Screens
It looks like this.
You are a founder. You have a hoodie, a vision, and $1,000.
Climb the buzzword ladder — Big Data, AI, AGI, whatever's hot this quarter — and ride the hype to a $1,000,000,000 valuation in twelve months. Post hot takes. Raise round after round. Pivot at exactly the right moment.
Maybe even ship something. Carefully, though: real revenue makes investors nervous.
What you actually do
Turn-based. One more month, one more round. The kind of loop that eats a lunch break.
Every post, pivot and raise lands in a live timeline. Hot takes can backfire.
Another startup is chasing the same unicorn. Only one of you gets the headline.
Due diligence, a congressional hearing, and a co-founder who wants out.
The epilogue remembers exactly what you claimed back in month three.
IPO, sell to Big Tech, or quietly cash out before anyone checks the numbers.
The Dropout. The Nepo Baby. The ex-McKinsey partner. Each one plays differently.
Those banners inside the game are part of the satire. There is no real advertising.
Screens
Critical acclaim
“Forget unicorns. This game will crush your startup dreams faster than your seed investor starts ghosting your calls.”
“A harsh but necessary glimpse into the theater of the absurd that is modern venture capitalism. Our analysts recommend playing it at least three times before raising your seed round.”
“Finally, something that perfectly simulates the exact feeling of your best-friend-turned-cofounder burning through your $1.5M runway on a random NFT collection.”
“A game that captures the essence of Silicon Valley with more painful accuracy than an unexpected subpoena landing on the CEO’s desk.”
“The most fun you can have going virtually bankrupt! 10/10, would play again, even while the company bank account is permanently overdrawn and the burn rate approaches the speed of light.”
“It’s like Monopoly, but instead of buying houses and hotels, you have to convince VCs that your 15th pivot is definitely the right one this time.”
Every quote above is invented, and so is every publication that supposedly wrote it. Any resemblance to an actual newspaper is a coincidence we are fully prepared to defend in court — ideally with money we have not raised yet.
Revenue: $0. Always.
That's the point.