Roulette: what are the odds of hitting red after 8 x black
Roulette Wheel and Table Layout - Number Sequence
Roulette Odds - Payout Charts and Probability for Each Bet
roulette table odds on black
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I live in a small mining town in the mountains of Colorado. Someone is building a massive casino nearby, Pictures Included
I grew up in a small mountain town named Eureka. It was founded in the late 1800s during the gold rush, but after the mines dried up the town began its slow descent into decay. Half the houses are empty or abandoned now. You can see a picture of the kind of houses here in Eureka: First house Second house When a massive construction project began nearby, it was the talk of the town for weeks. Why would they build something in a sleepy dying town like Eureka? It wasn’t until my sister Selene talked to a few construction workers that we discovered they were building a casino. A casino up in the mountains, over two hours away from Denver. None of us could understand why they’d chosen here of all places. After a few months of work, the casino was done. I took a picture of the town with the completed casino in the background to the right. The ten-story-structure sticks out like a sore thumb off in the distance. Town+Casino After the casino opened, they hired a few dozen members of the town, offering high paying jobs to work as dealers or cleaning staff. I was already employed as a firefighter, but my sister Selene got a job as a blackjack dealer. She’s a widow with two young kids, so the paycheck was a real lifesaver. Still, something about the situation seemed too good to be true. The jobs over there paid far too well, and the management was far too accommodating. The fire station where I work is located high on a hill overlooking the town, so I began watching the casino from a distance each day. I had initially thought that the casino was located in a terrible location, but I was apparently wrong. True, Eureka was hours from any major city, but despite that, a bus full of people arrived every morning and left every evening. One night I was over at my parent’s house and had dinner with Selene and her kids. I asked her about her experience as a dealer. “It’s Ok,” she said. “Just a little boring I guess.” “Boring?” I asked. “I’m surprised you don’t have your hands full.” “Why’s that?” she asked. “It’s like you said, Eureka’s too small. I never have people playing cards. The casino is almost always completely empty.” I wasn’t sure what to make of that. If the place was always empty, what happened to the people who I’d seen arriving on buses? “I’ve been keeping an eye on the building,” I said. “A bus full of people typically arrives around 9 AM every day.” “Really?” she asked, looking confused. “If that’s true, I’ve never seen them. “I can see it from the fire station,” I said. “If you head out for a smoke break at 9 AM, you’ll probably see them arriving.” “Interesting,” she said. “I’ll do that. If they’re being processed for their organs or something, I’ll let you know.” She laughed. “Har har,” I said sarcastically. The next night she sent me a text calling me over. When I arrived, she was nearly breathless with excitement. “Orin, You were right,” she said. “A big group of people did arrive, but they didn’t walk into my part of the casino. Instead, they all walked into an elevator at the back of the building. I’m not sure where that goes.” She looked thoughtful. “It was weird. They looked… How can I say it? Desperate? Something about the whole situation was very off. I’m gonna check out the elevator tomorrow.” I told her to be careful, though, to be honest, I was excited to hear about what she discovered. When I visited my parent’s house the next night, I found her two kids there alone. They told me that Selene had never returned from work. I called all her friends, then all our neighbors, but no one had seen her since she left for work that morning. Our conversations regarding the casino flooded my mind, then a plan began to form. Early the next morning I walked across town in my nicest pair of jeans and a button-up shirt. I pushed through the door to the casino and saw that Selene wasn’t lying. The place was all but deserted. Three dozen slot machines crowded the walls surrounding a few tables interspersed throughout the floor of the casino. The only players in the whole building were Bob and Donald, two locals. I walked up to a nearby table where Bridget, a girl I’d gone to high school with, was shuffling cards. She broke into a grin when she saw me. “Hey Orin, you here for a few rounds of blackjack?” “I wish,” I said. “No, I’m here to ask about Selene. She never made it home last night.” Bridget’s expression darkened. “Really? Have you asked around?” “I already called around. Have you seen her?” She shook her head. “No, our schedules rarely line up. I’ll be sure to let you know if I--” Her eyes focused on something behind me, and she cut herself off. I turned around to see the casino’s pit boss watching us both. He was a tall thin man in an impeccably clean black suit. When I turned back towards Bridget, she was looking down at the table and shuffling cards absent-mindedly. “Well, if you hear anything, let me know,” I said. She nodded, so I turned around and headed for the pit boss. I stuck out my hand. The temperature of his hand was so hot that I had to pull my hand away after a few seconds. “Have… have you seen my sister Selene?” I asked. “She hasn’t been seen since her shift here yesterday.” He smiled. “Sir, this floor is for players. You’re more than welcome to head to the tellers for chips, but barring that I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.” I stared at him for a long second before stalking towards the door. When I looked back, he was talking with Bridget. I checked my watch. 8:55 AM, just as I’d planned. I walked around the back of the building and waited as the morning bus pulled around the building. I waited for the telltale hiss of the opening doors and the sound of people descending before I rounded the corner and joined the crowd. None of them paid any particular attention to me as I walked with them into the casino. The crowd walked through a side door down a hallway to an elevator. Small groups of people entered the elevator as the rest of us waited for our turn. I shot a glance at the casino patrons, surprised at their diversity. There seemed to be people from all different countries and ethnicities. I heard one speaking Japanese and another speaking what sounded like an African language. My turn came along with a few other patrons in the elevator. A sickly woman hobbled into the elevator beside me carrying an IV that was still connected to one of her veins. We piled in and rode up to the top. The elevator rose for a few long seconds. I wasn’t sure what I would find, but I steeled myself for something horrible. The elevator’s speaker let out a TING, then the doors opened. We all walked out onto what looked like a standard casino. Another few dozen slot machines ringed the walls, but on this floor, they were almost all occupied by customers. I took in the scene, confused at why they’d have a ground floor that was almost completely empty when this place was almost-- Selene was dealing cards at a nearby table. I jogged over and sat down at an open seat. None of the players around me paid me much attention. “Selene!” I said. “Are you OK? Did you spend the night here last night?” Her eyes were glassy and confused. She looked up at me with a dumb expression and didn’t respond to my question. “Selene?” I asked. “What’s your bet?” she asked me. “This table is for blackjack players only.” “I…” I trailed off, looking at the players around me. None of them were betting with chips of any kind. “What’s the minimum bet?” I asked. “Three years,” she responded. “Three years then,” I said, not knowing what that referred to. Selene nodded, then began dealing cards. I shot a look down at my hand. King and a 9. Selene dealt out cards for herself, showing a 9. I stood, then leaned forward again. “Should I call the police? Are you--” “Congratulations,” she said tonelessly. An almost impossibly warm hand grabbed my shoulder. I spun to see the pit boss I’d spoken to earlier. He gave an impressed smile. “Orin, was it? I’m impressed, truly. Would you mind if I had a word with you?” I shot a look back at Selene who was dealing the next round of cards. Then I got to my feet, balling my hands into fists. “What did you do to her?” The pit boss clasped his hands behind his back. “Nothing more, and nothing less than what I’m going to do to you. That is, offer you the chance to play.” “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” The pit boss nodded his head towards a nearby slot machine. A woman in a wheelchair pulled a lever and watched the flashing numbers spin. They exploded in a cacophony of sirens and flashing lights. “WINNER WINNER WINNER!” The machine screeched. The woman in the wheelchair put her feet on the ground and stood up on a pair of wobbly legs that had clearly never been used before. “As in any other casino,” the pit boss said, “you must wager for the chance to win.” “She... won the use of her legs?” I asked, feeling light-headed. “Wait,” I said. “I played blackjack just now. ‘Three years,’ Selene told me. What does ‘three years’ mean?” I asked. “Three years of life, of course. Did you win?” My mouth felt dry. “I-- Yes, I won.” He smiled warmly. “Congratulations. I hope you enjoy them. I can tell you from personal experience that watching the decades pass is a bore. Give it some time and you’ll be back to spend them.” I watched the pit boss’s face. He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than me, and I was in my early thirties. I looked around at the casino. No one was playing with chips of any kind. “So what?” I asked. “I won years of life. That woman won the use of her legs. What else can a person win here?” “Oh, almost anything. They can win almost anything you can imagine.” A cold feeling settled in my stomach. “And what do they wager?” His eyes flashed with greed. “Almost anything. They can wager almost anything you can possibly imagine. Anything equal in value to the item they want in return.” He nodded towards a nearby roulette table. A man stood by the table, cradling his hands. “Another finger,” he called out. He only had three fingers remaining on his left hand. As I watched, the ball came to a stop, and another finger disappeared from his left hand. The pit boss extended his hands. “Feel free to try any of our games. Bet and win whatever you’d like.” He reached out and snatched my hand. A feeling of intense warmth passed up my arm to my chest. “There,” he said. “I’ve even given you some house money to get you started. An extra decade of life, on me.” I ripped my hand away, staring at him in horror. Then I looked back at Selene. Something clicked in my mind. “You offered her the chance to play. What did she want?” I asked. “Her husband,” the pit boss said. “Quite the sad story. He died two years ago. She wanted him brought back to her.” “What did she wager?” I asked. “She wanted the chance to win a soul, the most valuable object in existence. I’m sure you can imagine what she needed to wager for the chance to win it. What she wagered is unimportant. The important question is: What do you want, Orin?” I stared at Selene with a flat expression. “I’m sure you can imagine.” His eyes flashed with greed again. “How wonderful. The casino could always make use of another dealer. Feel free to make your wager at any one of our games; I’ll be eagerly awaiting the results of your night. Oh, and do take advantage of our waitresses. We always supply food and drink for ‘high rollers’.” He walked away. I spent the next few hours trying to decide which game to play. I was going to be wagering my soul, so I wanted the highest chance possible. Slots and roulette were out. I’d done some reading online about counting cards, so I figured that blackjack gave me the best odds. I walked up to Selene’s table and sat down. “Bet?” she asked with that same toneless voice. “Three years,” I said. I spent the next hour or so doing my best to remember how to count cards. I knew that low cards added one to my count and high cards decreased it by one, but the casino used three decks. I had read something about how that was supposed to change my calculation, but I couldn’t quite remember how. Every time I won a hand, I cursed myself for not putting everything on the line. Every time I lost, I breathed a prayer of thanks that I’d waited. And all the while, I kept track of the count. I had lost fifteen years of life when the count finally reached +5. “Bet?” Selene asked. “I wager my soul so you can be free,” I said. The table around me fell silent. Selene’s eyes flickered, but she showed no other emotion as she dealt the cards. I watched my first card, punching the air in excitement when I saw a Jack. My excitement turned to ash when my second card was a four. Fourteen. I looked at her hand. One card was facedown, but the faceup card was a King. I swore loudly, staring down at my hands. “Hit?” she asked. The entire table was silently watching me. “Hit,” I said, not looking down. The table erupted in cheers. I looked down to see a 7 atop my two other cards. 21. Blackjack. I looked at Selene who flipped over her facedown card to reveal a 9. 19. I won. The glassy look left her eyes immediately. She looked around in surprise, then her eyes locked on mine. “Orin?” she asked, then almost immediately began to cry. The entire casino broke out in cheers. I grabbed her hand and headed for the elevator. The doors had begun to close when the pit boss reached out with a hand to stop them. “Congratulations,” he said, beaming. He seemed to be honestly excited. “Shouldn’t you be upset?” I asked. “Not at all. Casinos love it when we have big winners. It inspires the other players to make larger bets. I imagine I’ll gain two or three dealers before the night is through from your performance.” “Great,” I said flatly. “Now let us go.” “Not yet,” he said. “You didn’t just win, Orin. You got a blackjack. And blackjack pays out 1.5 times your bet. You won your sister’s soul and more.” I stared, not sure what to say. “What are you saying? I won half a soul extra?” The pit boss grinned wildly. “Just remember what I said. You’ll find living for decades and decades to be a boring experience. After a few centuries, you’ll be back to gamble that half a soul away. Congratulations!” He removed his hand, and the elevator doors slammed shut. I helped Selene back to her house. Her children were relieved. I watched them cry, then moved into the kitchen to start making dinner. It’s been a few days since that experience. The casino is still out there, and buses full of people still arrive. I… I cut my hand pretty bad a few days later. When I checked it an hour later, it had already healed, no scar or anything. I’m not sure exactly what I won at that casino, but there’s no way I’m ever going back. X
Barely getting this one in under the wire before the new year! The holidays can be a tough time and I hope all you readers are making a good time of it and staying safe this year! Also all my judgements for being on time are based on my timezone, so far all of you who have been waiting this entire new year for another post? Well here you go! Just in time! As always enjoy! My stories My patreon First Chapter Previous Chapter Neu Vieumau Joint Occupation Zone Raiden was pretty happy with how the day was going so far. Get some credits, maybe actually get some new shoes… He wasn’t sure exactly if he should get his hopes up though. Why would the barter shop guy give him something so good for free? Would the human military police not live up to the coupon? His various experiences with the local militia had not exactly warmed him up to the idea that they had his best interests at heart. Yet… when he had called for help in the alleyway that squad of them had come running without hesitation. Shifting the straps of the small pack a little he felt a growing unease gnawing at his insides as he walked along the streets towards the old police station. There were so many unknowns that could flare up that gave rise to a vast imagination of everything going wrong. He was just one corner away from the street it was on. Since the humans had moved in they’d set up barricades and more security than the old militia had, and just the thought of turning onto the street was making him hesitate. He wanted to consider his options here… “Raiden!” He turned and saw Lenk and Neff exiting an alley across the street. Lenk was holding a bent pipe in one hand menacingly. Raiden immediately considered his options and turned the corner onto the street with the police station. Whatever else might happen they weren’t Neff and Lenk who were obviously still pissed he’d ruined their chance to scavenge that fancy bot. “Raiden!” He heard him call from around the corner and picked up his speed a little, gripping the straps of his pack as he tried to walk fast enough to make sure he’d get to the barricades, without making it look like he was running away from people exactly. A little up the street were the sandbags and razorwire being manned by the blue armor human soldiers. Most of them seemed to just be sitting around, two had their helmets off and were smoking. But in the middle of the post and towering above everything else was a three meter tall mech suit. Someone had gone through the trouble of painting a black band on its arm with MP in white letters on the outside. As if that really meant anything. The effect was also somewhat spoiled by the mech having “To Pillage and Stomp” written on the side of its head. Once Raiden had gotten closer to the barricades he looked back and saw Lenk and Neff round the corner, but stopped short when they realized where they were. “[Can’t hide forever!]” Lenk angrily yelled at him and then they both quickly retreated. This had gotten the attention of some of the soldiers at the post who looked Raiden’s way when he approached. “What did you do to piss those guys off, kid?” One asked as he neared the opening in the barricades off to the side of the street. “Yeah I uh… guess they’re mad I fucked their sister.” He responded with the first thing that came to mind. The soldiers around him all laughed at that. “Hey sorry kid we can’t offer police protection to sister fuckers if that’s why you’re here.” One mentioned with a chuckle. “No, but we can offer you a smoke.” One of the soldiers who had been smoking pulled a crumpled pack from his armored vest to hold it out. “Dude, don’t go giving a kid a smoke. Fuck is wrong with you?” Mentioned the other smoking soldier right next to him. “I’m not saying he has to! Just offering. The kid made me laugh.” Replied the first smoker. “Uhm…” Raiden eyed the pack being held out. “If I took one it would be just to barter with. Is that okay?” “I’m offering you a smoke. Don’t have to smoke it here.” The smoker replied with a grin. Raiden nodded and took a cigarette to carefully tuck behind his ear. “Thanks.” He nodded to the smoker and headed up the stairs into the police station itself. First he noticed the doors had been substantially reinforced, then the moment he stepped inside he was met with a security scanner. A pair of soldiers were manning it, chatting in the middle, but seeing him they split up, one heading to the cargo scanner while the other stood by the frame in the middle. “Pack on the conveyor. Any sharp objects or hazardous stuff we need to know about?” The first soldier sounding bored out of his mind asked as Raiden approached and unslung his pack to set on the conveyor. “I don’t think so? I’m making deliveries. It’s… food and stuff. Please don’t open the packages. I would like to get paid. Also be careful cause one of them has a laxative in it.” When he said that the soldier arched a brow but nodded and began to push the bag into the scanner. Raiden headed into the central frame then, already lifting his arms above his head before needing to be told. He was familiar with the operation. There was a light hum as the scanner… scanned he supposed. Then he heard a light beep. “Hey kid…” This would be it. Something was wrong, or there was a tax they hadn’t mentioned. “You’re too young to smoke.” The soldier manning the scanner frame reached out to take the cigarette from behind his ear. “Oh, uhm the guy outside gave it to me for making him laugh.” Raiden explained. “I’m not going to smoke it. Just use it to barter for like a candy bar.” “Huh… alright. Well just remember kid, smoking is bad.” The soldier handed Raiden the cigarette back and waved him through. Grabbing his pack he headed further inside and yet still felt a bit apprehensive. Was this really going to be this easy? Ahead was a desk with the first soldiers he’d seen not in armor. There were two, and they were wearing what looked like basic olive drab uniforms. One up front was wearing a hat he’d never seen before either. Then again he only ever saw them in helmets or without. It struck him as a little odd the man would wear a hat indoors but who was he to judge? He did notice stripes on his arm, that meant he was in charge right? Just as Raiden was trying to figure out how to address the soldier he looked up and saw Raiden looking at him. “What can I do for you kid?” Did everyone have to call him Kid? “I uh… I am here with a coupon. For boots.” He opened his pack to fish around for the paper the barter store owner had given him. “A coupon for boots? Kid this isn’t a shoe store.” Raiden focused on moving the boxes around trying desperately to find the paper. How was it in a small pack with so few things in it he suddenly couldn’t find the only piece of paper? “Is that a cigarette behind your ear? Kid you shouldn’t smoke, it’s bad for you.” “Why does everyone keep telling me that?” Raiden blurted out, feeling flustered. “I’m not going to smoke it! I’m just going to barter it! And I don’t have anywhere else to keep it safe. Besides don’t you guys get cigarettes in your rations?” Raiden countered. “Yeah but if we die before retirement age they don’t have to pay us any pensions.” The soldier replied with a shrug. “What?” Raiden asked, feeling more confused now. “Never mind kid it’ll make more sense when you’re older. If you don’t smoke that is. Otherwise you’ll die young and runty. It’s bad for you.” Raiden rolled his eyes a moment but finally fished out the piece of paper to hand over. “Kid I’m telling you this isn’t a shoe store it’s a police station.” “Guidelines state we’re not supposed to call it a police station. It’s an MP CP.” The other soldier without a hat working behind the desk mentioned. “Excuse me?” The striped soldier glanced over. “Official guidelines state we’re supposed to refer to it as a police station since we’re still a military unit. Therefore we’re supposed to refer to it as a military police command post. Command point? Control post? Control point?” The soldier sounded less sure with every iteration. “MP CP.” He returned to the first set of letters. “Since when the fuck do you read guidelines?” The front soldier asked. “Since you told me to sarge.” The other replied sounding a bit defensive. “Yes, because you kept fucking up your paperwork and now you’re lecturing me on calling this place an MP CP?” He shook his head and sighed before finally returning his focus on Raiden. He did take the paper though and as he looked it over a moment he frowned, then he turned to type on his computer. Raiden stood there, unsure of what to do until the sarge finally spoke up. “Huh… Well… it’s actually real. Whadya know. Alright kid I guess you’re off to requisition. Down that hall, down the stairs on your right, and then take a right at the bottom and go straight. It’ll be posted. The other way is the morgue. Don’t go that way.” The sarge handed him back the coupon. “Thanks.” Raiden nodded, and headed off to follow the directions. The hallway he headed down smelled vaguely of paint, and when he looked it seemed like they must have painted it recently. They’d gone with a sort of… deep purple. Like on their void flag. Probably to distance themselves from the militia they’d replaced. The militia always used gold, or what they claimed was gold color. He always thought it looked more like dry mustard. Finding the stairs was easy, and once he reached the bottom he saw the sign on the far wall easily. Requisition to his right, morgue to his left. The fresh paint smell was even more heavy down here. Heading towards requisition he carefully opened a door and saw another desk ahead much like the one upstairs. Except behind it was glass overlooking some kind of big… warehouse filled with shelves. The arrangement of the stuff inside reminded him of Clay and his barter shop. Down here there were two soldiers, a man and woman in the same olive drab uniforms as upstairs, though neither wore a hat and neither was working. Instead they were facing the window and talking. Just as he got closer he could start to overhear the woman first. “So then what did you do?” “The fuck do you think I did? I pulled up my pants and got the fuck out of there before she noticed what happened.” The man replied which caused the woman to laugh. “You dirty fuck.” She shook her head slowly. “What the fuck else could I do?” The man shrugged. “You say excuse me ma’am in the interest of human Davari relations I feel I should inform you that I’ve made a bit of a mess of your sheets and need some help.” The woman was laughing even as she suggested this. “Fuck you.” Came his reply. “So what happened when you went back to the bar?” The woman asked next. “You think I went back? Fuck no. I’ve been avoiding it ever since! And it sucks cause those drinks were good too. Strong. And cheap. And strong…” The man shook his head slowly and let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah strong enough to make you-” The woman just began to turn in her chair and saw Raiden standing at the counter. “HOLY SHIT!” She jumped a bit which made the other soldier jump and Raiden flinched, worried he was about to get shot. But neither pulled out a gun or anything and the woman just set a hand over her chest. “Fuck kid! Where the hell did you come from?!” “How much did you hear?!” Asked the man, seeming more worried about that. “I uh… something about you pulling up your pants. I don’t know.” Raiden looked between them. “I have a coupon for boots.” “What? This isn’t a shoe store.” The woman replied but when he handed over the paper she typed the details into her computer and just upstairs something positive happened. “Huh… okay. Well… but it says footwear. Not boots. We just have to give you footwear.” Raiden sighed a little, boots had been a bit much of an ask anyway. “Do we have anything else for footwear?” The male soldier asked with a confused look. “Well… no. But… he’s a civvie. Can we give him mil-spec?” The woman asked. “They’re fucking boots.” The man countered. “Yeah, mil-spec boots. You remember that fucking lecture on no mil-spec items distributing across the civvies.” The woman shrugged and scratched her head. “Check… check the regs.” “Why me?” The man asked. “Because I’m the corporal and I fucking told you to.” She sternly growled back. The man sighed and pulled a worn looking book out of a desk drawer as he started to flip through it. “What’s going on here?” It was Raiden’s turn to jump as he was surprised to hear a voice behind him. Turning he saw a soldier entering the room wearing armor. “Staff Sergeant.” The woman stood up. “This civilian brought in a… uh coupon for boots. But the form only specifies footwear. Yet, we only have boots.” “And… this is a problem… why?” The armored soldier asked as he approached Raiden and looked him over. “They’re mil-spec. And we just had the meeting about not distributing mil-spec good to-” She was about to continue but the staff sergeant just waved it off. “This kid helped us out earlier. Told us who that van belongs to that we’ve been trying to figure out for a week.” Raiden realized this must be the sarge from the squad in front of the pawn shop. In the armor and helmets he didn’t recognize them. “The one by the pawn shop?” The woman asked, confirming his realization. “Yep. Turns out it belongs to the guy who lives at the home it's parked in front of.” The armored soldier shook his head slowly. “How did it take us a week to figure that out?” The woman asked. “Because no one there would talk to us. Kid, why would no one talk to us?” The armored soldier asked him directly then. “Uhm… because they don’t really trust the occupiers. The militia before they pulled out said a lot of… stuff.” Raiden didn’t feel like getting specific. “Save these miserable bastards only for them to hate our guts.” The woman muttered with a sigh. “Still, he helped us out. So, get him some boots.” The armored soldier commanded then. “Yes, sir.” The woman nodded before looking at Raiden. “What’s your shoe size kid?” “Uh…” Raiden paused. “Right… in which units. We’ve got five around here don’t we? Just… give me a shoe.” She held out a hand and Raiden looked down at his feet. He felt a flush of embarrassment rise to his cheeks but he carefully leaned against the desk and raised his ankle over his other knee in a squat so he could delicately pull the rubber and fabric he’d fashioned into footwear off his foot. When he set it on the desk then a look crossed her face. Pity. He looked away, feeling even more humiliated with the position he was in. “Boots… and. Staff Sergeant mind if I get him some socks too?” “That’s a good idea.” Soon as he approved it the woman headed into the back. Raiden felt a heat grow within him as they talked about it. They all pitied him. They felt bad. He didn’t have proper shoes or socks. He was some… street rat. Some kid to them. Somehow this felt worse to him than if they’d been berating him and insulting him like the militia used to. His hands clenched at the straps of his backpack. “I bet your feet are tougher than mine kid. You’re a real badass, you know that?” Raiden looked up at the armored soldier in confusion when he said that. “What? I’m not.” “Yeah, you are.” The armored soldier nodded slowly. “Growing up around here can’t be easy. Between the war and everything else but you’re sticking it out. You didn’t have that pack when you entered the pawn shop. Do you work there?” “It’s… I’m trying out for it.” Raiden nodded slowly. “Gave me some deliveries to make and the coupon for the boots.” He felt quiet as he spoke. His emotions somewhat jumbled up between the confusion and embarrassment. “That’s nice of him. What’s your name anyway?” The soldier set a hand on his shoulder then applied just a little bit of pressure as if to help reassure him. “Raiden.” He answered with a light gulp. “Well Raiden, I’m sure you’re tougher than half my platoon. They bitch if they don’t get fruit punch in their rations and here you are hoofing it around town with shoes you made yourself. It’s admirable. Isn’t it specialist?” He looked over at the other soldier behind the desk. “Uh yes. Yes, staff sergeant it is admirable. Very-very admirable.” He nodded. Raiden felt a slightly different flush of embarrassment now. He didn’t know how to process compliments. “Thanks.” He nearly whispered as he looked at the floor. His one foot clad only in a thread bare dirty sock, his big toe sticking out of a hole in the front. “Raiden, since you’re here and you helped me out earlier, mind if I ask you something else? You seem pretty streetsmart. Maybe you’ll know.” Raiden looked up at the sarge wondering what the question was. “Little over a week ago a building exploded. Or… the top did. Hear anything about it? Any… word on the street?” “That tower over in the Ravex occupation zone?” He asked and the sarge nodded. “I mean… nothing really. I had heard it belonged to some… eccentric Kra’Kto’Sui. Lived in the pool up top. Uhm… just… rumours about crime… maybe drugs. People said he paid for info on stuff.” Raiden shrugged. “Remember kid, uh Raiden, just say no to drugs.” The soldier behind the desk added. Raiden looked at him with a confused frown. “If you’re offered drugs… just say no. Isn’t that right sarge?” “Yes… Yes specialist that is correct. Say no to drugs. Like all the amphetamines you do. Or the booze.” The specialist blinked at that. “Wait. How did this become about me? I only do mil-spec amphetamines sarge! Honest! And I only drink off duty! I follow all the stup-uuhhhh official guidelines! I don’t rape people or drive drunk or get into fights or anything! And… I am… well noted for… my… uuhhhhh… consistent drive to improve our relations with local Davari. I was… just speaking to Corporal Colbert about my efforts in fact staff sergeant.” The armored soldier released Raiden’s shoulder just so he could grip the front of his helmet visor and shake his head. “What?” “Here, see if these fit.” Raiden had been so focused on the sarge and the specialist that he didn’t notice the woman had returned until she was setting out some socks on the desk before him, and a pair of black boots that looked brand new. Raiden nervously reached out to take the socks and boots, almost expecting the soldiers to yank them away in a moment. Yet, they just watched him. Looking around he saw a chair in the corner and walked over to it, so he could sit down and try the boots and socks on. “Staff sergeant, by the way I didn’t mean to hassle the kid about the boots. It’s just the CO had that memo about mil-spec items-” The woman began to explain but the sage just raised a hand. “CYA. I understand corporal.” Raiden glanced up as he removed his other shoe and socks. Just pulling the full thick military socks over his feet made him shiver a little. They were so soft… Then he looked at the boots. They were… tall. Very tall. He also didn’t see any laces and was a bit confused. “Are those jump boots? Why does he get jump boots? We don’t get jump boots.” The specialist complained while Raiden looked the boots over. When he looked up both the woman and the sarge were staring at him. “Uh… I mean… those are very nice boots ki-Raiden. Hope you enjoy them.” “How do I put them on?” Raiden confessed then. “I don’t see laces.” “Just pull them on first.” The sarge instructed, so Raiden pulled one onto his right foot first. It felt… cushoiny. Unlike why he expected. “Now feel along the top for a little nub on either side and pinch them at the same time.” Raiden’s fingers carefully squeezed along the top lining of the boot to find the nubs set inside the fabric. Then he pinched them and suddenly the boot seemed to shrink around his foot feeling perfectly snug. “Whoa…” He muttered as the soldiers chuckled a bit. “Nice isn’t it? Sometimes they don’t skimp on gear. Sometimes. How does it feel?” Raiden looked down at his foot and hesitantly put weight onto his heel. It was hard to describe exactly. His foot felt wrapped up in a soft cushion and yet… supported at the same time. It was unlike anything he’d experienced. “Good? I think? I’ve never… had new shoes or… anything like this.” He confessed. “Put the other on, stand up, and take a few steps. Wiggle your toes. You want enough space so your toes aren’t crushed but not so much your foot slides around.” The sarge informed him. Raiden quickly pulled the other boot on and repeated the process to make the boot snug up. When he rose to his feet he nearly jumped up, it felt like there was such little weight on his feet, yet so much more… Just… better. After hesitating a moment he took a few steps and then slowly rose up onto the tips of his toes and back down as if trying to get a feel for being a couple centimeters taller thanks to the thick soles. “It feels amazing.” “Glad to hear it. Did you get more socks corporal Colbert?” The sarge asked. “Right yeah. I don’t care what you think you should be doing. Put on a new set every day. And please wash them regularly.” The woman handed him four more sets of socks. “Thanks… I… I don’t know what to say.” Raiden shrugged a little, feeling put on the spot. “Don’t worry about it Raiden. Just remember, if you hear anything or see anything we need to know come tell us. Crime, planned attacks, terrorists, anything like that at all. You come find me. Or, any of the human patrols here honestly. Doesn’t have to be void.” The sarge mentioned. “Aren’t you all void?” Raiden asked with a frown. “Didn’t you guys get approval to move into the joint occupation zone? Isn’t that why you’re here?” “We’re the ones who moved into the MP CPs, uh the police stations here yes. But this zone is patrolled by all members of the joint occupation forces. We’re in blue armor, the American marines are in desert camo and high vis vests, and the slavs are usually in urban camo and have SSR patches. Hard to miss.” Raiden squinted a moment. “You’re all different? Also… desert camo?” Some of the planet was arid, and there were a few deserts sure. But Neu Vieumau was coastal and not even close to desert. “Don’t ask me, it’s what they’re wearing. And yes, we’re all different. Plus there’s Ravex, and Kra’Kto’Sui, and of course the Rimjobs. Uuhhhh Rimmers. Shit. Reformed Imperial Military. Don’t call them Rimmers. They don’t like that.” Raiden knew that the joint occupation situation was complicated but he hadn’t realized just how complicated until now. Then again for the last several years his primary concern had been surviving his dad and passing the public education tests. “Okay. I’ll let you know.” He nodded. “But thanks again.” “Good luck getting your job.” The sarge added as Raiden nodded and headed out the door. He couldn’t help but move a bit faster down the hall and then once he got to the stairs he rushed up them as if his feet didn’t weigh a thing. He felt a little silly but he knew he had a big grin on his face. Real footwear! It was like a dream. “Guess we do give out boots.” Raiden looked over at the guy at the front desk and nodded. “Yes. They were very nice down there.” He added. “In requisition? If you say so.” The soldier made a face as if it was impossible to believe. Even so Raiden headed out of the police station… MP CP and back into the cluster of soldiers posted out front. “Hey kid, nice drop boots.” One commented as he walked out. “Off to fuck someone else’s sister in those?” “Yeah yours.” He was as surprised as the soldier no doubt by his immediate reply but around him the other soldiers all began to laugh. It was a bit of an instinct from dealing with comments by the militia before but now he felt bad. “Kid… my sister would eat you alive and not in a way you’d enjoy but you’re fucking welcome to it.” The soldier shook his head a moment as the others kept laughing. Raiden just gave a nervous grin and kept walking before anything worse happened. With that done he pulled out the paper that listed all the packages and their addresses. There was one just a few streets up. That old house that had been abandoned he thought. Maybe someone had moved in? Either way he began heading that direction and caught himself bouncing on the heels of his feet a little with his steps. His feet felt so good! The boots were amazing! Nothing could ruin his day now! “[A reckoning has come across the bilge rat!]” Raiden just barely had time to process Neff stepping out of the basement steps to his side, swinging a board at Raiden. Moving purely on reflex, Raiden jumped to the side, feeling the edge of the board tug at the sleeve of his shirt a moment. Lenk was across the street having been waiting in case Raiden had turned the other way. The soldiers were just around the corner, but Neff was between him and them, not to mention Lenk would be rushing over. So Raiden turned and began sprinting up the street. Neff’s full force swing with the board had shifted his momentum so Raiden had a second of lead to use. If he’d been in his old rags… He’d left them with the soldiers! He’d completely forgotten to pick them up! They were probably thinking he was a rude- “[Wrath knows no distance! Run and die tired coward!]” Right focus on running. Neff and Lenk were both older than him and taller. Raiden could outrun them with a swift burst of speed but every time he focused on just running straight they’d catch up to him eventually. He could already hear their footsteps racing behind him though he didn’t dare spare a glance. Instead he broke hard left down the alley behind the Tviraki restaurant. There were always plenty of leftover crates down there. Sprinting past some empty boxes he grabbed the edges and yanked to tumble them in Neff’s path while he looked at the big fence up ahead. Normally he’d never make it but in these boots… He could jump up the trash can onto the dumpster and then roll over the top of the fence and drop down onto the dumpster on the other side. He could do it. He had to do it. “[Nowhere to go you cancerous runt!]” He really had to do it. Raiden jumped up onto the trash can, and felt it start to tilt with his weight as he stepped off it to charge across the thankfully closed dumpster before leaping as high as he could muster. Rather than roll over the top of the fence however he was shocked to find he cleared the top of the fence easily. Though his added height meant he was coming down on the far edge of the dumpster, not the middle… And it was open, not closed. His eyes went wide with horror as he seemed to be coming straight down into a pile of rotten food scraps and whatever else the restaurant had thrown out. The stench wafted up into his nostrils even as he descended. Desperately he waved his arms, spinning them in the air as if to fly, or just get that tiny bit of extra momentum. Thankfully this seemed to work as his feed landed on the edge of the dumpster. He wanted to shout in victory, yet the shock of his landing transferred up to his knees which buckled a bit and had to quickly lean forward, sloppily rolling forward as he tumbled down into a cluster of trash cans. Having his fall broken by metal trash cans was hardly ideal as he rolled off them to the ground, his shoulder and ankle immediately groaning in pain. Yet, he had made it over and he looked back at Neff on the other side of the fence obviously surprised. “Hah! [Scum sucking parasite!]” Raiden did his best to hide his pain as he raised his middle finger at the bully chasing after him. Yet Neff was not easily deterred. He jumped up onto the dumpster and got ready to hop over the top of the fence after Raiden. “Oh shit…” He turned and quickly ran off down the alley before Neff could drop down. His ankle groaned a bit harder but he pushed through and kept running. The house was just up ahead. What good was that going to do him?! They were just going to beat his ass on the doorstep! But he had no other way to try and get away. So he just kept running. On the far side of the alleyway he looked to his right and sprinted as best he could to the structure. It had a brick wall around it to isolate it from the neighbors. The three story structure looked ominous, with blacked out windows and a bone white paint along the old wooden structure. Wrought iron spikes lining the wall, and the gate leading in was bent into the shape of the Paragon of Wrath Bioujar Dooritay. One didn’t usually want to mess with the disciples of Dooritay. But Raiden didn’t have a choice as he frantically opened the gate and rushed inside then up the steps to the door. His finger hammered on the doorbell as he heard it beeping and buzzing from the other side while he looked back in fear as Neff, then Lenk rushed up to the gate. Raiden turned, pressing his back to the door as he watched. Why had he come here? He was so screwed… Lenk took a step forward but Neff grabbed his shoulder. “[No. That crazy lady lives here.]” The two thugs glanced at one another for a moment, then back at Raiden, considering their options. “[You have to get lucky every time Raiden! We only have to get lucky once!]” Neff threatened before they backed up. Raiden felt the door behind his back start to open and he quickly leaned forward so he didn’t fall backwards when the door was opened. Turning around just as it opened he was faced with a dark figure silhouetted against the light from inside, his eyes taking a moment to adjust. First he noticed the horns, which meant a Davari. They were rather wide too, no doubt bulky with muscles. Then his eyes went to some kind of claw weapon in their right hand. He was so screwed. But then the figure stepped forward into view. “Oh deary me are you alright? I saw those young ruffians chasing you.” Raiden was face to face with an old Davari woman. The hair around her temples was grey, and her horns had begun to bleach white with age. She was wearing an oversized shirt with sunflowers on it, an old set of sweatpants, and some big rubber galoshes on her feet. The claw thing she was holding in one hand was matched by a small digging trowel in the other. Also, had she spoken to him in English? Had he imagined that? “Uh… thank you. Uhm…” His eyes did return to the claw she held. Noticing his stare she looked down and then held it up. “Oh! My claw? It’s just for gardening work. I’m sorry if I gave you a fright, you caught me just before I was going to tend to my garden. I only moved in recently so I need to get the bulbs in and get them growing! Bring some life to this little place.” Her big bright smile was comforting. “Now, did you just try to seek shelter here young man?” “Oh uhm… no. I uh… Package.” Raiden’s breath was a bit ragged as his body seemed to catch up with what was happening. Slipping the pack off his shoulders he opened it up and rummaged around to pull out the box for her. “Oh! You’re from that pawn shop? Wonderful. It’s my heart medication. The ticker just can’t handle the church orgies like it used to.” She let out a deep laugh that filled the air even as Raiden blushed at her comment. “Could I… get water?” He asked next. “Oh yes, you must be tired from running! Yes yes, come on in.” She waved him in then, setting the claw and little trowel down on a table near the door. Looking around the room he noticed a lot of paintings that were splashes of colors that didn’t seem to form anything but still had a… happy vibe to them? He also noticed lots of pictures of flowers and plants and the old lady standing in front of various buildings or landmarks. He noticed a lot from Partizania Rai, the tropical resort world. There were also lots of pictures and paintings of cartoonish, happy animals. Cats, dogs, Vukos, Quibs, Lormites, even some kind of bushy tailed orange thing he’d never seen. She led him into a kitchen that was as big as the apartment he lived in and waved for him to sit at a giant wooden table. “Would you like some water sweetie?” She asked and he nodded as she grabbed a glass covered in dancing bunnies and filled it from a spout in her fridge. He blinked as he looked at her giant fridge. It actually had an ice and water dispenser on the front! He’d seen it in vids but never in person. “Now, you just sit a moment and catch your breath sweetie. I’m just going to make sure it’s the right medication. Is that okay?” As she asked that Raiden nodded and grabbed the glass, gulping at the water as he suddenly found himself far more thirsty than he realized. The old Davari lady just smiled and took the box as she shuffled off into another room. Agnivra frowned as she looked at the box in her hand. Everything looked to be in order except a small hand written note just under the label. “Exceptional Service Guaranteed! No good neighbor is beyond our reach! Check out our web hotline service immediately for a special vibrant offer! These offers aren’t dreams! Awaken to the truth, of our low low deals!” To any normal person it would just be a slightly odd ad for the business. But to particular people it held a very different meaning. Pulling out a slate she returned to the Pawn Shop’s website. Scanning the page she then clicked on a very small icon that nearly looked like just part of the background. A customer review template popped up asking her to fill in a username. Ignoring the usual suggestions she quickly typed in a set of keywords and then hit the button to talk to a rep. There was a delay and then a message popped up. “Reliqua non est aeternum.” “Ooohh…” She bit her lower lip a moment as she scratched her head. “Nemo nostrum est quam ira.” She typed in and sent. Then immediately followed up. “Quam irae nemo nostrum.” Was that it? “Listen, no one is beyond our wrath. I can’t remember all the phrases exactly. Sierra Triumvirate Helios Roulette 34275. Sleeper activated.” She was worried what would happen for a moment but then let out a sigh of relief when the next message popped up. “I doubt my Latin is any better. Welcome back to the fold agent. You’ve been gone quite a while. You’re not due to retire yet. I’ll overlook any lapses in service provided you understand that work is to be done immediately.” Agnivra looked back at the door, knowing the young man was still in her kitchen. “Am I to kill the messenger?” “No.” She let out another sigh of relief. She hated killing the young. It was bad form. “Observe his performance. If anyone is hindering him determine if they’re hostile agents or just local noise.” “Two locals were spotted chasing him to this residence.” She returned. “Then research them. If they’re working for anyone else, deal with them.” Came the reply. “Specific termination, or dealer’s choice?” She sent back. “Dealer’s choice.” She thought about that a moment. “Good, my garden is in need of fertilizer. Additional objectives at this time? Handler ID?” Who was it who had called her back after all this time? How had they found her? “No further details. Agent Autumn, I hope you remember how to kill. Handler out.” The message board vanished. “Hhhmmm…” Angivra rubbed her chin. They were being coy. “Young man. Would you like something to eat? I bet you’re hungry!” She tucked the slate away and shuffled back towards the kitchen with a big smile. She’d see what the boy knew. If she was being awakened then she wanted to know if she was killing for a cause, or a criminal. Either way she had a feeling her garden would thrive in this city. Chapter 4
And suddenly, as I looked around, a crowd of people surrounded me. I was at the craps table, up $200. The die were hot that night. The people were cheering me on. “Lucky 7’s!”, they hollered. I cast the die one final time and... Hold on hold on, before I get to the good stuff let me take you back to where this really began. It all really started about a month or two before. A good buddy of mine, Jimmy, had bought a poker set. You know, nothing too fancy. Jimmy was a simple guy, we’d invite the guys over to his garage, sip bourbon, hack cigs, and throw in some logs. Some nights, when there was more whiskey in us than water, we’d wager some money. Nothing big, you know? Just maybe a $10-$20 buy in. I was a decent player I’d say. For me though, it wasn’t really about the money. I enjoyed the thrill of it, watching the river turn, going all in on a bluff when all I would have is a dirty pair of 2’s. Stuff of that sort. Soon we got into things like blackjack, and eventually we bought some old rickety roulette board that could barely spin on its axis. But it worked, none the less. I enjoyed watching the ball dance between red and black when I’d have some $25 placed on red. I always loved red, that color never did me wrong. Things continued like this for the next month. It wasn’t long before I was up a few bucks, and I started to get it in me that it was time to hit the big leagues. There was a casino in our small town not too far from where we lived. And I had a shitty old fake from Missouri. Birth year was 98, and the name was Phil. I don’t know why, but I always liked that name. So I headed to the gambling joint to dance in the devil’s playground. Upon my arrival, I was bombarded with bright lights, sweet aromas wafting from the diners, and a feeling of excitement arose within me. I wanted to fit in, so I wore a leather jacket, white washed jeans, and my nicest pair of boots. I handed the chump at the front desk my fake, and to my surprise I breezed right by. I was in. Now from the snippets of a book I had bought, and a handful of youtube videos, I learned craps gives you the best odds. So I decided to go to the craps table. I started off small. $5 bets, $10, and before I knew it I was up quite a bit. People started to watch me, enjoying this young kid run it up at the table. The old men liked my spirit, and in between roles I had some casino skanks flirting with me and offering me drinks. I was having the time of my life. I was up $200 in the blink of an eye, when all I came there with was a crumpled 20 and a dream. I decided to place a $100 bet on 7’s, I was feeling myself. I was shaking up the die, ready for a roll. People were excited, and hell, even the worker at the table was enjoying it. Then, as I cast the die, a hand snatched me by my arm. I heard a voice say, “Phil, huh? Yeah, you’re coming with me.” I turned, and it was a state trooper with black shades on.
[TRADING PSYCHOLOGY] Nobody ever takes a trade thinking it's going to be a loser
I spent several hours this past week coaching traders at my prop firm. And something caught my attention… Every single one of these traders needed help with the same thing. It has to do with what I call the “reverse” gambler’s fallacy. And it’s something many traders struggle with. Today, I’ll show you how to get this common obstacle under control… and start earning more consistent returns year after year… What Most New Traders Get Wrong The obstacle I’m talking about is trading psychology. It’s a very broad term used to describe the emotional side of trading. Almost all new traders believe the most important part of trading is being able to analyze markets like a pro. On the surface, this logic makes sense. After all, if you can reliably forecast which direction to take on a trade, the money should take care of itself… right? What these novices don’t yet understand is that something special happens the moment you commit your money to a trade… You start feeling things. Whether it’s fear, excitement, anxiety, or a mix of all three, no one is immune to these emotions. And they can wreak havoc on even the best planned trades. You may be able to call the direction, the timing, and the target price to perfection… But it can all be for nothing if you are unable to stick to your trade plan. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen traders plan out a great trade… But then ended up somehow losing money, or not being in the market when the move they’d forecast played out. So how do you beat your emotions to become a better, more consistent trader? It comes down to the three key parts of trading. Let me explain… The Three-Legged Stool of Trading I think of trading as a three-legged stool. Your methodology/strategy for picking trades is the first leg. Your risk- and trade-management strategy is the second leg. And the third leg is your trading psychology. In my experience, most traders focus on the first leg (strategy and methodology), and they neglect the other two legs. But the stool needs all three legs to stand on its own. Over the years, I’ve honed my own proprietary method to develop well-rounded traders. Here’s what I’ve learned… The first fundamental building block of a profitable trader is to establish a proven strategy/methodology you can use to identify good trades. In my experience, everything follows from this foundation. How you manage your risk and your trades should be determined by the strategies you employ. Your trading psychology likewise will be influenced by your approach to risk and trade management. I’ve seen other trading instructors assign arbitrary percentage values to the three legs of the trading stool. Usually these values are divided up like this: 30% to the level of importance on the analytical strategy, 30% to risk and trade management, and 40% to trading psychology. But I don’t believe that any one leg is more important than the other. And yet I’ve found that, more often than not, traders neglect risk/trade management and psychology. So how do you stop neglecting these two important areas to become a more well-rounded trader? That’s where our reverse gambler’s fallacy comes in… Time to Ditch the Casino Mentality There is one block that seems to stop traders from progressing to working on the other two legs. That is, they don’t know how to flip the switch from thinking about their trades as individual trades in a vacuum… to thinking about them as a collection that relies on a statistical edge to net a profit. Most traders run into this problem at some point in their careers. And if you’re frustrated with your trading right now, chances are you may be struggling with this, too. It’s known as the casino mentality. And it’s the same mindset that amateur gamblers will take with them into Caesars Palace or the Bellagio. It doesn’t matter if they’re seated at the blackjack table or standing over the roulette wheel. Most gamblers believe that the hand or spin they are about to play is the opportunity to hit a winner. After all, if the roulette wheel has landed four black spins in a row, the next one surely must be red, right? In reality, the chances of the roulette ball landing on black or red is even, at about 47.4% each. This means each spin is independent of the last. This is also known as the gambler’s fallacy. What’s interesting is that I’ve observed a kind of reverse gambler’s fallacy from many traders… This occurs when a trader, who does in fact have a statistically proven strategy, goes on a losing streak… And then instead of continuing to trust their strategy, they abandon it altogether. How to Avoid the “Reverse” Gambler’s Fallacy I saw this logical fallacy in effect this past week during one of my coaching calls. The trader I was coaching had recently taken a technical setup that simply did not work. He was convinced he had done something wrong and wanted my help in improving his analysis. But his analysis was great. He didn’t do anything wrong in identifying the setup, which was textbook in nature. But the setup looked so good that, when it resulted in a loss, the trader was convinced that he was the problem… That he did something wrong. The lesson I imparted to him, which I now want to pass on to you, is this very simple truth… Nobody, and I mean nobody, ever takes a trade thinking it is going to be a loser. Every single trade you take will be because you thought it would make you money. Despite this feeling of confidence, out of 100 trades, you’d be lucky to win 50% of them. That’s why a great trader is not defined by what percentage of their trades end up as winners or losers. A great trader is defined by whether or not they are net profitable after taking 100 trades. If you win roughly as many trades as you lose, but your winners make you 2x or 3x the amount of money you give back on your losers, you will end up with a nice profit at the end of the year. Remember, nobody ever takes a trade thinking it is not going to work out. This is why it is absolutely crucial to abandon the idea of thinking about your trades as individual trades. Instead, start taking a more data-driven, statistical approach to your trading. What do I mean by that? Keeping a longer-term perspective on your trading is the key to longevity in this business. What your numbers look like over the next 100, 200, or 300 trades is far more relevant and important than losing your cool because you lost a handful of trades in a row. Of course, to be able to make it to 300 trades, you must have a rock-solid risk management plan in place. I don’t see gamblers at the casino take a professional approach very often. It’s rare to see someone bet small and stick to the odds on every play. It’s far more common for gamblers to be all over the place with the size of their bets. They may start off betting small, but after winning a couple of hands of blackjack, they get overconfident and take an outsized bet. Sure enough, on that next hand they go bust while the house just happens to hit blackjack. This is how casinos make money from gamblers. And it’s how the market parts amateur traders from their capital. No doubt, it takes a lot of hard work and discipline to make the transition from amateur to professional. But, I promise you, the rewards make it all worthwhile. Until next time. Regards,
And suddenly, as I looked around, a crowd of people surrounded me. I was at the craps table, up $200. The die were hot that night. The people were cheering me on. “Lucky 7’s!”, they hollered. I cast the die one final time and... Hold on hold on, before I get to the good stuff let me take you back to where this really began. It all really started about a month or two before. A good buddy of mine, Jimmy, had bought a poker set. You know, nothing too fancy. Jimmy was a simple guy, we’d invite the guys over to his garage, sip bourbon, hack cigs, and throw in some logs. Some nights, when there was more whiskey in us than water, we’d wager some money. Nothing big, you know? Just maybe a $10-$20 buy in. I was a decent player I’d say. For me though, it wasn’t really about the money. I enjoyed the thrill of it, watching the river turn, going all in on a bluff when all I would have is a dirty pair of 2’s. Stuff of that sort. Soon we got into things like blackjack, and eventually we bought some old rickety roulette board that could barely spin on its axis. But it worked, none the less. I enjoyed watching the ball dance between red and black when I’d have some $25 placed on red. I always loved red, that color never did me wrong. Things continued like this for the next month. It wasn’t long before I was up a few bucks, and I started to get it in me that it was time to hit the big leagues. There was a casino in our small town not too far from where we lived. And I had a shitty old fake from Missouri. Birth year was 98, and the name was Phil. I don’t know why, but I always liked that name. So I headed to the gambling joint to dance in the devil’s playground. Upon my arrival, I was bombarded with bright lights, sweet aromas wafting from the diners, and a feeling of excitement arose within me. I wanted to fit in, so I wore a leather jacket, white washed jeans, and my nicest pair of boots. I handed the chump at the front desk my fake, and to my surprise I breezed right by. I was in. Now from the snippets of a book I had bought, and a handful of youtube videos, I learned craps gives you the best odds. So I decided to go to the craps table. I started off small. $5 bets, $10, and before I knew it I was up quite a bit. People started to watch me, enjoying this young kid run it up at the table. The old men liked my spirit, and in between roles I had some casino skanks flirting with me and offering me drinks. I was having the time of my life. I was up $200 in the blink of an eye, when all I came there with was a crumpled 20 and a dream. I decided to place a $100 bet on 7’s, I was feeling myself. I was shaking up the die, ready for a roll. People were excited, and hell, even the worker at the table was enjoying it. Then, as I cast the die, a hand snatched me by my arm. I heard a voice say, “Phil, huh? Yeah, you’re coming with me.” I turned, and it was a state trooper with black shades on.
The American roulette wheel is supposedly a balanced wheel. All odd/even, red/black, high/low, etc. numbers are evenly spread out throughout the wheel. Here’s some tips that may help you decide when placing bets. Some of y’all may already know this but for those who didn’t these are for you: 1.) Be wary of the table you’re playing on. Roulette tables have left-handed, and right-handed tables. 1st Column and 3rd Column are inverted depending on the table you’re playing on. Not paying attention, many times I placed a bet on 10 thinking it was 12. 2.) 3rd Column section: contains 8 red numbers and 4 black numbers. 3.) 2nd Column section: contains 8 black numbers and 4 red numbers. 4.) Odd section: contains 10 red and 8 black numbers. 5.) Even section: contains 10 black and 8 red numbers. 6.) Odd numbers and even numbers are paired in groups of two on the wheel. 7.) High numbers, and low numbers are paired in groups of two on the wheel. 8.) When 00 is at twelve o’clock: low-odd + high-even numbers cover left side of wheel, while high-odd + low-even numbers cover the right. 9.) know what number is across (mirrored/opposite). Simply add 1 or minus 1 from the winning number. If the winning number is an odd number add 1, or if the winning number is an even number minus 1. Example: winning number is 33. Adding 1 equals 34. 33 and 34 are directly opposite. Winning number is 22. 22 minus 1 equals 21. 10.) If you’re an outside better that likes to place bets on red/black, try combination bets and maximize your profits. Cheers and Good Luck
I live in a small mining town in the mountains of Colorado. Someone is building a massive casino nearby, Pictures Included
I grew up in a small mountain town named Eureka. It was founded in the late 1800s during the gold rush, but after the mines dried up the town began its slow descent into decay. Half the houses are empty or abandoned now. You can see a picture of the kind of houses here in Eureka: Abandoned House Non-abandoned House When a massive construction project began nearby, it was the talk of the town for weeks. Why would they build something in a sleepy dying town like Eureka? It wasn’t until my sister Selene talked to a few construction workers that we discovered they were building a casino. A casino up in the mountains, over two hours away from Denver. None of us could understand why they’d chosen here of all places. After a few months of work, the casino was done. I took a picture of the town with the completed casino in the background to the right. The ten-story-structure sticks out like a sore thumb off in the distance. Town+Casino After the casino opened, they hired a few dozen members of the town, offering high paying jobs to work as dealers or cleaning staff. I was already employed as a firefighter, but my sister Selene got a job as a blackjack dealer. She’s a widow with two young kids, so the paycheck was a real lifesaver. Still, something about the situation seemed too good to be true. The jobs over there paid far too well, and the management was far too accommodating. The fire station where I work is located high on a hill overlooking the town, so I began watching the casino from a distance each day. I had initially thought that the casino was located in a terrible location, but I was apparently wrong. True, Eureka was hours from any major city, but despite that, a bus full of people arrived every morning and left every evening. One night I was over at my parent’s house and had dinner with Selene and her kids. I asked her about her experience as a dealer. “It’s Ok,” she said. “Just a little boring I guess.” “Boring?” I asked. “I’m surprised you don’t have your hands full.” “Why’s that?” she asked. “It’s like you said, Eureka’s too small. I never have people playing cards. The casino is almost always completely empty.” I wasn’t sure what to make of that. If the place was always empty, what happened to the people who I’d seen arriving on buses? “I’ve been keeping an eye on the building,” I said. “A bus full of people typically arrives around 9 AM every day.” “Really?” she asked, looking confused. “If that’s true, I’ve never seen them. “I can see it from the fire station,” I said. “If you head out for a smoke break at 9 AM, you’ll probably see them arriving.” “Interesting,” she said. “I’ll do that. If they’re being processed for their organs or something, I’ll let you know.” She laughed. “Har har,” I said sarcastically. The next night she sent me a text calling me over. When I arrived, she was nearly breathless with excitement. “Orin, You were right,” she said. “A big group of people did arrive, but they didn’t walk into my part of the casino. Instead, they all walked into an elevator at the back of the building. I’m not sure where that goes.” She looked thoughtful. “It was weird. They looked… How can I say it? Desperate? Something about the whole situation was very off. I’m gonna check out the elevator tomorrow.” I told her to be careful, though, to be honest, I was excited to hear about what she discovered. When I visited my parent’s house the next night, I found her two kids there alone. They told me that Selene had never returned from work. I called all her friends, then all our neighbors, but no one had seen her since she left for work that morning. Our conversations regarding the casino flooded my mind, then a plan began to form. Early the next morning I walked across town in my nicest pair of jeans and a button-up shirt. I pushed through the door to the casino and saw that Selene wasn’t lying. The place was all but deserted. Three dozen slot machines crowded the walls surrounding a few tables interspersed throughout the floor of the casino. The only players in the whole building were Bob and Donald, two locals. I walked up to a nearby table where Bridget, a girl I’d gone to high school with, was shuffling cards. She broke into a grin when she saw me. “Hey Orin, you here for a few rounds of blackjack?” “I wish,” I said. “No, I’m here to ask about Selene. She never made it home last night.” Bridget’s expression darkened. “Really? Have you asked around?” “I already called around. Have you seen her?” She shook her head. “No, our schedules rarely line up. I’ll be sure to let you know if I--” Her eyes focused on something behind me, and she cut herself off. I turned around to see the casino’s pit boss watching us both. He was a tall thin man in an impeccably clean black suit. When I turned back towards Bridget, she was looking down at the table and shuffling cards absent-mindedly. “Well, if you hear anything, let me know,” I said. She nodded, so I turned around and headed for the pit boss. I stuck out my hand. The temperature of his hand was so hot that I had to pull my hand away after a few seconds. “Have… have you seen my sister Selene?” I asked. “She hasn’t been seen since her shift here yesterday.” He smiled. “Sir, this floor is for players. You’re more than welcome to head to the tellers for chips, but barring that I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.” I stared at him for a long second before stalking towards the door. When I looked back, he was talking with Bridget. I checked my watch. 8:55 AM, just as I’d planned. I walked around the back of the building and waited as the morning bus pulled around the building. I waited for the telltale hiss of the opening doors and the sound of people descending before I rounded the corner and joined the crowd. None of them paid any particular attention to me as I walked with them into the casino. The crowd walked through a side door down a hallway to an elevator. Small groups of people entered the elevator as the rest of us waited for our turn. I shot a glance at the casino patrons, surprised at their diversity. There seemed to be people from all different countries and ethnicities. I heard one speaking Japanese and another speaking what sounded like an African language. My turn came along with a few other patrons in the elevator. A sickly woman hobbled into the elevator beside me carrying an IV that was still connected to one of her veins. We piled in and rode up to the top. The elevator rose for a few long seconds. I wasn’t sure what I would find, but I steeled myself for something horrible. The elevator’s speaker let out a TING, then the doors opened. We all walked out onto what looked like a standard casino. Another few dozen slot machines ringed the walls, but on this floor, they were almost all occupied by customers. I took in the scene, confused at why they’d have a ground floor that was almost completely empty when this place was almost-- Selene was dealing cards at a nearby table. I jogged over and sat down at an open seat. None of the players around me paid me much attention. “Selene!” I said. “Are you OK? Did you spend the night here last night?” Her eyes were glassy and confused. She looked up at me with a dumb expression and didn’t respond to my question. “Selene?” I asked. “What’s your bet?” she asked me. “This table is for blackjack players only.” “I…” I trailed off, looking at the players around me. None of them were betting with chips of any kind. “What’s the minimum bet?” I asked. “Three years,” she responded. “Three years then,” I said, not knowing what that referred to. Selene nodded, then began dealing cards. I shot a look down at my hand. King and a 9. Selene dealt out cards for herself, showing a 9. I stood, then leaned forward again. “Should I call the police? Are you--” “Congratulations,” she said tonelessly. An almost impossibly warm hand grabbed my shoulder. I spun to see the pit boss I’d spoken to earlier. He gave an impressed smile. “Orin, was it? I’m impressed, truly. Would you mind if I had a word with you?” I shot a look back at Selene who was dealing the next round of cards. Then I got to my feet, balling my hands into fists. “What did you do to her?” The pit boss clasped his hands behind his back. “Nothing more, and nothing less than what I’m going to do to you. That is, offer you the chance to play.” “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” The pit boss nodded his head towards a nearby slot machine. A woman in a wheelchair pulled a lever and watched the flashing numbers spin. They exploded in a cacophony of sirens and flashing lights. “WINNER WINNER WINNER!” The machine screeched. The woman in the wheelchair put her feet on the ground and stood up on a pair of wobbly legs that had clearly never been used before. “As in any other casino,” the pit boss said, “you must wager for the chance to win.” “She... won the use of her legs?” I asked, feeling light-headed. “Wait,” I said. “I played blackjack just now. ‘Three years,’ Selene told me. What does ‘three years’ mean?” I asked. “Three years of life, of course. Did you win?” My mouth felt dry. “I-- Yes, I won.” He smiled warmly. “Congratulations. I hope you enjoy them. I can tell you from personal experience that watching the decades pass is a bore. Give it some time and you’ll be back to spend them.” I watched the pit boss’s face. He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than me, and I was in my early thirties. I looked around at the casino. No one was playing with chips of any kind. “So what?” I asked. “I won years of life. That woman won the use of her legs. What else can a person win here?” “Oh, almost anything. They can win almost anything you can imagine.” A cold feeling settled in my stomach. “And what do they wager?” His eyes flashed with greed. “Almost anything. They can wager almost anything you can possibly imagine. Anything equal in value to the item they want in return.” He nodded towards a nearby roulette table. A man stood by the table, cradling his hands. “Another finger,” he called out. He only had three fingers remaining on his left hand. As I watched, the ball came to a stop, and another finger disappeared from his left hand. The pit boss extended his hands. “Feel free to try any of our games. Bet and win whatever you’d like.” He reached out and snatched my hand. A feeling of intense warmth passed up my arm to my chest. “There,” he said. “I’ve even given you some house money to get you started. An extra decade of life, on me.” I ripped my hand away, staring at him in horror. Then I looked back at Selene. Something clicked in my mind. “You offered her the chance to play. What did she want?” I asked. “Her husband,” the pit boss said. “Quite the sad story. He died two years ago. She wanted him brought back to her.” “What did she wager?” I asked. “She wanted the chance to win a soul, the most valuable object in existence. I’m sure you can imagine what she needed to wager for the chance to win it. What she wagered is unimportant. The important question is: What do you want, Orin?” I stared at Selene with a flat expression. “I’m sure you can imagine.” His eyes flashed with greed again. “How wonderful. The casino could always make use of another dealer. Feel free to make your wager at any one of our games; I’ll be eagerly awaiting the results of your night. Oh, and do take advantage of our waitresses. We always supply food and drink for ‘high rollers’.” He walked away. I spent the next few hours trying to decide which game to play. I was going to be wagering my soul, so I wanted the highest chance possible. Slots and roulette were out. I’d done some reading online about counting cards, so I figured that blackjack gave me the best odds. I walked up to Selene’s table and sat down. “Bet?” she asked with that same toneless voice. “Three years,” I said. I spent the next hour or so doing my best to remember how to count cards. I knew that low cards added one to my count and high cards decreased it by one, but the casino used three decks. I had read something about how that was supposed to change my calculation, but I couldn’t quite remember how. Every time I won a hand, I cursed myself for not putting everything on the line. Every time I lost, I breathed a prayer of thanks that I’d waited. And all the while, I kept track of the count. I had lost fifteen years of life when the count finally reached +5. “Bet?” Selene asked. “I wager my soul so you can be free,” I said. The table around me fell silent. Selene’s eyes flickered, but she showed no other emotion as she dealt the cards. I watched my first card, punching the air in excitement when I saw a Jack. My excitement turned to ash when my second card was a four. Fourteen. I looked at her hand. One card was facedown, but the faceup card was a King. I swore loudly, staring down at my hands. “Hit?” she asked. The entire table was silently watching me. “Hit,” I said, not looking down. The table erupted in cheers. I looked down to see a 7 atop my two other cards. 21. Blackjack. I looked at Selene who flipped over her facedown card to reveal a 9. 19. I won. The glassy look left her eyes immediately. She looked around in surprise, then her eyes locked on mine. “Orin?” she asked, then almost immediately began to cry. The entire casino broke out in cheers. I grabbed her hand and headed for the elevator. The doors had begun to close when the pit boss reached out with a hand to stop them. “Congratulations,” he said, beaming. He seemed to be honestly excited. “Shouldn’t you be upset?” I asked. “Not at all. Casinos love it when we have big winners. It inspires the other players to make larger bets. I imagine I’ll gain two or three dealers before the night is through from your performance.” “Great,” I said flatly. “Now let us go.” “Not yet,” he said. “You didn’t just win, Orin. You got a blackjack. And blackjack pays out 1.5 times your bet. You won your sister’s soul and more.” I stared, not sure what to say. “What are you saying? I won half a soul extra?” The pit boss grinned wildly. “Just remember what I said. You’ll find living for decades and decades to be a boring experience. After a few centuries, you’ll be back to gamble that half a soul away. Congratulations!” He removed his hand, and the elevator doors slammed shut. I helped Selene back to her house. Her children were relieved. I watched them cry, then moved into the kitchen to start making dinner. It’s been a few days since that experience. The casino is still out there, and buses full of people still arrive. I… I cut my hand pretty bad a few days later. When I checked it an hour later, it had already healed, no scar or anything. I’m not sure exactly what I won at that casino, but there’s no way I’m ever going back. Interested in more? Support me on Patreon at any level! My Patreon backers will get early access to my horror stories, free copies of my horror novels, and an exclusive story each month. Become a Patreon supporter here: https://www.patreon.com/WorchesterStreet Thank you to my lovely Patreon Backers: Brooke Tang Private Castle Lilith Scyther Peter Jamison MADman611 Lily Bain Vivienne Hoai Claire Shabbeer Hassan Maranda Mae Madeline Budd Lauren Ashley Luna Vaughan Stephanie Jennings, Krystin Molina and my new Patreon backers, Carter B, Yazz Ledgister, and an especial thanks to newest backer Christina! Your support is invaluable!
Deserted is a reality show that never aired. And now that I know that my life is falling apart. Part 2 of 2.
Part 1 I didn't know what to do. I was wracked with terror. My body felt like it was imploding upon itself, a breathing dying star. Someone had been in my home. Someone had been watching me. Do you know the feeling of terror that comes with being watched? It's hardwired into the back of our brains. It's predator and prey; eat or be eaten. It's the most primal nerve and mine was left to the air, raw and burning. And I didn't know why. Not really anyways. I took a picture of the paper left for me, to document it. I didn't want to see it disappear, I wanted proof that I wasn't as nervous as I seemed. Or that if I was nervous, I had a damn good reason to be. I called the cops, again. They were fast, of course. They always are, but when they got there, they were little more than curious about my scripted life. "But nothing else out of place?" "Well, no." "And this was on the coffee table?" "Anyone else have access to your home?" "No." "Doors were locked?" "Well, like I said—" "Right, right. Backdoor is usually unlocked, got it." They took their notes and nodded along, empathetic to a fault—the likely result of a weekend course. They searched the house. They bagged the note. "We'll keep a patrol car in the area tonight," one said. "Call if you see anything strange. And make sure to lock both your doors tonight." I nodded, as if I hadn't thought of that. And then, I was alone again. I looked at the clock. It'd been five minutes, passed in a breath. The house felt alien to me. Not my house, I had to remind myself, my home—it felt so utterly foreign. It was a perverse representation of myself, of my sense and belief. Everything felt like it was moved two inches to the right, then two inches back again, all while I wasn't looking. Does that make sense? It had the inescapable feeling that everything had been picked up and put down with surgical precision. There was the distinct feeling of the other, everywhere. And that's when I decided to watch the tape again. Why? Because, I had the feeling that if everything had been touched, so had the tape. It was a comfort food, in the end. It was dull, dated—it was like a window into a simpler time. And now, even without ever seeing the show, I knew I wanted to immerse myself in it, as a means to escape. So, I went to my stock room. I smelled the T-shirt. I reminded myself that I was about to improve my life. I took the VHS tape out of its sleeve. I looked at its cover. I dropped it to the carpet. I screamed; I thrashed about as if I were covered in ants; I grabbed my keys; I got in my car. And I drove like a motherfucker. FOR PROMOTIONAL USE ONLY had been crossed out with black sharpie, replaced with two crude drawings: a ball of wriggling bodies, and a man with one arm. It meant nothing to me. How could it? But I felt my insides drop like I was on a roller coaster and I knew the only thing I could do was leave. Burn it to the ground, I thought. Raze the fucking building. Fuck everything I've ever earned. Fuck it to death. And there I was: a dark, lonely highway; driving to nowhere; stars bright above me. Two headlights behind me. My foot was pressing down on the gas. I was hurtling forward. I was buzzing through the future. I was slashing through time. The lights behind me got brighter and I realized that whoever was behind me was accelerating too. The road was curving, the sky was so beautiful, I couldn't think straight. I just wanted to get away. I felt like a mare being saddled. I was bucking. I was huffing. I was ready to put a hoof through a cowboy’s face. So, I watched the needle climb. I watched the trees pass beside me. I saw road markers become blurs. Then, I did something really stupid. I turned off my headlights. I had it in my head that the only way to escape my pursuer was to become invisible. I didn't think that the car behind me could still see me, with his own headlights. I wasn't thinking at all. I was making desperate moves. I also decided I would not brake. I was determined to be invisible, to not let him see anything of my vehicle. No red lights. Just speed, dangerous speed. I was looking for an exit. Somewhere I could veer off, suddenly, disappear into the black. Who was I? What was I doing? Who does this? But the car behind me, just two yellow unblinking eyes, kept following me. And I was more desperate and afraid than I'd ever been. I squinted into the dark, hoping my pursuers lights would light the reflective lettering on a sign. My eyes were adjusting. I was feeling stupid, afraid of my own decisions. I'd been catching the curves by luck and the faint glow of the headlights in front of me. This was roulette. This was stupid— My eyes turned to slits. Exit 1 mile. I let out a yell, a battle cry. The yellow eyes behind me were closing in, they were coming but soon, I could escape, if I could just slowly veer— BAM! I let go of the wheel. I closed my eyes. I started to pray. That's when I left the road. That's when I was flying through the air. That's when I felt my body go weightless. The airbag went off, my head bounced back and forth between my seat and this new cushion that hid so secretly in my car. And behind me, for a brief moment, I saw a car pass, and keep passing. I was dizzy. My head hurt. I looked up at the stars through my buckled windshield. Lines of icy cracks divided the stars from the blackness between them. I couldn't think to do much else but cry. I unbuckled myself and tried to remember if my car was a newer model or not. I could remember talking to the salesperson, about the features. I was between two models. Which one had the automatic reporting? As I fell to the cool grass, I really hoped I didn't cheap out. I was in a stretcher. Paramedics were taking my vitals. They were testing my eyesight. They were asking how I was feeling. I looked up at them with blurry eyes and asked if I was safe. "Just stay with us," they said. "Where else can I go?" I blinked and I was in a hospital and my head was throbbing. It was like a sledgehammer had been taken to my skull. There were cuts on my hand. I couldn't remember anything, not at first. But they were in and out, doing tests. They said it'd come back to me. A man came to visit me. Early forties, a police officer. He introduced himself as Matt. No last name, just Matt. His eyes were soft and kind and he asked me questions about how I was feeling. If I remembered what happened. If I'd be willing to do down to the station and make a report. "Sure," I said. "Sure." And then, I blinked again, and another day had gone by. I was out of the gown and into the slippery warm embrace of oxycontin. I felt a dull soreness throughout my body, but otherwise, I was myself. I asked for a police escort to check my home before going back. They told me I'd been through a lot, like that was an answer. On the way there, I tried to let my reality settle. I tried to remember if they said there'd be lasting damage. I knew that'd be something that'd take getting used to. That permanent brain damage would be something real, solid, and worth mourning. But they didn't give me anything too concrete. They just kept saying how lucky I was, while repeating the fact that I had no intoxicants in my system—as if I had gamed them somehow. The house, the home, looked just as it did when I left it nights before. As per reflex, I reached for my phone. But, of course, there was no phone. It'd been lost in the crash. Or maybe the morning dew killed it and they just wanted me to stop thinking about it. Easier to just say it was lost. The police shined their flashlights in and out of windows. I felt so tired. So absolutely tired. They paused for only a moment. "Was that tape here when you left?" My mind wasn't working like it used to. It took me a minute. Finally, I said, "Yes, sorry. That was there. I did that. I dropped it." I didn't even bother to tell them why I dropped it. I didn't even think to consider it. When they left, I was more than happy to just be home. To be able to lay on my own couch, to enjoy the fog of opiates as it sent my mind crawling at a turtle's pace. It was nice. It was freeing. I felt more relaxed than I had in years, and all it took was a car accident. In two hours, I could take another one. And then in another six, another. I began to plan my day into my evening when I drifted off into a blissful sleep. When I awoke, I thought it was because I heard a creak. But creaks happen all the time. And I was too dreamy to be in danger. There was nothing in the house. It was a fact that had been proven to me time and time again. I looked at the clock and shrugged to myself. Time for my medicine, I thought, smiling. With the pills in my system, I realized I was really not afraid of anything anymore. Or at least, the anxiety had been dulled to such a degree that I was feeling something akin to courage. So, I stood up. I walked around. I talked to myself. I made relaxed, shuffling motions to check room after room after room. There was no one, of course. I didn't freak out once. Not even when I realized the back door was still unlocked. I just told myself that I need to be better at that, and I moved on. I was so proud of myself. I wasn't dwelling. I was thriving. And then I came across that video and I felt like there was tiny whistling light (yellow eyes) cutting through the fog. Like a laser, so exacting and vibrant and hot that no amount of sensory dampening could deny it its shine. I reached down and picked the tape up. I felt something odd. An unsettlement. A primordial feeling that something was not right. But, this feeling was in a chemical tug of war. As soon as it would come, it would wash away. It was like a dream, in that regard. So vivid in one moment, so lost in another. But, I was connecting the dots. The VHS player was still set up. The tape was in my hand. The drawings on the tape sent a weak quake through my innards, but it was merely a tremor. More of an echo of fear than fear itself. And because I was high, because I was curious, because I was so desperate to put this whole mess behind me. I put the tape in the VCR and sat back on my couch, determined to be ironic and bemused. When the screen flickered to life, I felt a sort of confidence. A belief in reality. That things moved two inches and moved back two inches were not a threat, that they might as well have not been moved at all. But when the video started, something was different. There was the Deserted logo, of course. The same early-millennium graphic design, the same strange seal that hinted at its sinister game. But then, it cut out in a familiar way. Static bars appeared at the tops and bottoms of the screen, and suddenly the screen came to life with vibrant movement. Daytime, handheld footage. A supermarket parking lot. A close zoom. Me. I felt as if I'd been pushed to the back of the couch with gravity itself. The Deserted tape. It'd been recorded over. And there I was, shopping. There I was, driving. There I was, standing on my lawn, the police on the phone. I held my hands over my mouth as the fog lifted and I saw myself in the same context as I had seen the contestants: as figureheads, actors, golems. I was an unknown actor, acting through a story I didn't know I was telling. I don't know how they did it. But there I was, talking to the camera. A smile on my lips. "It's really not easy," the person, me, on screen said. "But when worst comes to worst, you really just have to push through." "I found out about Deserted through my business. I'm a collector." Driving, at night. Frantic. I'm screaming. My hands are shaking—both versions of me—the one on the screen and the one on the couch. I don't know how they got the shot. I don't know how they did it. The camera shakes violently and I see debris hang in midair for only a moment before the whole thing cuts to black. My body, limp in the grass. Whoever's filming is shining a flashlight on my face. I'm swollen, bruised. The hospital. They're wheeling me around. There's all this chatter, medical jargon. I'm being rushed. My stomach is filled with bees. Nothing is right. Fade to black, fade in. I'm on the hospital cot in a sea foam room. I turn my head and look up to the camera. "Who are you?" I ask "Matt," he says. "Just Matt." I'm scared. I'm shaking. And on the video, I'm coming home. I'm watching the cops search my home. And I turn it off, because I'm afraid it's going to keep going. It just seems too perfect. Too real. At the bottom of the screen, my name pops up whenever I talk. I'm lit so well. I come across so knowledgeable, so normal. But I can't help but feel like something has been stolen from me. Like it's going to be stolen continuously, forever. Everything's just too perfect. The little girl who loved TV grows up to become a collector. It doesn't sound real. I got up and pressed eject on the VCR. The tape had more time to fill, a lot more time. I stared at the ball of wriggling bodies and the one armed man. I felt as if I'd been moved two inches to the right, and then moved two inches back. That didn't sound real to me. But then again, nothing did.
Greetings all! Been wanting to make a post like this for a while but as the community is recovering from the recent 3rd Anniversary and the Skadi banner, I felt like this is the best time to do so. In this post I will be discussing probability and how it interacts with the FGO gacha. There's been a lot of confusion and misconceptions the past few days so I thought I would clear them up! So before we get into the math and probability of your rolls, there's two things I need to clear up:
1. Cumulative Luck
I'll be honest here, I don't know what you would call this or if there is a mathematically term for this but basically: "If I have X amount of tries, what is the probability, P, that I can get the thing I want, given Y probability?" Or in FGO Terms: "If I have 100 Rolls what are the chances I can get that SSR?" ~~~ Now this is probably the part that most people are familiar with but there are some people that are confused what this is so, as simply put as possible...
PLEASE EXPLAIN IT LIKE I'M 5
I have a fair coin. What's the chance of it landing on Heads? 50/50 chance!
Now, let's say we have two fair coins. What's the chance of getting at least one Heads? 75%! Because there are 4 outcomes, Heads-Heads, Heads-Tails, Tails-Heads, and Tails-Tails and 3 of them has at least one Heads.
In short, the more you roll, the higher the chance at winning
So it stands to reason, if I started rolling with like, 300 chances, I've got a good chance at success, right? Well yes. Before you started rolling. Which brings me to my next point.
2. Gambler's Fallacy
This is the one that a lot of people make a mistake with! Have you ever seen someone gets like, 3 SSRs in one roll and you or someone said something like, "Wow! Go and get yourself a lottery ticket!" or "Welp, there's goes your luck for the rest of the year." Even though both those statements are the opposite, they have been used interchangeably in response to the same outcome: a very lucky event. Yet mathematically, they are both wrong (emphasis on mathematically, superstition is a different story). This is part of "Gambler's Fallacy" which is in short: The misconception that the previous results have an effect on the future ones. It's also named "The Monte Carlo Fallacy" after an infamous event at the Monte Carlo on August 18, 1913. In short, in a game of roulette people lost millions in francs because the ball fell on black 26 times in a row. It's the mindset that, "Oh, Black came out 25 times? There's no way it could happen a 26th time!" ~~~ Now I understand all of this can be confusing so once again... TA-DA!
PLEASE EXPLAIN IT LIKE I'M 5
So let's go back to the coin example but this time, let's increase the coins to 3 to make this explanation easier. "What's the chance of getting at least 1 Heads?"
7 out of 8 of them have at least 1 Heads thus, the chance for at least 1 Heads is 87.5%.
Those are pretty good odds right? But, let's say we already flipped a coin and the result was Tails. Is your chance at winning still 87.5%? It is not! Now why is that? because we already saw the outcome of the first coin, Heads-Heads-Heads, Heads-Heads-Tails, Heads-Tails-Heads, and Heads-Tails-Tails, can't happen anymore so there are only 4 outcomes left: Tails-Heads-Heads, Tails-Heads-Tails, Tails-Tails-Heads, and Tails-Tails-Tails. After flipping a coin and failing, our chance of success has dropped to 75%. ~~~ This is the misconception people have with luck. Going back to FGO, let's say you had 300 tries to get that rate-up Servant you wanted. Sure you have a great chance of getting them before you started rolling but if you go through your rolls and fail ever time, your chance of getting that Servant drops because we are seeing the results of those rolls. Then if you manage to roll 299 and haven't gotten the Servant yet, that last roll is now only a .7% chance.
What are my chances at getting a Servant in X amount of Rolls?
Ah, the part that everyone has been waiting for! But this time, let's go right into the too long, didn't read answer and the explanation after. Assuming a .7% chance to get a rate-up 5 Star and X Number of Quartz:
Number of Quartz
Probability of Success
150
29.618%
300
50.464%
450
65.135%
600
75.461%
750
82.729%
900
87.844%
1050
91.444%
1200
93.979%
1350
95.762%
1500
97.017%
1750
97.900%
1800
98.522%
1950
98.960%
Now if you are wondering how I got these numbers, well it's simply:
Take the chance of NOT getting a success and the opposite of that is our answer.
In other words: 1 - (1-.007)x ~~~
Takeaways:
300 Quartz or 100 rolls is only about 50% chance at success. 50 PERCENT. Imagine I said, "Ok, you want Skadi? Heads you win, Tails you lose. Deal?" Would you take that deal?
750 Quartz is 82.72921% and failing that is 17.27079%. A 6-sided dice roll is 16.66667 for any given side. "How about a new proposition? Let's toss a dice and if it lands on a 1, you lose!!!"
At just over 1950 Quartz we are at close to 99% chance of success. That's 1% chance of a loss. 1% chance at getting a 5 Star in 1 ticket. 1% chance at failure at getting a rate-up SSR in 1950 Saint Quartz.
Ouch. Kind of hurts now when you look at the data like that, doesn't it? ~~~ Btw, in case you were wondering why I choose 1950 Quartz as a stopping point, I actually asked myself: "How many rolls do I have to do in order to hit a 99% chance at success?" Well, you can figure that out using some Algebra on that previous formula which gets you: ln(.01) / ln(1-.007) which if you wanted to know, the exact number is 655.576174 but of course we can't get a fraction of a roll so we round that up to 656 rolls or 1968 Quartz. ln(x) is interchangeable with log(x) by the way.
Very Minor Spoilers for Future Updates
For those that are playing on JP or for those on NA that would like a glimpse into the future... ~~~ On the FGO 4th Anniversary, JP received two changes to the Gacha system:
Every 10th roll, the 11th one is free! That means rolling with 30 Quartz or 10 Summon Tickets gives 11 summons!
The above rule is not shared by banners and is limited per each banner. i.e. You can't do 9 rolls on 1 banner, then go to another and get 2 for 1.
Rate-up Servants rate increased from .7% to .8%!
~~~ With all that in mind, new table!
Number of Quartz
Number of Rolls
Probability of Success
150
55
35.710%
300
110
58.668%
450
165
73.428%
600
220
82.917%
750
275
89.017%
900
330
92.939%
1050
385
95.460%
1200
440
97.082%
1350
495
98.124%
1500
550
98.794%
Oh and if you were curious again how many rolls you needed for at least a 99% chance of success? ln(.01) / ln (1-.008) = 573.340606. Then we convert those rolls into Quartz needed... 573.340606/11 = 52.1218733 rounding down to 52... multiplying by 30... 1560 Saint Quartz. Lastly...
About the Guaranteed 4+ Star / 3+ Star Servant
I wanted to bring this one up last because frankly, you should just forget about this mechanic if you are rolling for Servants. There's no 100% concrete evidence but it is highly likely that the way this mechanic works is: Guaranteed 4 Star:
Roll 10 (or 11) cards
If there is at least 1 4 Star in the roll, do nothing
Else, convert 1 random CE into a random 4 Star CE
3+ Star Servant is probably the same mechanic. This means that the Guaranteed Mechanic has zero influence on obtaining Servants. Again, minor speculation but I believe this is the mechanic because it's the algorithm that gives us the worst case and knowing Aniplex/Delight Works/Sony... Anyways, it's just a very likely guess but it can easily be disproven/proven by checking several hundred 10 roll results and see the likelihood of specifically a roll that has only 1 4 Star CE as the result. And besides, shouldn't we just assume the worst case scenario when rolling?
Conclusion
So next time you roll, consider what your chances are at getting that SSR before you start rolling. Might make things a little less salty?
...“You know what I'm here for!” Effie’s words rang out as Ernie watched on at the unexpected turn of events. “The funny thing is I really don’t know.” Ernie stood there and took in the scene. Was this the first time he had seen this type of outburst in the District? Ernie tried to recall, but now wasn’t really the time to reminisce on bad memories. Something was afoot. Something about Ugo threatening them that was for sure. But if Ugo wanted somebody to fight him this would never be his plan of attack. “Would you care to enlighten me then, I wouldn’t mind this either way!” Ernie shouted back, his tone was neutral, the tension of the situation only increased, but he didn’t see a need to fight back even now. “They sent us here, because they wanted us to steal your notebook!” Ernie heard the voice of Jenny behind a tree. Things started to make sense to Ernie, the hiding, why it wasn’t Odin’s people doing this, and that outburst. “And what do you two intend to do?” Ernie moved his backpack from his back to carrying it on one arm. “Well if you help us, you could send them a fake notebook! It’s not like we like those fuckers anyways!” Jenny replied beyond the trees. Well that wasn’t so difficult was it, it only took one or maybe both of their ire to get to this arrangement. Ernie weighed this against the prospect that they were lying to him, but if it came down to it it would just be either a fight now or a fight later. “Alright I’ll help you! I’ll be in my cabin manuscripting! You two wait outside, this will take less than an hour!” Ernie shouted back over as he started to walk back to his cabin. “Your funeral..wait what?!” Effie flipped as Jenny clapped an arm on her, “We did it, we can get out of this shitty situation.” Effie looked around, The Murder receded back into herself. “Did that really just happen?” She held out the hope that it really would be that easy, she wanted to believe it but she felt a slight pang of confusion, guilt maybe? Jenny continued on, “We just have to make sure that he does his end of the deal and we’ll be out of here in no time.” Jenny looked at Effie’s face as she noticed the change in expression, “You okay there? You let out a bunch just now and if you wanted to talk about it.” “No I’m ok, come on we have to still keep an eye on him.” Effie brushed Jenny’s arm off and made her way closer into the clearing with Jenny following. Well, that was somewhat anticlimactic. If you were hoping for a match with some more carnage in it, how about checking out a race out of a monster-filled urn and voting on it? Scenario: Sound’s Garden Eastern Strip - Heartache Casino VIP Room “So kind of you all to come again,” a man dressed garishly in gold spoke to a roomful of wealthy highrollers, a lounge area with a wall taken up by a screen large enough to make the place double as something of a particularly cozy home theater, a setup which had typically been reserved for two things: watching games organized by Heartache Casino’s owner on the closed-circuits of buildings he owned, and being rented out for private parties and banquets. “This is pretty unconventional,” a dark-haired sniper remarked between drinks, staring at the screen as it showed, largely, several shots of a building in Downtown Los Fortuna, which seemed to have rapidly grown occupied by a small group of Stand Users, some of whom familiar to the district’s regulars after some close shaves in the subways both occupied, “but it’s brilliant… Just needed to get your tech guy to get cameras in there, now you have a huge show for free.” “Should you be drinking, Seido?” The gold-clad owner asked, raising an eyebrow, “I mean, if something comes up…” “If something comes up, I’m off-duty, I’m just a guest right now, and I can shoot well enough sloshed to get myself out of a bind. If you wanted me as security, you should’ve hired me for that… Though really, I’d have rather been down there raising some hell if I was gonna shoot things.” Tigran sighed, finding that fair enough, he supposed… He wasn’t going to hire this man when he was buzzed, and he wouldn’t do guard detail for free either. Apparently, the man literally came to the city walking out of a bar into the flag unveiling, so he shouldn’t have been surprised. Still, though, even with moods high here, nobody seeming to mind the way anonymous characters like Oh No and Conqueror Worm mingled among them. Sure, they were kind of a low-priority target right now, with protests in the Business district, the hell-on-earth about to be unleashed Downtown keeping their worst nightmares busy, and the usual BS in places like the Waterfront and Industrial, but the man once noted for his supremely smarmy overconfidence had been feeling more anxious lately, probably because the Entertainment District’s criminal underground had taken some losses recently. Things were riding high with several successful games, and the arrival of Conqueror Worm, revitalizing everything that they had thought they’d known and opening up whole new possibilities of what games might be possible to organize from a place of safety, all while not asking for a penny of payment. He was a weird guy, but a valuable asset, and all that was understood to be asked in return was that they pretend not to know exactly who it was underneath that big fleshy suit. And then, the next time they had an in-person event, a bunch of them died in a fire, and on the way to… Well, who knew why he was there, but something happened that got a formerly active manager and ‘game’ organizer murdered blocks away from the site of the flames. Was it a sign, then, that the old ways really were dying, that they needed to change with the times or lose this subculture of theirs entirely? Maybe, and maybe some would leave it like that, but Tigran “Golden” Sins knew another source of common ground with every one of their games to go wrong, to go awry, to risk the future and safety of all that they were, all that they had. Everything (besides that time he got punched in the face) that had gone wrong, from Thutmose leaving them, to events that were supposed to be disastrous bloodbaths going well for the ‘players’ and ruining bets, could trace back somewhere. And she was sitting there looking very disinterested, nursing a sparkling juice in a very expensive evening dress and earrings, recently bought by the only man in the world he believed to be above himself. “Having a good time, Metra?” Fox asked the star known to much of the city as TD/MD, smiling smoothly and paying her more attention than the event itself, where he was significantly more public than before. He’d spent how many thousands on her in a few days? “Sure, yeah,” she answered, with a clear disinterest and foul mood. “I understand if you’re not… we’re all sorry to have lost Thutmose. Most likely by where he was, whoever killed him would have done the same to us had he not interfered. So he would want you to have a good time, right?” “Alright, everyone, last calls!” Conqueror Worm called out, many eyes looking all over. After getting back from camera work, he’d volunteered to handle bets, on account of his utter disinterest in profiting from his work there. Damn shame, honestly; Tigran loved that weird golden Stand-hurting sword he’d always been swinging around, and something belonging to a regional founder would be a hell of a get to wear around. “We know all the key players in that little downtown scuffle, so let’s hear it! Who’s biting it? Who’s comin’ out? Who’s gonna have the highest bodycount? Is anyone even gonna get IN?” That Oh No guy, from the Institute, spoke up through that voice changer he almost always had on in his coverings. “I think that… Three people will manage to find their way inside. Nobody on this betting board.” “Ooh, bold words from our boldest regular!” Worm leaned in close, asking, “how much’re you puttin’ on that?” “Nothing,” No responded, “I just want to see what comes of it… I’m almost disappointed you needed to ask.” Peas in a pod, those two. Tigran sighed, figuring he might need to drink through these proceedings, only to glance at Metra, suddenly, seeming to smirk, ears twitching as if that special pitch of hers had picked something up. “What? What’s so fun now, that-” The heavily reinforced, hidden doorway to the VIP room burst open, bisecting the hollow yet burly door guard as sand and rocks spilled out of its hollow crevasse, the only herald within seconds of a quintet of Stand Users barreling in, led by a trio on two motorbikes as two others, curious but energetic, followed. “All that you’ve done ends here, Fox!” Around the same time, Heartache Casino Public Floors “Uh… Glitch? I think… it might be good if we… go?” William Eyelash was not liking it here very much. His hyperactive coworker and teammate had practically dragged him here after what was otherwise a simple delivery performed in place of Zebra, who had been busy enough delivering food to the other side of the city. William was the one supposed to carry it out, but Glitch had practically jumped at the opportunity to do so. Glitch herself, meanwhile, seemed to be very content eating some fries which she (very regrettably) had to actually buy instead of simply snatching it away from a poor, unaware bystander, and had already ordered another plate because they were just that good. Security was too tight, somewhat on edge - the moment she got close to someone or something, they immediately turned their attention to her. Still, she didn’t want to deprive herself of one of the many pleasures of life like that, so she didn’t mind paying too much. “Mmrgh..? Why sho?” “W- well… you know… uh...” William wasn’t sure how to say it - he was scared enough of Glitch’s erratic mannerisms most days, and that was while he tried to steer clear of her. Were he to directly oppose her, he’d have no way of knowing what she’d do! On top of that, he couldn’t help but notice that she seemed slightly… on edge. She was usually hyperactive, but she seemed to be even more eager to jump from one thing to another recently, and to ignore anything that even slightly stressed her out. Considering everything that happened to the staff at the Elephant Bones recently, it made sense for her to be stressed, even if she didn’t really show it usually. “... um, you know the rumors about this place… right? ” Glitch turned to look at William, tilting her head “Hm? What rumors?”. “Uh... well… about the ED… and the fighting rings… I saw an article about it on the Hermod, and… i- it could be dangerous to be here for too long...” hearing William say that, Glitch seemed to recede for a bit, thinking to herself. “Mmm... well, it hasn’t been a problem yet! Right? Besides, the other chips haven’t arrived yet!” Glitch didn’t want to think much about it - so long as these fighting rings were away from her, she could just ignore them and go on with her life, but if it really was here, then maybe it would be good to avoid this place… but the fries were so good... Glitch took another look at the table she was sitting at and at the plate of fries she’d ordered. She grabbed a handful and ate them. “Mmm… after the second order of chips comes! Then we leave! But only after then!” “Alright...” William didn’t like this very much, and he couldn’t help but shoot nervous glances around as Glitch finished up. Just about every staff member here was on edge and uncomfortable - he knew how to notice these things, and it would make sense if this place really was connected to the underground. Ugh… Why did he come along with Glitch? He’d just have to hope that the second order would come soon, and then they’d be able leave just as quickly as they came in. Naturally, as if fate itself had conspired to screw him over, he couldn’t help but pick up on ‘something’. Guards around the floor peered nervously into their phones, and most of them began rushing towards the stairwell. Glitch had noticed as well, her ears picking up on the nervous murmurings of the guards and their hasty footsteps. “Uhh… G- Glitch, something’s happening, we should-” “Pleh! Can’t you wait just a second! The chips aren’t here yet! This isn’t-” Before Glitch could finish her sentence, something flew into the room - the body of a security officer, clearly tossed away by some stand, flew from the entrance to the second floor, and landed right in the middle of a group of more security officers. “Oh god oh god it’s happening oh no oh no oh no oh-” William was, as expected, positively freaking out by now. Meanwhile, Glitch was keeping her ears peeled out, having picked up on something… interesting. The voice of two people she vaguely recognized from “Taste of Fortuna” a month or so back. “Hey! That’s Agnes! And that other chef whose food is good! Even better than the chips!! What are they doing here, fighting?!” Soon enough, Agnes and Arpeggi really did pop into the room, their stands summoned as they staved off some guards with them. Much to William’s chagrin, Glitch grabbed onto his hand and summoned [Vida Loca], before hopping onto it, the massive feline hoisting him onto it as well, before running right towards the source of the commotion… And right into the footpath of a terrifying giant who seemed to suddenly fall from the ceiling, several eyes along its body looking to them as its head rotated 180 degrees. “Well, wouldn’t you like to know?” Several minutes earlier, A Few Stories Lower - Sound’s Garden Abandoned Subway “Are you sure this is the place? Seems pretty fucking trashy to me, honestly…” “That’s what makes it a secret passage, Agnes… They’re not exactly rolling out the red carpet to tell you how to get there.” “Ugh, Astronomia wasn’t built for this shit. You’re paying if something gets stuck somewhere.” “You’ve crashed it how many times this month alone?” Arpeggi Osso Buco sat in the sidecar of a motorbike driven by one Ananas “Agnes” Bayley, through the abandoned subways of the Eastern strip. He’d meant to take this trip alone, like he had before, but of course, this fucking guy had to be the first on the team to learn that he was a Stand User, an active vigilante, and not only in part responsible for a certain cult’s influence plummeting to nothing in Los Fortuna, but had dedicated himself to making an enemy of the blight of the Entertainment District. “Fuck it, I’m down.” “You’re… What?” “I’m down. Fuck those guys. I don’t even need to ask any more questions, they’re an absolute disgrace to be shown up by a real villain, and if you’re hunting their boss down, I’m with you.” “You are the last person I would want watching my back in a-” “Or I can tell Gabanna what you’re doing so soon after getting SHOT last time you tried your luck with these guys.” “…bastard. Okay, just don’t get in the way.” Minus a near-scare with RCR’s nightmarish train nearly running them down without noticing, and Arpeggi having to explain at some point that it was both private information from a set of informants and news now publicly printed in multiple sources about the higher-ups of this organization, it had mostly gone smoothly since then. As they drove closer to the underside of Heartache, Arpeggi signaled for Agnes to stop, noting a destroyed set of hollowed-out mannequins of sorts, smoking and smelling like gunpowder. “Hell is that?” Agnes asked, looking down, but Arpeggi, in turn, didn’t quite seem surprised. Before he could explain, however, another, distorted voice cut through. “You’re late.” The revving of a second motorcycle, a sport bike, had quietly synced with Astronomia, and the pair looked up to see a figure clad in orange and black, winglike scarf drooping upside-down, its rider atop the ceiling of the tunnel. “You.” Agnes spoke with contempt, despite having never seen the Black Angel in person before, only for them and their bike to drop down right in front of them, flipping in midair to land gracefully. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing a friend, let alone… Him.” The Angel sounded dubious about Agnes’ presence, adding, “since you took time picking him up, I’ve had to start picking off these weird… hollow doll-guards myself. They almost noticed me in time to signal the boss. I really don’t have the time for this today.” “Sorry about that, he insisted,” Arpeggi wrote off, not wanting to explain the somewhat unsurprising (“ran into one another while doing their vigilante rounds, got to talking about the ED mainly”) story how he and the Angel met, “and he’s here right now… Say what you like about him, you saw that Being So Normal, I assume. He’ll be an asset.” “I’ll kick your ass-et,” Agnes grumbled, “fighting them alone my ass. Ugh, teaming up with masked hero types like this… Pisses me off. We should be kicking each other’s asses, Angel.” “Deal with it,” the Angel wrote off, before adding, “our contacts in there… They said basically everyone we might have any reason to get is on that floor with them, watching Downtown.” “Right, some madman is acting out there,” Arpeggi noted, folding his arms and looking Westward, “I take it that’s why you’re in a hurry? You want to deal with them quickly and head out there next?” “You got it,” they answered, “and admittedly, there’s a reason I had to come here first… Something I’m going to prioritize the highest, and if we take too long, I’ll have to leave having only done that.” “You’ve got a grudge, is that it?” Agnes asked, “you wanna punt some fucker before moving on?” “That’s… not why I’m targeting him,” The Angel noted, before adding, “that sword the Conqueror Worm always has on him… The ‘Sword of Sir Aurel…’ The future of the city might depend on me getting that Downtown. The contacts say he still has it with him, just like on that stream.” “You’re pissing me off, pretending you don’t care about just one-upping that bastard,” Agnes chided, adding, “act like you’re ‘heroes of justice’ all you want… I’m doing this because these guys piss me the hell off, and seeing them fall will make me laugh. Do all of us a favor, cut the bullshit, and admit you’re gonna enjoy this, yeah?” The others didn’t say too much more of note, then, beyond the Angel briefly examining Astronomia, putting something all over it that they claimed would ‘make it maneuver better,’ which Arpeggi had to calm Agnes into accepting, especially considering it meant they could ride up stairs with relative ease. “Alright, from this secret passage, it’s a straight shot up a few flights of stairs to the VIP room… We should be able to burst it down without ever disrupting all the public patrons and fortifications up on 1F. Hold on tight, you got that?” The motorbikes revved, then, and the Angel’s led Agnes in seeming to leap into the air, driving up and along the walls of the stairwell, before a long-haired figure emerged from the Angel, aiming something at a metal reinforced door, firing into it a few times, and it shifted in place as Pork Soda rushed towards it, placing a tab on the material before ripping it away, liquid metal blasting in the opposite direction the door would fly and swing at rapid speed, swinging like a deadly projectile and cutting more powerful puppet guards away as the three burst in. Arpeggi called out, “All that you’ve done ends here, Fox!” Not long after Arpeggi called that out, Fox himself, of course, was quick to stand, as were a few bold-looking members of the crowd, hurrying towards the fighters with his own accompanying doll-guard, small enough to hold in two hands and, with his large frame, swing like a hammer-thrower, lobbing up towards them and bursting open into a mess of pointed rocks as he drew closer, repelling Arpeggi’s immediate attempts to approach. The swinging door, embedded with odd screws and still gushing metal soda, began to fly towards him, only for the sound of a rifle to fill the room, a single warping bullet putting out every one of the odd screws and careening it to strike Arpeggi back, sending him flying down the stairwell before either the Angel or Agnes could react. Seido, sitting at his edge of the bar, finished downing his drink, holding his weapon in one hand and grinning a bit, slurring slightly, “thas’ goin’ on your tab, boss…” Fox smirked, then, rocks and sand swirling around him and beating back the remaining attackers’ efforts to burst forward. “Let’s not fight up here, gentlemen… I’ve set this place up nice for a very special guest. Take it downstairs. Seido, consider yourself on the clock now.” Worm, then, seemed to realize the Angel was staring at his movements, diving down into the floor below to the terror of the 1F patrons, and the rider hurriedly cut away from the clash, leaving Agnes to fend for himself against the rocky onslaught of Fox, all while Oh No watched and Seido, quickly, lined up another shot. Even on this upgraded bike, he knew the only response to make there. “Fffuck this!” Pork Soda reached for Astronomia, a tab appearing on its wheel which, as the Stand weathered rocky blows, it pulled, blasting Agnes back into the stairwell, where he hit the wall with an, “oof!” before hopping off of his ride, which crashed and plummeted down as he abandoned it to slide down the railing, doing a cool combat roll to cover Arpeggi and the Angel as they rolled into the first floor, clearly concerned about what Conqueror Worm being there would mean for the patrons. Fox and others were shortly behind, with a certain exception. Though nobody could hear it, by Metra Doria’s choice, as soon as Seido had spoken that aloud, she’d kicked up the chair she’d been sulking in all ‘party’ long, a pair of headphones appearing along her neck as a blast of sonic energy kicked it directly into the head of the hitman. Her heart skipped a beat, then, and she muttered under her breath, “shit, that actually worked… I got lucky, huh?” “Entirely,” Oh No agreed, stepping forth himself and stretching, producing a very large, intimidating revolver from his cloak and beginning, idly, to load it, “but don’t treat that as a failing, TD/MD… You saw a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you had the instincts to take it.” No closed the chamber, starting leisurely towards the stairs after the rest. “This is getting tiresome, isn’t it? You see it too, how dull this has gotten… What potential they’re wasting here. What do you say we speed along what’s been a long, long time coming?” “Well, wouldn’t you like to know?” A golden, shining sword appeared out of the giant’s gross hand, and his presence alone made Glitch want to wretch, the smell of the Conqueror Worm fell, and vibes even more rancid. “We got two more troublemakers here, eh?” Worm asked her and William with an amused tone, “Hell just broke loose here, and you’re tryin’ to run headlong into it! I like that! I like that drive! So what do ya say? Attacka them!” Glitch didn’t know this guy, but something about his gleeful nature, the way that William murmured to himself in alarm when he spoke those distorted words, made her hairs stand on end, made her want to hiss and immediately turn her attention to him, and it seemed, then, that Worm could sense this. “Another one who ain’t a fan, huh?” He shook his head. “Disappointing, but typical.” At that, he ducked into the floor, before attempting to burst out from underneath and drive his blade up into Vida Loca, barely being scraped before hopping away from the rising attack and meeting it with a sharp, harsh claw, beating back his raw strength with her Stand’s own. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re really not the kind of bad news that’s any fun!” Glitch called out from atop her mount, pulling off in time to avoid the ambush of a hollowed-out guard and note two others bothering William. “That guy looks underage… He ain’t allowed to be on a casino floor without ID!” Worm declared with amusement, fully expecting what came next as several of the doll-guards attempted to strong-arm him. “G-get away… Get away from me!” William was freaking out, then, and fairly fearing for his life, allowed Ocean Eyes to manifest, swinging and spraying acid all around, which bounced uselessly off of Worm’s hide, didn’t so much as drop near Glitch or Vida Loca, and melted away the threats in an instant. The casino floor was pandemonium then, several high rollers, some random patrons, and of course, every named member fighting, Stands flying. Arpeggi expertly caught rocks tossed by Fox, only for him to still control them even as they were made to burn by NEXT LEVEL 2, though this eroded away much of the sands of his barrier, backed up by Agnes as he very competently kept a rocky barrier up regardless, Metra standing close by, shifting her eyes. The Black Angel tried to drive headlong into Worm, continuing his mess of a situation, while Glitch, mostly, managed to sneak off on her own, trying to find a way to support William and calm him out of whatever this was. “Don’t move,” a modulated voice behind her said, and she heard something click behind her. “Mrr?” She turned, then, facing the barrel of Oh No’s revolver head-on. “This might be a bit loud… But it’s about time this ended.” Before Glitch could react, No had pulled the trigger twice. Neither shot so much as grazed her, but seemed to hit tables, cameras, walls, ricocheting about in apparent chaos, before finally… “I… What did…” Blood ran down the organizational ringleader’s outfit, bleeding both from a massive wound to the back of his knee and opening a massive hole in his shoulder, as the rocks he had been flinging around dropped like… Rocks. Tigran’s voice was the next thing to ring out through the casino, now mostly abandoned bar the combatants. “TOBY!!!” Fox hadn’t even heard the shots fired, thanks to Metra, let alone noticed their angles; after all, the only one he knew of who could make a shot like that was knocked out and drunk upstairs, not to mention loyal to Tigran’s paychecks. No twirled his gun around, holstering it and patting the bewildered Glitch on the shoulder. “Thanks for holding still… Didn’t want to hit you and ruin it all, after all. Hmmhmmhmahaha!" “You… You motherfuckers!” Tigran wanted to cry then, especially as the others drew closer, seeing everyone who had fought against an ally of his here as little more than an enemy. Still, though, facing them off, he had to calm himself. “Stand down,” Arpeggi demanded, “you’re outnumbered, completely.” Tigran, rather than giving up, began to speak again. “You know, as the owner of this casino, I know the power of ‘games’. You see, if you call it a ‘gamble’, that sounds so… negative, no? So you call it nothing more than a simple ‘game’. That’s what draws people in. Getting people to play ‘roulette’ is harder, but if you call it a ‘roulette game’ and mask it correctly, it’s so, so, easy… However, the moment the ball is launched, it doesn’t matter, does it? No difference between a ‘gamble’ and a ‘game’... the ‘contract’ is the same - you abandon your money for ‘entertainment’ and for a slim ‘hope’ that you’ll succeed this time and make bank… It’s all thanks to these ‘games’... All of you lot, don’t you think so? Aren’t ‘games’ great? Hell, I’ve got an idea for one we can play right now…” “Wh- what the hell are you talking about!” Arpeggi shouted out in anger. “I’m not putting up with this shit! You want a ‘game’?! Sure, fine! Here, how about this one - I go up to you, and have fun beating the shit out of you!” rushing towards Tigran, Arpeggi readied a punch and swung towards him - only for his fist to stop in midair, hitting against some kind of invisible barrier. He reeled back from the impact, stumbling backwards, feeling… weak. A look behind him revealed that Agnes, Glitch, William, and even Metra, the Angel, and No seemed to be feeling the same, struggling to remain upright. “Y- you ‘agreed’... heh…” Tigran’s previously panicked expression quickly faded, replaced by a wide grin. “You agreed to it! You agreed to the ‘game’!” By now, Tigran broke out into uproarious laughter. “Always! They always fall for it, tempted by ‘games’! You… you idiot! I put the answer right in front of you, and you still missed it! ‘Games’, by their very nature, are tricks! Illusions! And my [The Grid] has the power to facilitate that! By agreeing to the game, my [The Grid] forces you to participate! There’s no escape now - you’re trapped in this ‘game’ of mine!” As he realized he had screwed them all right at the last moment, Arpeggi’s vision began fading, and he fell onto the ground with a thud, blacking out. ???, an hour later, Heartache Casino VIP room “Alright! Seems like our contestants for the first impromptu match of the day are waking up!” “Plrrr..?” Out of nowhere, Glitch found herself standing straight, awake, somewhere unfamiliar. She tried to listen to see what was going on, only hearing the groans of William, Agnes, and Arpeggi, indicating that they were in a similar position to her. Of course, there was also that voice - she was… a ‘contestant’. It wasn’t hard to roughly figure out what exactly she was a ‘contestant’ of. She, and... “...William!” Behind her was a whimpering noise, evidently William, and the sound of droplets of some kind of liquid splashing onto the ground, clearly [Ocean Eyes]’s acid. Ahead of her were Agnes and Arpeggi, talking between themselves about what the hell happened. Arpeggi sounded mad. Agnes… she wasn’t sure how he sounded. But she gathered enough from their conversation to understand that somehow, they were currently inside of a roulette wheel. Or rather, she, and everyone else, was shrunk, and placed into a roulette wheel. “Now, this match is simple - a deathmatch to see who manages to survive! However, since we’re at the heartache casino… there’s an appropriate twist involved! See, our combatants for today are fighting on a roulette table, and meanwhile, our spectators for today are placing ‘bets’ to see which colors win out! Representing ‘red’, we’ve got our very own ‘Fox’! On black, meanwhile, we’ve got ‘Tigran Sins’, who set this match up!” She summoned [Vida Loca] besides her, taking a look through the stand’s eyes and seeing the environment for herself. She was dwarfed by the room, trapped inside of this small roulette wheel. There was nowhere to run. William’s whimpers had escalated into sobbing, as [Ocean Eyes] hugged him from behind. Arpeggi and Agnes were arguing by now, shouting at each other. She took a deep breath. “Now… I won’t keep you waiting any longer, since I just know everyone here’s excited to see what happens! So...” First, Glitch got tossed into Los Fortuna and found a new home there, with the rest of the staff at the Elephant Bones. Then, they started getting into fights with other stand users - Shelldrake, Effie, Byte, William. She hadn’t been in one yet, but she knew very well the effects of them. Her friends had gotten hurt, some such as Father Blue even dying. Then the situation in the slums got worse, her home becoming less and less safe by the minute, her friends getting extorted and forced to work for ODIN, and now she and William were trapped here. “Three… Two… One...” She needed to get out. She needed to fight. She needed to win. She could overhear Agnes and Arpeggi bickering on the other side of the wheel, but knew that they were going to try and fight her and William as well. They had to. They’d been trapped by that man’s stand, and none of them knew what could be done against it, if anything. [Vida Loca] stood behind her, a constant vibration coming out of it and creating a loud hissing noise that was soon mimicked by [Ocean Eyes], drowning out William’s sobs. She knew full well that, even if he was her friend, William was also a dangerous killer, meek though he might have acted. As hard as that whole situation was to grasp, she understood something else - that the more she stayed near [Ocean Eyes], working alongside it, the safer she was. She and William had to get out of this. And if they wanted to get out of this... They would have to fight for their lives. OPEN THE GAME! (credit to magistelles for the image, both the censored and uncensored version!(CW: trypophobia)) Location: A roulette wheel in Heartache Casino, upon which players have been forcibly placed. The map here is roughly similar to the image of the roulette wheel above. The outer brown layer represents the rim, the yellow layer being the wooden slopes down towards the center, the black layer being the numbers, the red layer being the pockets, the next layer being sloped wood up towards the center, and the center being a metal tower. The map is 30 by 30 meters relative to the players, with the dotted tile being 5 by 5 meters. The diamonds are the metal bumpers, about half a meter tall, and the blue circle is a weighted metal roulette ball which is a meter tall, both heights relative to the players. The metal tower in the center is 8 meters tall relative to the players and the outside walls are 5 meters relative to the players. Players can not go past the rim of the roulette wheel. Goal: RETIRE your opponents! Additional Information: There is an invisible barrier keeping the players and their Stands inside the roulette wheel. Everything else will pass through as normal, but the players and their attacks will be blocked by this barrier. The barrier is cylindrical around the entire roulette wheel. The roulette system is currently automatic, 5 seconds after the ball falls into a pocket or stops moving entirely, it will start rolling again at top speed clockwise. The max speed of the ball is equivalent to B SPD and the ball is A DUR. You can expect it to make around 8 revolutions around the wheel before losing most of its speed if it is unimpeded by the players. If the ball is destroyed or unable to roll, a new one will be thrown in from outside.
“W-Well, I'll be going now...” You’re being forced to fight, and you don’t want anything to do with this! During the match, try to stay on the backlines as much as possible, assisting from there!
"Nowadays, 30,000 yen is gone after you make one or two trips... So all that's left is to make more money, or go flat broke." You are being forced to fight here, and you hate it, so you might as well do something to cause the casino to lose money! Do whatever you can to constantly rig the roulette in favor of odds!
"Does that alien not know what 'holding back' means?" You were tricked by that asshole, and now you’ve got to fight these two bystanders?! Fuck, this makes you irritated. Destroy as much of the area as possible over the course of your strategy!
"I did say this seemed fun, but I wasn't talking about Cee-lo. I meant that it'd be fun taking your 30,000 yen from you." That girl over there is trying to rig the game, so play the agent of chaos and rig it towards the other end! Do whatever you can to constantly rig the roulette in favor of evens!
Link to the Official Player Spreadsheet Link to Match Schedule As always, if you would like to interact with the tournament community and be among the first to get updates for the tournament, please feel free to PM a member of our Judge staff for an invite to our Official Discord Server!
Learn Roulette Odds - All you need to know about the odds of roulette games. Use our trusted, expert guide so you can play better, both live and online. A European Roulette table has one zero (green), 18 red and 18 black slots. In total there are 37 slots for the roulette ball to land on. The odds that the Roulette ball will land on red is 18/37 = 48.6%. The odds that the ball will land on red two times in a row is 48.6% x 48.6% = 23.6%. The odds that the colour red will hit three times in a row is 48.6% x 48.6% x 48.6% = 11.4%. Etcetera Etcetera. The roulette table is pretty much the same across all variations of roulette. The only difference is that the American version has one more field, for the double zero. Both American and French versions clearly show the inside and outside bets, and the numbers are coloured correspondingly to the pockets on the wheel. The French Roulette table is the most different ones as it has a slightly What is the highest roulette odds probability? 48.60% are the odds on a roulette table for a wide range of outside bets. For example, the bets including Even/Odd, Red/Black or Low/High offer the highest odds on roulette with European (48.60%) and American (47.40%) layout. These roulette betting odds mean that your chance to hit a win is almost 50:50. Odds on Red or Black Roulette. One of the lowest risk bets is odds-on red or black roulette; essentially this means you are making a like for like bet. If you win, you get back your stake and the same amount on top. If you lose your loss is simply the stake. However, there is a much higher chance of winning. Often touted as 50/50 this is a slight misnomer as of course there is a single green Roulette table odds are more favourable - almost 50/50 when you make outside bets covering more numbers, like red/black bets and even/odd bets, each paying 1:1 ; The most difficult bets to get paid on are inside bets, which compensate with higher payouts. The single number bet is one of them - 35:1 pay-out and 2.7% chance of winning. The following statistics table shows all Even Chances (Red, Black, High, Low, Even and Odd) series (ie. sequences), including single spins, that appeared in 397271 recorded past spins of a European roulette in a brick and mortar casino. A sequence was regarded as stopped whenever a ZERO was found or, of course, the opposite outcome. When an end-of-day or end-of-file was reached, the ongoing Red/Black: These bets cover all pockets – 18 each – of that color. If the ball lands on that color, you win at even money odds. which is the highest roulette odds on the table. If you want to manage your risk, you can also make multiple straight bets on each spin. Even Money Bets: If you’re more risk-averse, even money bets like red/black and odd/even will give you the most security The most popular bets on the roulette table are Red and Black, this is especially the case in online casinos. Our list of roulette strategies is quite long so what we’re going to do here is list all of the different systems that are aimed towards Red and Black betting. It’s important to remember that Red and Black have exactly the same odds as Odd/Even and 1-18/19-36 so all of these If you want to get technical, the odds of red then black spinning are 1 in (0.4865 x 0.4865). But it’s the same as red then red spinning, or black then black. The odds of dozens spinning in a row. There are three dozens on the table, and 37 numbers. So the odds of a dozen spinning once is 12/37. Again the odds don’t change based on previous dozens. They will always be the same. If you’re new to roulette, it may be hard to get your head around the concept. But keep in mind thinking that
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