When you say 'just one more try,' your brain is already begging for silence

I used to think excitement was the point.

Now I see it differently.

Last night, I opened another game—not because I wanted to win, but because my hands were tired of waiting. The numbers didn’t light up. The drum didn’t beat. And yet, I kept playing.

As someone trained in behavioral decision theory at UCL, I once believed algorithms could predict joy. But real players don’t chase wins—they chase pauses. They chase the space between spins where nothing happens… and still they click ‘play’ again.

The system isn’t broken. It’s designed to mirror our need for control.

You don’t need more cards. You need fewer moments.

I remember a woman—mid-thirties, living alone in a London flat—who played ‘Samba Night Bingo’ for six weeks straight without winning. She didn’t talk about it online. She just saved screenshots like prayers: one line, one pattern, one silent evening. She called it ‘meditation with stakes.’

The RNG doesn’t lie. It just doesn’t care whether you do.

We call it ‘luck.’ They call it ‘a rhythm.’

I say: if you keep playing because you think the next draw will be different—you’re not chasing joy. You’re running from yourself.

Let the game end when your breath steadies into silence. The music doesn’t stop because you won. It stops because you needed to hear it.