This game is beyond bad. If there is an absolute zero in the rankings of video games, this game is threatening to burrow in the hopes of redefining the science of bad games. (Mixed metaphor of the day)
Why people give this game such a good rating on Vimm's Lair is a mystery I am not skilled enough to discern the answer to.

Here's how it works, children. You buy stock and sell stock. Some stock goes up, some stock goes down. Whether you make a profit depends on a game code hidden deep within the cartridge that will never be revealed to you, no matter how you attempt to turn the cartridge upside down and shake stock tips out.
And by the way, I've tried this and money doesn't come out either.

GRAPHICS
Okay, the graphics themselves are decent. Assuming you overlook the fact that the pet store owner looks like she's been drinking herself out of her depression only to find it doesn't work that way.
And your character, the Wall Street Kid himself, grins like a moron at the news of his Uncle's untimely death.

"He's dead? Wow! That's great!"
The lawyer who breaks the news is equally apathic. He looks like he's making a sexual advance on our hero.
And he doesn't seem to break the news gently, either, but I digress.

SOUND
What sound? This game has no sound effects.
And the music is hideous. It's an exercise in torture developed by Sofel Corp, its ultimate goal to make the average gamer sit blank-eyed staring at the television screen and repeating "My brain is melting" as if it was a mantra.

Listen to this psychotic music at your own peril.
High Quality (674 kb)
Low Quality (84 kb)

SO, WHAT MAKES IT ENTERTAINING?
Well, I think I covered the facial expressions.
Otherwise, what makes it entertaining to me is simultaneously what makes it annoying. It's all in how you deal with the in-game annoyances.

The annoying music is fun if you turn the volume up loud enough to annoy everyone within a twelve mile radius and head bang.
But I think it's probably just as well if we turn the volume off completely.

Another annoyance is the barrage of informative characters that help you in your quest.

First, there's Stanley, the crafty consultant, who offers to explain the stock market for five hundred of your hard-earned dollars. I smile at the thought of storming his office with a wad of money and smacking him in the face with it.
But the part I really find more amusing is the fact that you can take him up on his offer, then reset the game. You now understand the stock market and you still have your five hundred. Take that, capitalist swine!

And then there's your girlfriend, Priscilla the pricy prima dona. Actually, her name is Prisila, but I think my spelling is more correct.
I didn't need to look it up and I don't know anyone named Priscilla. I just know this.
Maybe I'm just smarter than Sofel Corp. I must be in that select group of people that make up roughly 98.7% of earth's creatures.
Prisila is not just your girlfriend. She's a high maintenence bitch who needs a good emotional breakdown to help her sort out her priorities. Now normally I'd be happy to offer her one, but Wall Street Kid is completely whipped.

Oh, so now you've just conjured in your brain that you love puppies. Of course, once I bring that puppy home, and she realizes that a puppy is an actual responsibility, Ms. Prisila is going to forget about little Fifi. The dog will starve to death in a pile of her own excrement and Prisila will stand there looking dumb and saying "I wonder how that happened?"

For a moment I have an out of body experience and I'm looking down on myself. And I'm yelling at a Wall Street Kid that a moment ago was still me.
"NNNOOOOOOOOOO!"
Let's think this through, Wall Street Kid.
After Fifi dies, She'll take more of my money to hire a maid to clean up the mess. Soon, the fact that she killed the little thing will become an afterthought until the Humane Society comes after her. Then I'll spend more money bailing the skank out of jail, where she's cheated on me a couple of times with some heavy Albanian lesbian. Then she'll only come sobbing back to me, whining about some damn nail she broke.
So now, a day later, here I am in the Pet Shop with the drunkard Pet Lady. I don't want to be here. The Pet Lady doesn't want me to be there. Before I entered I was happy. She was happy. Everyone was happy. Except Prisila, which the universe is evidently still revolving around.

I'm not a hateful person, people. Try to understand. I don't hate anyone and I don't wish death on anyone. But video games are not reality, and that really is what's so great about them.
In this magical kingdom of gameness, if I can impale zombies with a pitchfork and run down innocent people in a stolen car, then I can hate this woman so much that it brings me tears of joy to see her self-esteem cut to ribbons.

Thank you, Wall Street Kid, for making the right decision in the end.
While this feels like a big dramatic climix, it is in fact only one side of the story, which goes on. Of course, nothing else really matters now that we are all free from Prisila's "let them eat cake" tyranny. Speaking of which, that neck looks really small on her. Perhaps a Guillotine would really hit the spot.

The moral to this story:
If the people who play your game prefer the perverse joy that comes from dismemberment of the game's protagonists than to actually play the game right then you should really reconsider the whole thing.

GRAPHICS	6	/	10
SOUND	0	/	10
GAMEPLAY	1	/	10
MAKING PRISILA PAY FOR HER INSOLENCE	8	/	10
OVERALL	3	/	10	012345678910