I am a record of the present that becomes a relic by dusk. I possess many columns but support no roof. I am covered in ink, yet I have never written a word of my own. I offer you the world in folded sheets, and you use me to set that world on fire?

My purpose in this world is to prevent murder using fear tactics. Day and sleepless night I keep unwavering, unseeing watch. I don't move a muscle nor do I say anything even if I do see something - I simply let my daunting form do the speaking. This is a good thing, though, because if I could move, I would frighten more than just my intended audience.

I have many keys, none open a door. On your desktop is where I am stored. I am your legs, your speech, your ability to cast spells. I can even reload your shotgun shells. So many functions in digital space. Too many buttons that a mouse alone can’t replace.

In a sudden shower, I’m your friend, pop me open, and your troubles end

I may form, rip spacetime and bring chaos, but I’m also the name of a digital coin. What am I?