Innovation Celebration

Brace yourself, it’s more poker stuff today. I recently had reason to ruminate on the game, so I’ve got a few more things I want to discuss.

Apologies if you find your way here to explore the full sumptuous labyrinth of my gambling knowledge, but poker is where I’m at my expertiest, so it is in that ornate antechamber that we shall linger a little longer.

We’re leaving behind the muck of game integrity for now though (I have plenty to say about bots in the not-too-distant future), and onto something lighter: Innovation.

Maybe I’m just conditioned for optimism by the unconvincing arrival of spring, but I’m seeing green shoots of creativity. I’ve argued before that poker as a wider product category still has plenty of life, but I’ve rarely seen signs that anyone is pursuing the opportunities. 

I see luscious, fertile, virgin fields all around, but the incumbent poker giants have been content to toil in the gravelly back yard of jackpots and speed games. That’s not so much novelty as it is just tweaking a couple of dials. 

In general, knob-twiddling isn’t without value. In those particular cases though, it does nothing to expand the game. Worse still, it’s lazy and a bit dangerous.

Bigger jackpots mean more losers, because those prizes aren’t self-funding. More losers means more loss-chasing, and the big prize money means there’s always a glimmer of hope to get out of a hole. 

It’s like they’re trying to engineer a perfect downward spiral for the vulnerable.

Faster games are bad because it’s not healthy for dopamine hits to come too thick and fast. It conditions the brain to crave more, and that’s a contributing factor in how addictions start. 

But thankfully, not everyone is thinking like that. Today I just want to direct a couple of solemn nods of approval towards folks who are exploring the unploughed meadows of poker innovation.

First off, the solo developer that created Balatro. He goes by a screen name, so I can’t offer personal plaudits, but then he’s already been smothered in cash and praise, so I don’t suppose he needs it from me anyway.

I haven’t played Balatro yet, because I was stupid enough to buy a Chromebook (worst purchase of 2023) and I haven’t owned a console since the N64. I’m not about to break my 25 year run just to play a card game, and it’ll be on mobile soon enough.

I won’t try to explain the game here, but it’s basically a very pokery solo roguelike with lots of interesting jokers and rubbish graphics (see above). There are a bunch of rounds with an element of deck-building in between.

Side note, I hate the word roguelike. It’s gaming-speak for “a game where you have to start again from scratch when you die”, but it doesn’t look like it means that. It doesn’t even have the decency to sound like a noun, so it’s very annoying. Maybe I’m just a basic literal b#tch, but I’d call it a Startover.

It’s sold over a million copies in the month since release, and it’ll win a bunch of awards. Players on Steam have put in nearly 2000 years of combined play to date. That’s close to my time investment in Championship Manager 02/03 at university.

What I really love about Balatro is that it isn’t a gambling game. People are buying it just because they want to play it and have fun. 

Imagine that?! Playing a poker variant because it’s genuine entertainment. It should be to the utter embarrassment of the poker world that it is a revolutionary approach.

I suspect the deeper-pocketed industry players are circling to buy the game and slap their branding on it as a marketing exercise. Please don’t. Take all that money and spend it on creating something else original and interesting. Maybe even something that’s fun.

Next up, I want to sing the praises of Kim Lund. Kim stumbled across this blog last year, and by chance we were able to meet up soon after at a pub quiz in Malmo. 

Kim has fingers in lots of pies, but the most advanced of which is Hands of Victory. It’s a bit more like traditional poker, but with some creative wrinkles and an engaging narrative (featuring its own IP). Like Balatro, it leans more towards gaming, but it does keep a toe in the gambling camp.

It was so interesting to talk to someone who thinks about games the same way I do. Or at least with the same passion and disregard for dogma. 

Most people don’t want to get lost in the weeds of what makes something fun, or what can be done to make it better, but that’s my favourite thing to think about.

Padel tennis (and I suppose pickleball if you’re feeling generous) is awesome, but it wouldn’t exist if someone hadn’t given regular tennis an overdue kick in the cheeks. That’s pretty much what Kim has tried to do with his game.

I don’t know if Cards of Victory will be his big breakthrough, but I’m confident he will have one. I love the inspiration part of game design, but only occasionally bring my ideas to life. More likely I’ll cast them like pearls to swine and pop them in a blog.

Kim is someone who is prepared to do the hard work and make them a reality. We need more of him.

The Superusual Subjects

It was a busy weekend for celebrating, but while you were all thoughtfully appreciating international women and mothers, I was busy marking a workiversary. It has now been a year since I left a job at GGPoker.

I’ve talked about that chafening experience before (here), so today is about their recent superuser scandal. I don’t have any hard facts to add, but as I glimpsed behind the curtain just 12 months ago I can add some insightful colour commentary.

My stint at the company only lasted nine months, and during that time I was within muffled earshot of noteworthy conversations and some fascinating tantrums, so I got a good feel for the culture.

Based on my experience, I’ll share with you why I think it happened, and whether I think it could happen again. First though, here’s a summary of how we got here and what I’m talking about. 

A superuser is poker’s equivalent to a supervillain. They are players that have somehow gained a powerful unfair advantage over their opponents. Essentially it’s a cheat-mode.

Imagine being able to make your opponent fold against their will with a sly wink, or having the ability to summon the nuts by muttering a magic word. It’s like that, but much less fun or sexy.

By my count there have been two and a half notable incidents in a quarter century of online pokering, so this really doesn’t happen very often. 

The first sniff of the potential for superpowers came in the late nineties, when industry front-runner PlanetPoker published their shuffle algorithm to allay concerns over its robustness. 

An ingenious cyber security firm subsequently cracked the code and could tell you what cards were going to be dealt next. The site limped on for years, but eventually succumbed to strong competition and shame. 

I tried to do deeper research into the incident, but the details are either long forgotten or poorly SEO’d. The free version of ChatGPT had no idea what I was talking about and instead I was treated to a mash-up of details from a variety of later poker scandals.

As far as I can tell, these were white hat hackers that didn’t use their god-like powers to enrich themselves, which is why I’m only counting this as a half-incident. Presumably they derived more satisfaction from the professional challenge than crushing $3/$6 Limit Hold’em (this incident pre-dates the luxury of game selection). 

While there were no known victims in the case, the door for high-tech cheating had been cracked ajar for the world’s great cryptographers and hacking masterminds. Or, in the case of our next culprit, a horrible greedy moron. 

Fast forward ten years, for the first proper superuser scandal at UltimateBet and AbsolutePoker. I’ll treat them as a single incident, because despite the different brand names, it was the same company and perpetrator. 

In this case, the site developers made the error of allowing high-level company insiders to see what cards players were holding in real-time. This was probably intended as a non-malicious, titillating feature, but turned into a catastrophic vulnerability.

Unfortunately, one of those with the magic access was Russ Hamilton, 1994 WSOP Main Event champion and pre-existing millionaire. He used the special access for years to cheat players out of millions of dollars across both sites. 

It’s hard to express how big and shocking this news story was at the time. I suppose it’s like finding out Andre Agassi was winning tennis grandslam tournaments because of an enchanted wig. That is to say, there are several layers of WTF. 

Anyway, he (Russ, not Andre) became increasingly brazen about using his secret advantage and was ultimately brought down by the increasingly watchful and suspicious poker community. 

It was a fascinating and messy debacle, which contributed to the demise of the sites. Although it is important to note that they were also a Ponzi scheme.

That brings us to the most recent superuser skullduggery at GGPoker, which for me combines the juiciest bits of what came before. There’s the technical wizardry of the 90s, the gluttonous stupidity of the 00s, and the heroics of a poker player that brought justice.

This time, a clever crook figured out a way to hijack a feature that shows the percentage likelihood of winning when players are all-in. This is only supposed to be visible when no more betting is possible, but the player managed to switch it on early.

As far as advantages go, it isn’t as prescient as knowing what cards are going to come next, it isn’t as potent as knowing precisely what your opponent holds and it’s nowhere near as  saucy as that wink-fold thing I invented earlier. 

But the simplicity almost makes up for the lack of omniscience. Knowing how likely you are to win during a hand is still a colossal head start. We’re into enchanted wig territory.

GGPoker became aware of the flaw and quickly released a security patch, but the All-in Bandit was a step ahead. He had ring-fenced his client, blocking the software updates and thus keeping the nefarious edge.

Luckily, that’s where the indubitable intelligence of the perpetrator ran out. Like his predecessor Rigged Russ, the scoundrel was playing ugly smash-and-grab poker, and it became obvious something was amiss. A single suspicious player raised the alarm and had the cheat stopped before he had amassed $30K in winnings.

So were GGPoker horribly at fault here, or were they simply the victims of a clever criminal cretin? Oxymoron intentional.

To me, it’s a bit of both. I don’t think they displayed outright incompetence, but they were sloppy and complacent. There really wasn’t any glaring internal error or deliberate malice on their part. They were simply bested by a(n) (initially) very smart hacker. 

That’s not to say they are blameless though. Earlier on I mentioned company culture, and that is where I point the trembling finger of fault. This was a failure of corporate behaviour and attitude. 

GGPoker develops fast. When a passable idea makes it onto their Slack workspace and they decide to pursue it, then they slam their foot on the development accelerator. It doesn’t really matter what direction the company vehicle was facing at the time – it’s full swervy, screechy steam ahead. 

This is mostly because of the irascible billionaire owner. I chose that word not just to sound clever, but because it’s a good fit for the man behind GGPoker. He can move quickly from civilised to spiky, and over small and unpredictable things (don’t mention Sit & Go’s). 

So, when he decides he wants something done with his software, the developers leap into action. They’re clearly a talented and hard-working team, because I was amazed at how quickly they could deliver complex tasks.  After ten years working at PokerStars, I was accustomed to slow, careful software progress – at GG I was getting product whiplash.

That isn’t wholly a bad thing. Slightly scary impatient billionaire tyrant businessmen like Jobs, Musk and Bezos have delivered incredible products and progress. But here it’s part of the problem. 

Rapid pace means ideas are not always fully fledged, and you’re often sacrificing on quality. For example, while I was there they introduced a special game type for the World Cup in Qatar with just a few weeks’ notice. It was a weird poker/sports-betting hybrid tournament that even the staff barely understood.

It began as a throwaway idea to cash in on the football, and somehow morphed into a playable product while it was being built. There were glitches and problems, and players only really got involved because they were force-fed free $10 tickets. 

That was fairly typical for a development cycle. Things would always be getting broken and patched, smashed and fixed, dislodged and gaffer-taped, usually in the name of adding bells and whistles.

Perhaps part of the reason they move so quickly is that they have become efficient at fixing things. It’s a great capability to have, but I think it has bred complacency over the development choices they make.

I’ll give credit where it’s due – they are innovating and investing to make the game more enjoyable for recreational players (thus forcing others to do the same). However, these advances should not come at the expense of core game functionality. 

The feature that displays all-in percentages (that the superuser bent to their advantage) doesn’t need to be there. It’s a nice educational thing to have, but it’s dressing. 

If you are tasked with building a high security prison for a supervillain, then you shouldn’t waste time fussing over the curtains because you’d be an idiot to put in windows. You need to take the time to make good decisions and then execute them well.  

The problems don’t stop at maniacal hastiness. Transparency and accountability were also suspect whilst I was part of their UK operation.

I had regular trouble with data that I needed to do my role well. I was repeatedly assured by technical teams that there were no issues, or that monitoring mechanisms were in place to prevent problems, but it simply wasn’t the case. They were poor at acknowledging fault and opaque with explanations. 

It’s for those reasons that I can’t say I’m surprised that they were hit by a superuser. Unless they tighten up their approach to product improvement, then it’s likely to happen again. There is no place for complacency or world’s-biggest-poker-room arrogance.

This scandal won’t be the death of GGPoker, and nor should it be, but people ought to know a bit more about what it’s like at the industry’s leading site. One failure is forgivable, but anyone playing there should be vigilant.

As for every other operator, I hope they see this as a warning shot, and not simply a chance for schadenfreude and a market share grab.

The poker environment literally conditions its denizens to identify and exploit weakness, so know that clever, unscrupulous people will always be probing at the cracks. In a world of increasingly democratised and rapidly improving AI, that is only going to get worse.

For operators, it is impossible to know that your software is always secure, so every site should be monitoring their players’ win rates (and associated play) in real time. That is a big data and policing challenge, but in a world of increasingly democratised and rapidly improving AI, not an insurmountable one. 

That is how both known super users have been caught so far, and it’s almost certainly how the next one will be discovered. That burden belongs to the sites, not the players.

My Wagnum Opus

In the last blog, I finished with the promise that I’d talk about my most important contribution to the Isle of Man, and upon reflection, probably to the gambling industry in general. 

That’s a big claim considering I coined the term Freebuy (a portmanteau to describe tournaments that are a cross between a Freeroll and a Re-buy), which is still in light occasional use to this very day, and co-invented the wildly popular Coiny Coiny Shoe Shoe. 

But it wouldn’t be a proper ReluctantGambler blog if I got straight to the point, so allow me to moonwalk us back across the dancefloor of nostalgia with a little context.

There was a period in the late noughties where PokerStars staff were issued with random number generators (RNG) to make remote logins more secure. Nowadays these tokens are mostly managed with smartphone apps, but back then it was a little key ring with a six digit calculator screen.

Within minutes of their distribution, these devices were misappropriated for gambling games. Partly because the early core of PokerStars were degenerates, but also we were paid too much and taxed too little.

All the games were coin-flips at heart, but the complexity varied. In the simplest format the person whose RNG produced the highest number would win the prize. The most complicated was a tedious poker variant, where the numbers were treated like cards, and the best “hand” won. 

My preference was for a higher variance version where you added up your six numbers, then compared totals with your opponent. The lower number was the loser, and had to pay the difference in the scores to the winner. I tended to play best of three to prolong the torture. I’m not sure if I was attracted to the higher levels of jeopardy, or if I just liked doing maths. 

By the way, all the winnings were denominated in Fun Points. Talk of cash was forbidden, so we gambled in euphemisms. Luckily, one Fun Point was equal to one pound sterling, so reconciliation was easy and no-one had to pass around ratty Manx fivers. Fun fact, the Isle of Man government hasn’t replenished their stock of five pound notes since the reign of King Orry in 1079.

The RNG games were fun for a while, but there is something unsatisfying about a game where you just stare at a digital read-out for a minute waiting for the six digit number to change. It is not a joyful play experience.

So one night, whilst we were dabbling with a deck of Nintendo-themed playing cards, I suggested a game that I knew (from crappy dealer’s choice home games) as Mexican Heatwave. I’ve also played it as No Peak in the USA. 

It is a poker variation where everyone gets seven cards face down. The left of the dealer starts by turning over their first card. Each subsequent player then has to turn over their cards at random over until they have the best hand showing. The moment they have the best visible hand, they stop turning, and the next player begins. This continues until all of the cards are revealed and you can see who has the best hand.

Played “properly” there is a round of betting every time there is a new leader in the hand. In this authentic form, it is a truly terrible version of the game. Worse even than Razz, which is the poker equivalent of being waterboarded with hot Carlsberg.

But, if you just pay an entry fee of 10 Fun Points, then let the game play out, it’s really good fun. Now you have a game with twists, turns and tension, and still blissfully skill-free. 

The true innovation came, though, when I noticed there were a couple of unused Warios (a Nintendo joker) lying off to the side. I proposed we shuffle them in, and that if you turn over a Wario, then it kills off all the cards you had turned over until that point. Effectively forcing you to start again with a partial hand.

This had a twofold fun-boosting effect. Firstly, it allowed for the glee of Schadenfreude. That meant roughly 1 in 7 hands would be cruelly and hilariously ruined. Secondly, it prolonged the uncertainty. A runaway early leader remained at risk until their final card was safely exposed. As long as there were Warios left in the deck, calamity could still strike.

This was a big improvement to the game, but there was one final tweak to come. There was a rare case in which one player might get dealt both Warios. One was harsh and funny, but two seemed like overkill, so we decided to make it a good thing. 

If you were dealt both in the same hand, not only did your dead cards become live again, but both the Warios became wild, i.e. they could be any card you wanted them to be. That made it an almost guaranteed win.

This version, aptly referred to as Wario, caught on. By the time I left PokerStars (years later), there was a regular Friday lunchtime game that could involve upwards of 20 players, each putting in 20 Fun Points. 

That meant shuffling three decks together to ensure there were enough cards. It was pure magnificent gambling carnage. I’m told the game continues to be played, and I know that ex-staff have taken it with them to other companies. Wario lives on (albeit with boring normal decks).

Officially speaking, I’ve always shared the credit of the invention with at least two others, because I wouldn’t have come up with it on my own. But I think it’s fair to say I did a lot of the heavy lifting. 

The credit seems a minor, petty thing, but only a few months ago I received a 4am text asking me to resolve a dispute over the rightful origin story. 

That meant a lot to me, because it speaks to how good the game is, and confirms that people still care all these years later. That’s my kind of legacy.