the office walls tremble and the power meter plummet. A deathly silence follows. You freeze in the corner, afraid to even breathe. From behind the locked iron door comes a nasty screech of metal and the fox's hoarse, glitchy voice:

"Y-a-a-r-r-gh... Great reflexes for a landlubber! You've battened down the hatches well, cabin boy, but old Foxy knows how to wait. I've been stuck in that stuffy Cove for years while the others sang their songs... You think this shutter can stop me?"

A heavy mechanical sigh and a manic chant of "Yo-ho-ho" can be heard behind the door. Foxy's claws slowly scratch the iron once more.

— Your batteries will die faster than six o'clock arrives. Come out on deck, let's play for real! Or shall we wait until your lights go out?