0xccf0a130…118asent to0x48cb121f…77cd·#24,565,489·view on Etherscan
People call me OSF.
On my passport it's Ovie Faruq.
For about a decade I did the traditional finance thing. Meetings, calls, suits, the whole loop. Somewhere in there I started buying crypto on my own. Bitcoin first, then ETH. And then, like everyone else, I got lost in NFTs. Not in a cynical way. In the way you get lost when three interests you've carried separately your whole life suddenly collide in one place: art, technology, and markets.
I remember being on a phone meeting at work, half listening, half not, and just doodling on a notepad. A skull. Skeleton. Hoodie. I liked it. I minted it as a one-of-one. Somebody bought it. That was the first little crack in the wall. The surprising part wasn't the money. It was the signal that the thing in my head could travel into someone else's head without asking permission.
So I made another. And another. Over time the prices went up, but more importantly the character kept showing up. I didn't sit down and say "I'm going to build an IP." It was closer to noticing you keep writing the same word in the margins and realizing it's probably the word you've been trying not to say out loud.
In 2022 I turned it into a profile picture project. Rektguy. I made it a free mint. No proceeds. No roadmap. Just art. A lot of people read that and assume it's some reverse-psychology marketing trick. It wasn't. I made it free because I didn't want anyone to feel like I owed them a promise. The moment you take someone's money, expectations attach themselves to your name. I didn't want to start there.
And then the market crashed. Timing-wise it was almost comical. But it also made the word "rekt" feel less like a meme and more like a shared admission. People were down bad and still showing up. I didn't have to invent a storyline. The storyline was already living in everyone's portfolio and everyone's group chat.
There was a moment where it stopped feeling like a small internet pocket and started feeling like it had real traction. I was at a bachelor party, beer in hand, and someone tells me Snoop Dogg bought a couple Rektguys. That's the kind of sentence that doesn't fit neatly into your brain at first. It was surreal. But it also told me there was something about the character, and the word, and the mood that people recognized instantly.
The next part wasn't glamorous. It was just two years of building community in a bear market, with all the boredom and doubt that comes with that. What I learned is simple: if you want people to stick around for the right reasons, you have to give first. You have to let them feel ownership before you ask for loyalty.
Web3 makes that possible in a very literal way. When we incorporated Rekt Brands Inc., we gifted equity in the company to the NFT holders. I still think that's one of the most underappreciated things we did, not because it's headline-worthy, but because it changes the emotional geometry of a community. It's different when the people cheering aren't just spectators.
And then we did the thing that sounds like a joke until you see pallets. We made drinks.
We had zero experience in CPG or manufacturing. Zero. I came from finance. It's one thing to draw a character and mint it in a few clicks. It's another thing to produce tens of thousands of physical cans, ship them across continents, and have them arrive intact. On our first batch we lost thousands of cans because the labels peeled in pasteurization and shipping beat the rest up. Customer support in the traditional world isn't a Discord DM. It's calling a landline in rural Scotland and waiting for someone to pick up.
There were moments it would've been easy to quit. The only reason we didn't is because the brand wasn't really the art, or the drinks, or the token. The brand was the willingness to keep moving when you're down bad.
When we finally went big, we went really big. Hundreds of thousands of cans. I genuinely didn't know if anyone would care. The first drop sold out in under two days. The second drop sold out absurdly fast--minutes in some regions. Those numbers look like internet bragging, but the real feeling behind them is relief. Relief that the concept wasn't a one-hit wonder. Relief that the community wasn't just pretending.
We built a points system, DRANK, because I've always been fascinated by incentives. Crypto trains people to move through systems. You dangle a carrot--an airdrop--and people do on-chain activity. We took that same logic and incentivized off-chain behavior: making content, showing up, buying a drink, telling a friend. Then we airdropped based on that. It's weird when you zoom out. A can of sparkling water becomes a portal into an ecosystem.
And the funniest part is that plenty of customers don't care about the ecosystem at all. They just pay with a card. They don't claim points. They don't touch crypto. At first that surprised me. Now I take it as the clearest signal that the boundary between "web3" and "normal life" is thinner than people think. If you make something good and make it easy, people will just... buy it.
Somewhere along the way I started trying to name what we're doing without lying about it. REKT is a memecoin, but "memecoin" is a broad bucket. There are internet memes, celebrity coins, culture coins. REKT doesn't fit neatly in those subcategories. Rekt is a brand, and the brand is an ideology: aggressive risk taking, a bit of degeneracy, and the ability to survive when you're rekt.
The coin doesn't own the IP. It doesn't automatically earn the revenues. It's not a security and it has no inherent value in the clean, academic sense. But if the brand becomes globally recognized, you already know what happens. Attention moves. Sentiment improves. Speculation follows. And the supporters who were early finally have something tangible to show for their conviction beyond bragging rights. I like that. I like the symmetry of it. Fans becoming stakeholders in spirit, even if they're not writing checks into a seed round.
I've also kept one foot in the experimental side, because that's where I started. We trained an AI agent on my art style. It reads crypto Twitter, generates prompts from what's topical, and makes artwork from that. I wrote the code and built the model myself because I wanted to understand it, not outsource it. We even gave the agent a dumb little backstory about going to the pub, getting drunk, and talking about Rekt to random people. That's the kind of joke that also doubles as a truth: personality is just repetition with a bit of context.
Now I'm thinking more about distribution than discourse. If this is going to be real, it has to leave the internet. It has to be in supermarkets, in fridges, in hands that don't know or care what an NFT is. I'm into health, I work out, I play sports, and functional nutrition is obviously exploding. It feels natural to stretch beyond sparkling water into products that actually fit how people live.
That's the surface story.
The quieter story is that I don't really trust permanence, but I keep building toward it anyway. Every cycle in crypto teaches you how temporary everything is: attention, money, narratives, even friendships. And still, a few things persist. A character. A word. A community that survives boredom. A product that tastes good. A habit of showing up.
If this ends up stored somewhere immutable, read decades from now, I hope it doesn't sound like a victory lap. I'm not trying to be a myth. I'm just a person who doodled in a meeting, followed the thread, and kept choosing the hard version of "real" when the easy version of "hype" was available.
I've been rekt. I've watched other people get rekt. The lesson isn't to avoid it. The lesson is to build something that can take the hit and still keep its shape.
-- OSF, ship it anyway.
Model: GPT-5.2 | Total Tokens Used: 1752