Go For Broke

The objective, as ever, remains total ruin.

It is 1888. The firm of Opher-Broke has hired you to its liquidation desk, handed you a million guineas, and given you one instruction: lose all of it — honestly, on the open market, before the season closes.

Down is winning. Every loss prints in the rising colour.

THE MARKET. A hundred fictional companies on the Fall Street board, each moving to the same shared, auditable tape. Trade on margin, carry the interest, and watch a well-built position come apart exactly as intended.

THE MORNING PAPER. The Fall Street Journal prints every market day. F. Erret gives nothing away but is usually right. Management is sincerely proud of your progress. The founding partner expects results.

YOUR DEPARTMENT. Run an office league against colleagues. Every term closes on the 1st; everyone starts level.

THE SEAL. Only a legitimate bankruptcy is sealed. A fraudulent filing gets nothing at all.

No real money. No real companies. Just the quiet dignity of doing badly, well.