Inside Job: A Game of Greed

1980s Wall Street and the crypto age. Build a fortune in thirty days on trades, tips, and nerve, or blow it all in an afternoon. Two free campaigns, two more to unlock.

You wanted in. Now you are in.

Inside Job is a single-player narrative trading game about appetite. You start with a desk, a mentor, and a number you would like to make bigger. Over thirty days you take the meetings, work the angles, and decide exactly how far you are willing to go. The money is easy. Staying out of the windowless room downtown is the hard part.

This is not a trading simulator. It is a story you steer through choices, where every option carries a posture, and the world quietly keeps score.

TWO ERAS. ONE INSTINCT.

THE FLOOR, 1980s Wall Street. Suits, suspenders, inside tips, and a firm where nobody asks questions when the number is right. Until someone downtown does. THE CHAIN, the crypto age. The same greed, now anonymous and on-chain, where clout is liquidity and the rug is always somewhere under your feet.

Each era is its own world: palette, typeface, slang, cast. Two campaigns per track, the first free and the second $0.99. The Floor runs Barbarians and No Quarter Down. The Chain runs Number Go Up and Exit Liquidity.

FIVE METERS. THE WORLD PUSHES BACK. Wealth, Reputation, Heat, Loyalty, and Excess rise and fall with your nerve, renamed Stack, Clout, Exposure, Crew, and Flex on The Chain. Push any too far and the consequences arrive on their own schedule.

INFORMATION HAS A NAME ON IT. Some choices hand you something you were not supposed to know: a bid clearing Friday, a fund that cannot cover redemptions, a founder about to unlock. Trade on it and the tape does exactly what you were told. It also writes a line in your Ledger with the name of whoever told you.

THE LEDGER. THE CASE THEY ARE BUILDING. Every dirty move becomes an entry: dated, described, sourced to someone who could swear to it. Open entries heat you up a little more each day, and investigators quote them back at you word for word. Bury one with a lawyer if you have the cash, or ask a friend to forget it if you have the standing. Let that standing collapse and everyone who agreed to forget remembers at once.

BET AGAINST IT. Knowing a name is about to fall is only worth money if you can trade the fall. Borrow it, sell it now, buy it back after the drop, keep the difference. The desk lends against your cash and watches the same screen you do. Let a short run against you overnight and they close it at the open, at whatever the number says.

THREE PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT CONTACTS. Everyone has an opinion about you. Three people keep their own count: the one who hired you, the one who trusted you, the one who believes in you. They move when you do something to them specifically. On the last night, one of them says the last thing anybody says to you. Which one, and whether it is a hand on your shoulder or a receipt, is your doing.

THE CLOSE. EVERY NIGHT, AN ACCOUNTING. Each day ends with the number and the reason behind it, what the street is saying tonight, and a plain read on where you stand.

BIG MONEY. BIGGER SWINGS. Trade every day and read the wire. One call can make millions by lunch or wipe you out by close. It is a story, not a wager: no real money is ever involved.

EVENTS THAT GO SIDEWAYS, EVERY RUN. Windfalls, benders, subpoenas, betrayals, and the occasional very bad idea that pays beautifully. Twenty per campaign, from a deck that never repeats in a run.

THIRTY-TWO ENDINGS. ONLY ONE IS YOURS. Eight authored finales per campaign. Legend, conviction, the clean walk, the quiet fade, each a distinct epilogue with its own illustration. A gallery tracks the ones you have found.

DRAWN BY HAND, BUILT TO REPLAY. An illustrated cast, two distinct eras, and original art for all thirty-two endings. Six origin variants per campaign. Plays offline. No account, no ads, no trackers. Built for iPhone and iPad.

No real money is wagered or won. Inside Job is a work of fiction, a game about greed, not a guide to it. Mature themes; intended for adult players.

We carry the risk. You make the call.