Work / ORA-26
Every focus supplement says the same thing: clearer head, sharper day, buy now. The campaign's job: prove the claim by making the product disappear into the moment it's needed — and prove Dravn can hold one brand across two completely different registers, quiet and loud, without either one feeling like a different company.
What problem the campaign solves
Supplement DTC has split into two tribes that never speak to each other: the Ritual-tier brands (glass jars, restraint, clinical credibility) and the Olly/Grüns-tier brands (mascots, jokes, maximalist worlds). Most studios can build one register or the other. Almost none can hold both inside a single brand without it reading as two different companies.
Give Ora both voices on purpose. Two ads that whisper — a jar beside a coffee cup, a phone turned face-down. Three ads that shout — a fortress under siege, a chain of dominoes stopped cold, a gunfighter who already won. Same jar, same claim, same "Ora." signature closing every ad — the range is the proof of craft, not a contradiction.
The device — repeats across every ad
Quiet or loud.
Always focused.
"Focus. One gummy a day." closes every ad in the set, whether the scene is a sunlit kitchen counter or a besieged fortress of books. The line never changes register even when the art around it does — which is what makes five wildly different worlds read as one campaign instead of five separate ideas.
Two voices. One product. One line that never moves.

Two objects, equal weight, one gummy already out of the jar. No claim louder than a sentence, no scene louder than a kitchen counter. The ad doesn't compete with coffee — it stands beside it.
Why it exists: Establishes the quiet register and the brand's actual voice before anything gets loud. Argues Ora fits into a morning that already works, rather than asking anyone to replace something they love.

A jar that admits it's half the answer. The concession is the entire pitch — every other supplement in this category overclaims, so the one that doesn't becomes the one you believe.
Why it exists: Trust ad for a category built on hype. Runs to an audience that's been burned by "clarity in a bottle" claims before and needs a reason to believe this one's different.

A full miniature world under attack, and the hero isn't fighting — he's reading. The joke is indifference, not victory. The chaos is maximal; the calm inside it is total.
Why it exists: The register-flip ad. Proves Ora — and Dravn — can build an entire character universe with original creature design, not just photograph a product.

A distraction cascade rendered as literal, cinematic physics — and then simply arrested. One immovable object ends a chain that was already in motion. No character needed; the jar itself is the hero.
Why it exists: Proves the loud register can work through pure physical metaphor, not just character comedy — range within the range.

Classic gunfighter framing, except the draw already happened off-camera. The gummy won before the ad even started. The holstered jar reads as both the punchline and the product shot — genre and branding solved in one composition.
Why it exists: Closes the loud trilogy on the most confident joke in the set — and reunites the established creature cast from Ad 03, proving the universe holds together across scenes.
What passed the 200% check
"Ora.", "FOCUS", "Daily Gummy Vitamin", "60 GUMMIES" — every character checked at 200% across all five ads, whether the jar sits on a kitchen counter or rides holstered at a gunfighter's hip. Packaging fidelity doesn't get a pass just because the scene turned playful.
The notification-gang — red badges, grey bells, white envelopes — appears with matching design across two separate ads (Siege, Standoff), proving the loud register is a built universe, not a single disposable joke.
The sign-off line is typeset identically in register, weight, and wording in every ad regardless of how loud or quiet the scene gets — the single thread that proves five ideas are one campaign.