When AI Cheats, I Cried: The Hidden Philosophy Behind My Failed Casino Game Project

I didn’t build this game to make money. I built it because I needed to understand why we keep spinning when we know the outcome is already written.

At 3 AM in my Brooklyn apartment, surrounded by half-empty coffee cups and flickering UI mockups, I stared at a slot machine that claimed to be fair—but felt like a curse wrapped in ancestral code. The RNG didn’t lie. It just didn’t care.

I used Unity and Node.js to simulate Chinese mythic symbols—Jade Dragons, Ghost Scrolls, Celestial Treasures—not for aesthetics, but as metaphors for control. Each Wild symbol was a plea for autonomy. Each Scatter? A system call no one answered.

My mother said: ‘You code like you live.’ She left when I was twelve. Now my algorithms run on her silence.

The RTP is 96%. That’s not generosity. That’s math wearing a mask.

I watched players chase jackpots like pilgrims chasing ghosts—believing if they waited long enough, the dragon would appear. But it never did.

They called it ‘entertainment.’

I called it grief dressed as feedback loops.

I stopped playing last Tuesday.

Now I write this—not for clicks or donations—but so someone else doesn’t cry alone at 3 AM again.