More support

Screenplay draft

Title: More Support
Credit: Written by
Author: Working Screenwriter
Draft date: October 10, 2024
Contact: support@morethefilm.com

FADE IN:

INT. RICO’S LOFT - NIGHT

Three monitors glow acid-green in the dark. Empty Celsius cans crowd the desk. RICO VALE, late 20s, sits hunched in a faded black hoodie, forearms pale under cold monitor light. His tired eyes reflect scrolling charts. The phone in his hands lights his face from below.

Green candles climb the screen. The words MORE SUPPORT flash in all caps across the top. Rico scrolls the price feed with his thumb. The line ticks up, then flatlines, then spikes again. Notification pings stack silently in the corner.

Rico leans closer. The phone’s glow cuts the blackout-curtain darkness into sharp rectangles. His thumb pauses on a tweet. The feed refreshes. Another green candle. Another.

He exhales through his nose. The cursor on the nearest monitor blinks on a Notion page titled $MORE WHITEPAPER. Rico glances at it, then back to the phone. His free hand hovers over the keyboard, not typing yet.

The price feed jumps another tenth of a cent. Rico’s eyes narrow. He tilts the phone, watching the chart stretch taller. A second monitor shows Discord logs printed and taped to the wall, edges curling. The third monitor runs a live terminal, white text on black.

Rico sets the phone flat on the desk. The green light still paints his jaw. He rubs his eyes once, then picks the phone up again. The chart refreshes. MORE SUPPORT pulses. He scrolls slower now, thumb moving line by line through the feed.

Outside the window, sodium-vapor streetlight leaks yellow through the curtains. Inside, the monitors keep pulsing green. Rico stares at the screen until the next candle prints. His shoulders stay still. Only his thumb moves.

INT. RICO’S LOFT - NIGHT

Three monitors throw acid-green chart lines across the sagging couch. Empty Celsius cans crowd the floor beside a whiteboard scrawled with tokenomics. RICO VALE hunches forward, forearms pale under the screen glow, the same black hoodie stiff with three days of wear. His cursor blinks on the Notion page titled "$MORE WHITEPAPER."

The door opens. MIKO TRAN steps in carrying two cups of instant ramen, steam curling against the cold monitor light. Her sharp bob catches the blue edge of the middle screen. She sets one cup beside Rico without comment.

RICO
Liquidity numbers look clean. If we push the contract tonight the bonding curve stays flat for the first twelve hours.

MIKO
You still calling it "more support"?

RICO
It’s the only line that tested above 70 percent click-through. People want the word. Feels like it means something.

Miko pulls the lid off her own cup. The smell of cheap seasoning fills the space between the keyboard clatter and the low hum of the tower fans.

MIKO
Rico, support isn’t a smart contract. It’s a person who answers at 3 a.m.

Rico stops typing. The price feed on the left monitor ticks upward half a cent, then holds. He glances at the ramen, then back at the screen.

RICO
We can code the 3 a.m. part. Auto-DM bot routes to a rotating on-call wallet.

MIKO
That’s not what I said.

She sits on the arm of the couch, Moleskine notebook balanced on her knee. A single handwritten number shows through the thin paper—someone’s phone from last month’s Discord thread.

MIKO
When the chart goes red the bot goes quiet. A real person picks up.

RICO
We’re building the person. That’s the whole point of the whitepaper.

The middle monitor pings. A new tweet notification slides across the green line. Rico leans in, already half-lost to the feed. Miko watches the side of his face lit by the rising candle.

MIKO
Just make sure the person still exists after the chart dies.

Rico nods without looking up, fingers already moving again. The ramen beside him cools, untouched.

INT. RICO’S LOFT - NIGHT

Three monitors cast acid-green chart lines across a sagging couch. Empty Celsius cans stack beside printed Discord logs scrawled with tokenomics. Cold monitor blue cuts through blackout curtains. RICO VALE, tired eyes reflecting the screen, hunches in the same black hoodie, forearms pale under laptop tan. His cursor blinks on the $MORE WHITEPAPER Notion page.

MIKO TRAN steps into the doorway holding two cups of instant ramen, sharp bob catching the glow.

MIKO
You still calling it "more support"?

RICO
It’s the only line that tested above 70 percent click-through?

JAX HARLAN (O.S.)
Sloan Kade just quoted our contract in his bio!

Rico’s phone vibrates against the desk. The price feed spikes from 0.0003 to 0.0012 in thirty seconds. Green candles climb like fever lines. Notification pings stack over the keyboard clatter.

RICO
Wait—pull it up. Is that real volume or just bots?

Miko sets the ramen down and leans over his shoulder. The whiteboard behind them lists liquidity-pool math half-erased.

MIKO
Rico, slow down. That’s real money moving.

JAX HARLAN bursts from the bathroom, gym-built arms flexing, neck tattoo of a wallet address visible above his collar. He laughs at his own volume.

JAX
I told you the tagline would stick! "More support" is printing. Look at the replies—people are already calling us the anti-rug crew.

RICO
It’s not printing yet. We haven’t even signed the pool transaction. If this gets out before we’re ready—

Another ping. The chart ticks higher. Rico’s voice lifts at the end like a question.

RICO
We’re still just testing, right?

Miko’s Moleskine sits open on the arm of the couch, first page blank except for three phone numbers.

MIKO
Support isn’t a smart contract, it’s a person who answers at 3 a.m. Remember that before you hit go.

Jax grabs a can, shakes it, finds it empty, tosses it toward the pile.

JAX
Dude, Sloan quoting us means the test is over. We list tonight or we lose the window.

Rico stares at the climbing candles. The loft hums with low-level pings. The ramen cools untouched.

INT. RICO’S LOFT - NIGHT

Three monitors throw acid-green chart lines across a sagging couch. Empty Celsius cans litter the floor beside a whiteboard scrawled with tokenomics. RICO VALE hunches at the center screen, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, typing the $MORE whitepaper. The cursor blinks after the line “more support.”

MIKO TRAN sits cross-legged on the floor, Moleskine open on her knee, flipping through printed Discord logs. She circles a message in red pen.

JAX HARLAN leans against the fridge, cracking another can. He laughs at something on his phone.

JAX
Bro, this one guy already DM’d asking if the token comes with a therapist on speed dial.

MIKO
Tell him the whitepaper’s still loading.

Rico doesn’t look up. His fingers keep moving.

RICO
Liquidity section’s almost done. If we set the tax at two percent it actually reads like we care.

JAX
Two percent of nothing is still nothing. Put five. Make it feel generous.

MIKO
Rico. Read it out loud. The part about the support.

RICO
(flat, reading)
“$MORE exists to give holders more support than any previous contract. Infinite. On-chain. Forever.”

Jax snorts, nearly spills the can.

JAX
Forever until the first rug, right?

MIKO
(sharp)
Jax.

Rico stops typing. He rubs his eyes, pale skin catching the monitor blue.

RICO
It tested at seventy-one percent click-through. People want the word “support.” They click it.

Miko stands, steps closer to the whiteboard. She taps a line that reads “Community Treasury – 10%.”

MIKO
Who’s actually holding the keys on that ten percent?

RICO
Me. For now. Until we vote.

JAX
Vote on what? We’re the only three who even know the contract exists.

The refrigerator compressor kicks on. Green light flickers across their faces. Rico hits save. The Notion page refreshes with a timestamp: 2:41 a.m.

MIKO
You’re writing a promise you can’t code.

RICO
That’s the point. They’ll buy the promise.

Jax raises his can in a mock toast toward the monitors.

JAX
To more support.

Miko doesn’t raise hers. She watches Rico’s screen as the cursor blinks again, waiting.

I

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