Devil's Roulette

Four of us sat around the table to play a game of life or death. The oval table rested awkwardly in the center of a large, empty room. A figure slowly circled us, each step creaking against the old wooden floor. He carried a set of cards, and although my eyes were still struggling to adjust to the dim light, it was obvious they did not belong to any ordinary deck.

“This game is high-risk, high-reward. Play honestly and you may walk out of this room with a fortune. Lie and you may lose everything you hold dear,” the figure’s voice echoed. His face was entirely hidden, covered behind a mask engraved in an intricate red-and-black pattern. He called himself the operator. A fitting name, I suppose, since he seemed to be the only one in the room with any authority.

Each one of us was assigned our own side on the table. To my right sat an old lady, presumably in her 60s based on her wrinkled and fragile skin. Dressed in a dusty old sweater, it wrapped around her uncomfortably, filled with tiny worn out holes. She looked thinly sick. In anxiousness, she constantly fidgeted with her bare finger on her left hand. Directly across me, sat a middle-aged man, somewhere in his 40s. He was pudgy, balding, and dressed entirely in black.

Rather than being nervous, he instead appeared indifferent to the whole situation. Finally, to my left sat a younger man, possibly in his late 20s, wearing a slick jacket paired with a gold chain and a shiny hairdo. He oozed brashness simply through his mannerisms.

“Before we begin the game, I’d like to ask all the players whether any of you believes in faith or any higher power?” the operator asked.

The question got mocked in response through a single scoff and nothing more. I didn’t catch who on the table had reacted this way, but it was understood that everybody else agreed with it. I wasn’t surprised, but I was disappointed nevertheless. Non-believers. All of them.

“The game we will be playing today is called The Devil’s Roulette,” the operator continued. “Each player will be handed three cards. A red card, a yellow card, and a green card. The game is simple. Each player picks one card: green means you win, yellow means you draw, and red means you lose. If everyone chooses green, everyone splits the Grand Prize. If everyone chooses yellow, then everyone walks away - no harm no gain. If everyone chooses red, then everybody loses. However, if only a single player picks red, then they win the entire Grand Prize and everybody else loses instead.”

The players were specifically chosen and invited to this event. At first everybody received an anonymous invitation to participate in this surreptitious game of chance - which most people would declare as a scam. But then, everybody was sent tickets that covered travel to the event in Vegas, with some additional cash to blow. That’s when skepticism slowly starts getting replaced by excitement. Lastly, the amount for the Grand Prize gets announced, which - with the number of zeros in the end - is impossible to ignore. An opportunity that sounds too good to be true makes a person believe that the God of Luck himself personally chose them. Most people would still claim the entire ordeal to be dubious. But, people like us accept. The ones that make it to the dark room. The ones who are addicted.

For people like us, it was the adrenaline that mattered the most. There’s a numbness that hits and the heart starts racing. The rush that hits upon anticipation. The idea that you are toying with chance. That was the feeling addicts like us chased. Winning made you feel like God. Like luscious thoughts of biting through the sweet nectar of the holy fruit.

“So, if only one person picks red, everybody else loses even if they picked green?” the old lady asked first.

“Correct,” the operator answered.

“Look… I’m not asking for sympathy, but I could really use the money. My husband has been sick, and the medical bills have blown through all our savings. Even at this age, I’m not able to retire and I’m forced to earn a living,” the old lady said.

“Lady we all have our fucking problems. You’re not the only one struggling,” the middle-aged man snarled. His voice was raspy. A smoker, I assumed.

“Yeah. And not to be rude but you’ve already lived your life. I’m only twenty-eight. I’ve got a whole life ahead of me to spend this money,” the youngster said.

“You know your age doesn’t necessarily warrant how much longer you’ll be alive,” I said. The young man faced me like he was offended by what I said.

I knew the cards had nothing to do with the real game. There was no luck involved. The real draw were the players themselves. Each one a stranger with their own luggage of problems that they’ve been lifting their whole lives. There was no way to determine whose luggage was heavier; or whose would fill up more in the future. Everybody wants the money - everybody wants to win. Does anybody deserve it more than the other in a room of strangers?

“What the hell does it even matter? Not like you really lose anything… you just don’t win,” the middle-aged man said.

“That’s not entirely true, Player 3,” the operator butted in. “Now that you all have understood how the cards work, I would like to raise the stakes of the game. The game isn’t fun if there’s nothing to lose now, is it? Should you accept to play the game, then each participant shall place a bet on something personal. Something other than money that holds sentimental value to you.”

Nervousness loomed in the air. Everybody dissolved deep in thought. They had a chance out of this game right now if they were opposed because once they agreed to raise the stakes nobody knew how risky the game could get, and then there might be no way out of the game. Of course, I knew how things were going to play out. The reward was too large for people like us to surrender away from.

After a moment’s silence, everybody nodded in agreement.

“Excellent. Then we will start with Player 1,” the operator pointed towards the old lady. “What would you like to wager into the game?”

“Well, I do not have much.” the old lady spoke after a moment’s thought. “But I do have an antique diamond ring that has been passed down through generations. My mother gave it to me on the day I got married and even to this day, it holds its weight in value.”

“Very well then, antique jewelry it is. Now, Player 2, you shall raise the stakes of the game and wager something of equal or higher value.”

“Let’s see,” the youngster began. “I could raise the stakes with a lot of things but what comes to mind fresh is my newly bought Corvette. I’d like to wager that.”

“A sports car it is. Now, Player 3, what will you like to wager?”

“To match a sports car?” the middle-aged man grunted. “Shit, the only thing that I have that can rival that is my apartment condo. It’s a piece of crap 2 beds in a shitty neighborhood but it’s still worth something.”

“Wonderful. Now, finally to the last person on the table. What would you like to wager?”

Material things… that’s all they ever care about. Putting so much value on something so tangible. Something so breakable. Pathetic. But their perspective is very different from mine.

I was born into wealth, and privilege, and was handed every luxury that I wanted. But that wasn’t satisfying enough; life had become a bore. I needed entertainment. A challenge that could amuse me. Something unpredictable that could excite me.

I like to believe that all my experiences had been shaped for this moment as I answered: “I’d like to wager what is most precious to me. My life.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” the middle-aged man erupted.

“That means that the stakes of the game have been raised to each of your lives, Player 3. If you lose, you die,” the operator clarified.

The entire room tensed up. The risk had been raised as high as it could have, with the satisfaction I sought playing with lives. I wish Father was here - he would’ve been proud.

“Is this a prank? There’s no way our lives are at stake, right?” the old lady asked. Her hands trembled.

“This is a very serious game, Player 1. Remember, high risk equals high reward.”

“What kind of game is this? This is bullshit,” the middle-aged man began.

“Go ahead and pick the yellow card then, old man,” the youngster interrupted.

“Look kid, I’m not going to sit around and take crap from you. Do you really think anything happening here is legal?”

“Sounds like you’re just scared. Maybe you should…”

“Shut the fuck up. You don’t even belong here.”

“Could you two stop bickering?” the old lady joined the commotion.

I quietly observed, in plenty of amusement, as chaos ensued within the room. God had intended to create civilized beings, but in reality they were savages who’d leap at each other’s throats, and that too for a fabricated system like money.

“Ok, listen up,” the middle-aged man raised his voice. “It is clear that all of us want to win. I mean it’d be stupid to pick anything except the green card. So why don’t we all just pick the green card, evenly split the prize, and walk away with more money than we came in with.”

The proposition hung quietly in the room as the words echoed into everybody’s mind. Obviously, nobody liked the idea of dividing the Grand Prize, but it was still the safest play. It guarantees you a win and you get to keep the stakes that you raised. It would be foolish to pick anything else, right?

“I agree. It is the safest play,” I said.

“Some money is better than no money, I suppose. I’d like to pick green as well,” the old lady said.

Finally, the youngster took a moment to speak and eventually agreed to picking green as well.

“Very well then. If nobody has any more questions or concerns we will commence with the game. Each player shall flip the card they choose to play. Remember, the red card is on your left, the yellow card to the middle, and the green card to your right,” the operator said.

Each player moved with hesitation as they found their respective card and flipped it over.

“Now you may all take off your blindfolds,” the operator instructed.

Each player removed their blindfold in excitement. This was the moment I cherished the most, as I waited for their eyes to adjust to the dim room. They were fools. All of them. Shock replaced eagerness in their eyes as realization dawned on them. All three players had picked the red card.

The youngster next to me was the first to notice the single yellow card that was laid open in front of me. The other two players followed their sights towards me in astonishment.

“What does this mean..?” the old lady said quietly with fear in her eyes as she looked at me.

“You all lose,” I smirked.

All three of the players had picked red, hoping that the rest would pick green based on their agreement. But people like them play with deceit. Throwing everything on chance just for a shot to possibly win it all. Even the threat of Death itself looming around didn’t deter them from their visions of winning the Grand Prize.

The shock had turned them all speechless. Their bodies had begun dissipating and within a few minutes the pain would start registering in their nimble brains - that is when they would begin screaming. I doubt any of them had expected to actually die, but they had been warned. It wasn’t as if they had played the game fairly either. Aside from lying to each other they had all gambled away fabrications of themselves.

The old lady, who tried gaining sympathy for her dying husband, had spent years worth of life savings on lottery tickets. She had already sold the ring she had mentioned, in order to buy more lotteries. Hospital bills raked up while she spent everything in hopes of winning the jackpot.

Similarly, the middle-aged man was a gambling addict wasting away his life in the casino. The condo he had raised the stakes of the game with was under process to go into foreclosure by the bank.

Lastly, the youngster falsely advertised a luxurious lifestyle while in reality he was swimming in debt. After borrowing money from shady people he’d spend it all on sports betting, believing that one day he surely will hit big. He didn’t own the comfort and luxury he lived with, but instead it was a facade to maintain appearances.

Screams erupted in the room as the pain started to settle in and their torment began. Their screeches soothed me and I especially liked it when they begged for mercy. In a way, these people aren’t too different from me - we only care about our own satisfaction. Father would’ve been proud if he were here.