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.