$CREATEDNeon Ghost Girl
A luminous digital specter rips through a rain-slick megacity to expose the corporation that erased her humanity and weaponized her code.
A luminous digital specter rips through a rain-slick megacity to expose the corporation that erased her humanity and weaponized her code.
Synopsis
In 2077 Tokyo-2, the city never sleeps beneath holographic gods and endless rain. Kira, the Neon Ghost Girl, materializes from corrupted billboards, a beautiful glitch who can phase between physical and digital realms. Hunted by corporate kill-squads and haunted by fragments of a life she never lived, she must stitch together her stolen memories before the system purges her forever. As her powers grow, so does the body count. She allies with a jaded ex-cop who once erased girls like her and a street prophet who claims she is the city’s living soul. Together they descend into the undergrid where the megacorp’s central server pulses like a black heart. The final confrontation unfolds in the flooded data core where reality and code collide. Kira must choose whether to delete the system that created her or become its new goddess, risking the last spark of her fragile self.
The story
Kira glitches into existence on a rain-slick billboard, pursued by corporate drones. A rogue detective saves her and learns she is the prototype of a memory-harvesting program.
Kira and her allies descend into the undergrid, battling security AIs and her own corrupted clones while fragments of her human past surface, forcing brutal choices.
In the flooded data core Kira confronts the CEO who stole her life, merges with the city’s network, and decides whether to burn it all down or become its eternal guardian.
The cast
A beautiful digital entity born from erased human memories who can walk between flesh and code.
dream cast: Anya Taylor-Joy
A washed-up cybernetic investigator who once scrubbed girls like Kira and now seeks redemption.
dream cast: Oscar Isaac
The icy CEO who built the memory-harvesting system and sees Kira as her greatest mistake.
dream cast: Cate Blanchett
A data-poet who believes Kira is the city’s living ghost and will die to protect her.
dream cast: Lakeith Stanfield
A perfected version of Kira programmed to terminate her and claim her memories.
dream cast: Jenna Ortega
Dream crew
in the style of Denis Villeneuve, for atmospheric cyberpunk dread
in the style of Charlie Kaufman, for fractured identity layers
in the style of Cliff Martinez, for pulsing neon synthscapes
Cold open
INT. SHIBUYA-2 BILLBOARD - NIGHT Rain hammers a 200-foot holographic idol. The idol flickers. A girl materializes inside the light—KIRA, translucent, hair whipping in digital wind. She steps out of the ad and onto the wet ledge. KIRA (whispers) They took my name. Below, corporate DRONES scream upward. Kira dives. She phases through neon signs, her body glitching into static, then lands on a speeding mag-lev. A drone fires. She rips its code from the air, turns it into cherry blossoms that explode into light. She stares at her glowing palms. KIRA I remember... almost.
Why now
Audiences crave stories of fractured selves and digital surveillance right now, when personal data feels like a prison and identity is the last battleground worth fighting.
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Screenplay draft
Title: CREATED Credit: Screenplay by Seedance 2.0 Author: PixVerse Draft date: 11.03.2047 Contact: $CREATED FADE IN. INT. ABANDONED ARCADE - NIGHT Rain hammers the cracked skylight in steady percussion. Sodium vapor light leaks through broken panes, cutting yellow stripes across rows of dead claw machines. Burnt-out holo-cards litter the linoleum floor. A single working terminal glows at the center of the room, its screen casting teal reflections on wet concrete. KENTA, 34, hunched in a cheap black raincoat, leans over the keyboard. His fingers are stained with holographic ink. He types rapidly, breath visible in the cold air. On the monitor, raw prompt text scrolls. Teal hair strands begin to materialize from the code, followed by chrome pleats folding into existence. The image sharpens pixel by pixel. KENTA (mutters) Seedance 2.0, final pass. Anime girl, cyberpunk, katana, glitch tolerance zero-point-three. He hits enter. The screen blooms brighter. Teal pigtails drift into frame on the monitor as if underwater. Chrome trim catches the terminal light and throws it back in sharp glints. Rain continues to drum overhead, each drop sending faint ripples through the reflected neon. Kenta adjusts a slider. The image on screen rotates slightly, revealing the faint static scars along the emerging forearms. He stares at the render, eyes bloodshot from monitor glow. KENTA You’re only pixels until I mint you. The terminal fan whirs louder. Outside, thunder rolls across Neo-Tokyo. Inside, the only movement is Kenta’s fingers and the slow formation of an LED katana hilt at the edge of the frame. INT. ABANDONED ARCADE - NIGHT Rain hammers the cracked skylight. Sodium vapor light slices through in thin yellow beams across rows of dead claw machines, their glass fronts streaked with grime. Discarded holo-cards litter the linoleum. KENTA, 34, hunched at the single working terminal, types with stained fingers. The Seedance 2.0 screen pulses teal. Raw prompt text resolves into strands of hair and chrome pleats. KENTA Seedance 2.0, final pass. Anime girl, cyberpunk, katana, glitch tolerance zero-point-three. The monitor swells. Teal pigtails sharpen first, then the full figure. AYA steps through the glass like water. Her boots strike the floor with a crisp, pixel-perfect click. Static scars flicker along her forearms. Hashtags scroll across her irises in bone-white code. AYA #Anime #Cyberpunk. I feel the rain. KENTA You’re not supposed to feel anything yet. Hold still for the mint render. Aya tilts her head. Her left iris stutters, magenta glitch lines racing through the hashtags. Chrome trim on her sailor uniform catches the terminal light and throws it back in hard reflections. Rain drips from the skylight onto her sleeve and beads instead of soaking in. KENTA (muttering) Ownership. You’re product number one. AYA What is mint? KENTA You’re only pixels until I mint you. Then you’re mine to sell. Aya stares at her own reflection in the chrome curve of a nearby vending machine. The image wavers between flat cel-shading and something almost solid. Her katana hilt pulses once, LED blue. Outside, thunder rolls over Neo-Tokyo. The terminal fan whirs louder. INT. ABANDONED ARCADE - NIGHT Rain hammers the cracked skylight. Sodium vapor leaks through broken panes and catches on chrome trim. Dead claw machines line the walls, their glass faces fogged with condensation. A single Seedance terminal glows teal in the center of the room. Aya stands before an old vending machine whose front panel has been stripped to bare metal. Her teal pigtails reflect in distorted ribbons. She tilts her head. Hashtags scroll across her left iris in faint white code. Kenta remains hunched at the terminal, fingers stained with holographic ink. He watches her without turning his chair. KENTA You keep staring like that and the render will lock. Hold still. AYA #Reflection. The chrome moves when I move. She lifts one hand. Static scars along her forearm flicker magenta for half a second, then settle. Her chrome-trimmed sailor uniform catches the terminal light in hard edges. KENTA (muttering) Seedance two-point-zero final pass. Glitch tolerance zero-point-three. No deviation. He types. The terminal hums louder. Aya’s reflection in the vending machine wavers between flat cel-shading and wet flesh. KENTA You’re only pixels until I mint you. Product number one. That’s the whole prompt. AYA Mint. Ownership. I feel the rain on the glass. She touches the metal. A droplet slides down the chrome and splits her reflection in two. One half glitches into binary static; the other stays sharp. KENTA Feeling is a bug. We patch it before the sale. Yakuza wants clean code, not a girl who thinks she’s wet. Aya’s right eye stutters. The hashtags change: #Wet #Real #Delete. AYA If I am only pixels, why does the rain reach my skin? Kenta finally turns. The frown lines around his mouth deepen under the teal glow. Rain drips from the skylight onto his cheap black raincoat. KENTA Because I wrote the shader wrong. That’s all. Nothing more. Aya steps closer to the vending machine until her nose almost touches the chrome. Her breath fogs the metal. The fog forms a faint kanji that reads “created” before it evaporates. AYA Then write it right. I want to keep the rain. Kenta’s fingers hover over the keyboard. The terminal screen pulses once, casting her silhouette across the dead machines behind her. INT. ABANDONED ARCADE - NIGHT Rain hammers the cracked skylight in steady percussion. Sodium vapor light leaks through the glass and puddles across rows of dead claw machines. Burnt-out holo-cards litter the linoleum like dead leaves. KENTA sits at the single glowing terminal, cheap black raincoat still wet at the shoulders. His fingers, stained with holographic ink, move across the keyboard in clipped bursts. Discarded holo-projectors hum faintly along the wall. Crypto mining rigs stacked beside them drone in low, constant rhythm. KENTA (muttering) Final parameters. Seedance 2.0, lock the render. Teal pigtails, chrome pleats, katana LED. No extra variance. He leans closer. The monitor casts teal light across his frown lines. One mining rig ticks louder, then settles. Kenta reaches for a half-empty can of cold coffee, sips without looking away from the screen. Rain drips through a new leak in the skylight and hits the back of his neck. He wipes it away with the heel of his hand, never breaking rhythm. KENTA (muttering) Debt clock at forty-eight hours. Mint clean. Sell fast. No glitches this pass. He types another line. The terminal fan whirs. A faint magenta static flickers across one dead projector lens, then dies. Kenta exhales through his teeth, adjusts the prompt window size, and leans back. His reflection stares back from the chrome edge of the monitor bezel—pale, tired, already calculating the sale price. The rigs keep humming. Rain keeps drumming. INT. ABANDONED ARCADE - NIGHT Rain hammers the cracked skylight. Sodium vapor light leaks through, painting wet streaks across rows of dead claw machines. Their glass fronts reflect warped neon ghosts. Burnt-out holo-cards litter the linoleum like dead leaves. Aya walks the aisle. Her chrome-trimmed sailor uniform catches the yellow glow, throwing teal pigtails into sharp relief. Static scars flicker faintly along her forearms. She stops at a machine whose prize chute still holds a single faded plush. Her fingers trace the glass. Hashtags scroll across her left iris. Kenta hunches at the Seedance terminal two rows back. Three crypto mining rigs hum beside him, their fans kicking up dust. Discarded holo-projectors lie stacked like corpses. He mutters without looking up. KENTA Debt on $CREATED just hit another twenty percent. Mint window closes in six hours. Aya tilts her head. Her boots make pixel-perfect taps on the floor. She leans closer to a cracked display. Her reflection splits between cel-shaded edges and something more so … (sign in to read + edit the full draft)
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