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?

I eat what lumberjacks bring me, my silver-teethed mouth singing. Making slices is what I'm at. What am I, turning round to flat?