Friday Night Funkin:

The Musical Movie!

The sun beams down on Funkdella Hollows, a vibrant, music-infused neighborhood of New York. People are actively engaged in life. Singing,dancing and hanging out. Boyfriend,a 19 year old boy,glides down the street on his Shakebroad,a high-tech hoverboard. He expertly weaves through the crowd,a ble cap perched backward on his head. The massive stage is prepped for a concert. Girlfriend,a 18 year old girl,is adjusting a large sound system. She looks up,smiling as Boyfriend skids to a perfect stop at center stage.

BF:Ready to rock,GF! This place is huge!

GF:Your first booked gig by my parents! They're on board now,mostly. They just gave me a five-page list of ground rules for you.

Girlfriend laughed warmly as Boyfriend nervously adjusted his cap.

BF:Hey,good terms are good terms. Let’s run the setlist.

Boyfriend hops off his board,vibrating with kinetic energy. Girlfriend hops off her speaker base and walks toward him, her expression shifting to something more serious.

GF:Before we do BF... I know how we met,with the bullies and all that. But I don't really know you. The real you. What made you start rapping? What inspired the beeps?

The excitement drains from Boyfriend’s face. He stiffens. He instinctively reaches up and touches a faint, jagged scar just above his left temple, partially hidden by his cap. His hands lightly shake.

BF:It’s…it's not a fun story.

GF:I want to know.

Girlfriend slowly takes Boyfriend's hand in reassurance. He looks around the empty theater, the bright morning light harsh now. He sighs,preparing to open up old wounds.

BF:It all started back in Starlight, Harmonia Medley. My hometown...

Flashback sequence begins,hinted visually with a shift in color grading to a cooler palette. Boyfriend stands center stage, the lights of the empty theater feeling heavy. Girlfriend is close by, holding his hand.

BF:Harmonia Medley wasn't like this place. It was quiet. Real quiet. My high school,Starlight Middle,was just... normal. Until it wasn't.

The image is grainy, unsettling. A typical school building. Sirens blare in the distance. Chaos erupts as students run screaming from the building. Younger Boyfriend is smaller and scared,hiding behind some lockers.

BF:It was a Tuesday. There was an incident, and everything just...erupted. I hid in a locker room,shaking the whole time. Everyone was running,screaming. It was pure chaos.

Young Boyfriend peers out from a small crack. He sees a flash of orange and red movement—a familiar shock of ginger hair taking cover behind a wall,a figure holding a weapon.

BF:I saw this one kid...Pico. He wasn't running. He was fighting back. I watched him save a ton of people that day. He became my hero,I guess. He showed me that you don't have to just hide and let bad things happen. You fight the fear with your own fire.

Young Boyfriend is sitting in his room, an old microphone in hand. He's listening to an upbeat,aggressive rap track,mimicking the rhythm with intense focus.

BF:When the dust settled, everything was different. I realized my voice, my rhythm...that was my weapon. I dropped out of college,started battling on the streets,anywhere I could. I poured all that energy,all that fear,into the beats. The beeps...they're my armor. My way of being brave.

Boyfriend finishes his story, looking down at the stage floor. Girlfriend squeezes his hand tighter.

GF:Ben...Boyfriend...I had no idea..

BF:But that's the past,right? Now I've got you and we've got this stage!

Boyfriend cues up the music. The first real concert track begins to blast. The theater,now magically full of cheering fans,roars to life. Boyfriend grabs the mic,ready to rap his heart out,the scar a memory,the future a beat.