The friend of
  • the diligent bankrupt
  • the honest insolvent
  • the punctual filer

Go For Broke

The enemy of
  • the accidental profit
  • the windfall
  • the recovering position

Opher-Broke · Fall Street · est. 1871 Form GFB‑1 · The Prospectus Price §0.00

The GO FOR BROKE emblem: the Company's oxblood wax seal, crown and rampant lion, with a flaming red arrow crashing downward through it. A banner reads THE STOCK MARKET GAME.

You have been hired to bankrupt the Company. Legitimately.

You begin with one million. You win by driving it to nothing. Every company, ticker, price and headline in the game is invented.

Profit ▲ +§12,400 — a setback Ruin ▼ −§48,000 — progress
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Free to enter. Optional in‑app purchases. No advertising. Employment requires a Google or Apple account.

Notice to prospective employees

A market like no other

Every other market rewards you for going up; this one is a Victorian financial house that rewards you for going down — and it means it.

Exhibit AThe Floor

A market that goes the wrong way when you’re right

Trade a fictional universe of companies — none of them real, and that is the joke, not a secret. Buy well and your balance climbs, in honest green, exactly the wrong direction. The clever employee learns to lose on purpose.

Exhibit BThe Office

Commissions with your colleagues

Form a private department. The market never closes — it runs through the night, and your positions move while you sleep. Climb The Corporate Ladder by falling faster than the people beside you. Standing is measured in how much you have lost.

Exhibit CThe Paper

A paper that lies to you three times in eight

Read the morning edition of The Fall Street Journal, printing since 1888, and watch the Wire. Of every eight items, three are true, three are plausible and false, two are only colour. The desk never tells you which. Learning the paper is the game.

Exhibit DThe Basement

A machine that hands your money back if you’re greedy

Down in the basement is a device that pays out — and then, should you reach for too much, quietly reverses and hands your losses straight back to you. The Company installed it for your benefit. It is watching to see whether you can resist.

The people who will process your descent

The staff

G. Opher: an engraved ink portrait of a jowled gopher in small round spectacles, a shirt, a dark tie and a jacket, with the weary half-lidded eyes of middle management.
G. Opher
Junior Liquidation Officer
Onboarding & Descent
“Your objective is total financial ruin. Please initial each box. Refreshments are not provided.”

— G.O.

B. Adger: an engraved ink portrait of a badger in an immaculate pinstripe three-piece suit, smiling sincerely, an upward-arrow pin on the lapel.

B. Adger

Managing Director · Management

“Outstanding portfolio growth is always the objective. The company wishes you every success.”

— B.A.

F. Erret: an engraved ink portrait of a ferret in period dress — a flat-crowned hat, a brooch at the throat, a notched jacket over a high collar — the animal's dark bandit mask across the eyes, her expression composed and unreadable.

F. Erret

Columnist · The Fall Street Journal

“The coming session favours shipping. I would not be found elsewhere. You may quote me.”

— F. ERRET

The record, in the Company’s own hand

Every screen is a form

Go For Broke is rendered as the paperwork of your own downfall — ledger numerals, rubber stamps, off-white form stock. These are live plates from the floor.

The Ledger screen: a RECONCILED BALANCE of §372,233.56 with a movement of minus §627,766.44 shown in red — a loss, and therefore progress — above the board of 100 fictional companies in ink.
The Ledger — the balance falling, in honest red, over the board of a hundred invented companies
The Fall Street Journal screen: the blackletter masthead, the motto 'Ruin, Faithfully Reported.', the ears, a lead story with a drop cap, and F. Erret's column with her engraved portrait.
The Fall Street Journal — the morning edition, three lies in every eight
The Employee Record screen: a Victorian office with a curtained window, and a personnel card giving the employee's name, number and start date.
The Employee Record — your office, your name on the Company’s books
The Document Disposal screen: an engraved shredding machine with a hand-wheel, a memorandum reading THE MACHINE HAS HAD ITS FILL, the standing order to destroy no less than §20,000 a sitting, and a tray holding §20,700 at risk.
Document Disposal — the machine in the basement, and the money on the tray
The Corporate Ladder screen: colleagues ranked by balance, with the lowest balance at the top — you sit first, on §372,233.56, above rivals still carrying a million or more.
The Corporate Ladder — standings; you climb it by falling faster than the desk beside you
Plate pending
The Shop — a handful of honest conveniences; no advertising, no loot boxes
Plate pending
The Notice of Administration — the trophy for a job disastrously well done, pressed only once a run is run to ruin
The Company seal in oxblood wax: a crown above a rampant lion on a shield, ringed by the words SEALED · OPHER-BROKE · FALL STREET · 1871.

Sealed this day by Opher-Broke of Fall Street. The market is fictional. The paper more so. Go for broke.