Warning: The subject of this article contains depictions of mature themes, such as gambling addiction, that are unsuitable for younger audiences. Reader discretion is advised.

I recently purchased CloverPit because it was described to me as “Balatro, but with slot machines instead of poker.” I absolutely suck at Balatro, though I suspect a major reason for that is that I don’t really have the necessary knowledge and skills to play poker effectively. That got me to wondering: If everything that relied on skill and knowledge was removed from a game like Balatro, would my rather checkered history with Lady Luck make me any more successful at CloverPit? Well, standard Backlog Busting rules dictate that I have a maximum of two hours to find out. Let’s begin!

In CloverPit, you wake up to find yourself locked in a room surrounded by the following: A chest of drawers, a ticket dispenser, an ancient computer, an utterly filthy toilet, a wall-mounted landline telephone (ask your parents), an ATM, and a slot machine with a tempting red button on it. You hear a voice over an intercom that tells you what you must do. You’ll need to win a certain number of coins by gambling at the slot machine and deposit that amount into the ATM within three rounds. Fail to do so, and you’ll meet a terrible fate.

You also notice that the only thing beneath your feet is a grate that looks like it could swing open at any moment. That’s precisely what will happen if you fail to pay each round’s assigned debt by the end of the third round, which results in you falling to your death. At the start of each round, you have a choice to make at the slot machine: You can increase the number of times you get to spin the slot machine before the round ends, or get fewer spins and receive an extra Clover Ticket at the end of that round.

Clover Tickets are what you use to purchase lucky charms between rounds that benefit you in various ways. Some of these items’ effects only trigger when you press that big, red button on the slot machine. That will make any applicable lucky charms affect your next spin of the slot machine. I think it’s reasonable to assume our readership knows how slot machines work. However, it’s important to note that many different patterns of symbols on the slot machine reward you within CloverPit. If every symbol is the same after you spin the slot machine, that counts as a jackpot.

There are helpful posters on the walls on either side of the slot machine that tell you how many coins each symbol is worth, what patterns of symbols count as wins, and a few other tidbits of useful information. As long as you’re not using the slot machine, you can look around and move around as freely as possible within the very cramped space surrounding you. This means you can view those posters at any time by either moving your mouse around or pressing the Q and E keys, depending on whether or not you’re actively using the slot machine.

Once you’ve approached the slot machine and chosen how many spins you’ll have that round, you can’t leave the slot machine until you’ve used all your available spins. As you win coins and get closer to meeting each debt deadline, you can deposit coins toward your debt ahead of time. This will give you extra coins between rounds as an interest payment, depending on how many coins you’ve deposited. The ATM screen will display everything you’ll need to know as far as coins are concerned.

You can unlock new items that can show up in future runs by meeting all sorts of requirements. For example, you can unlock two such items by urinating and defecating in the toilet in your cell, even though I wouldn’t go near that toilet if I had all the disinfectant spray in the world. That’s the kind of humor you can expect within CloverPit. I admit it’s rather low-brow, but I personally have no problem with that. Whenever you’ve unlocked any new items that can be bought with Clover Tickets, you’ll be notified via email on that ancient computer I mentioned.

After each time you clear a debt deadline, the phone will ring; you’re expected to answer it. You might be able to choose a new beneficial passive effect, or be forced to choose a negative effect. Whether the phone conversation is typed in white or red will dictate which of those two situations you’re in. In the former case, it seems you briefly get to speak to a friend or family member your character knew before they wound up in this gambling-obsessed circle of Hell. In the latter case, I’d imagine your character is either talking to an evil entity or hallucinating.

After you clear the second deadline in a run, you’ll then have to contend with the possibility that the number 666 might appear in a consecutive pattern on the slot machine for the rest of the run. If that happens, you’ll lose all the money you’ve won during that round of spins. The odds of encountering “the number of the beast” start quite low, but can be increased by chance via certain Clover Ticket items and phone calls. I wonder if any of the members of Iron Maiden have ever had that happen while they’ve been out trying their luck?

Once you clear a certain number of debt deadlines, you’ll be able to grab a key that the voice on the intercom refers to as “your final reward.” The first four of these keys will unlock one of the four drawers behind you; any drawers you unlock will subsequently be available from then on. You can use drawers to store lucky charms if you’ve reached the limit you’re allowed to have, and you’ll occasionally find other items when you open any of them.

It’s games like Balatro and CloverPit that make it abundantly obvious to me how easy it is for people to become addicted to gambling in real life. I’ve always been a terrible gambler, and yet I’ve (thankfully) always been able to resist the allure of real casinos. I became so absorbed by CloverPit that I had to set an alarm on my phone to remind me to stop playing before I exceeded my two-hour limit, and I’m very glad I had the forethought to do that. I began writing this article with just three minutes of my allotted time remaining.

On the other hand, it’s also games like CloverPit, Balatro, and (in a much different sense) Buckshot Roulette that allow me to explore what gambling is like and get that curiosity out of my system much more safely. Obviously, no real-world money is at stake in any of these games, and even if my unseen characters end up dying repeatedly because of my bad luck, I continue to exist on the mortal plane. Games of this ilk have shown me why I should never gamble for real, and I’m grateful for that, as weird as that is to think about.

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David Sanders

David Sanders is, at his core, a man who's just trying to get through his game backlog before the heat death of the universe, and yet can't seem to stop adding to said game backlog. He greatly enjoys many different varieties of games, particularly several notable RPGs and turn-based strategy titles. When he's not helping to build or plan computers for friends, he can usually be found gaming on his personal machine or listening to an audiobook to unwind.

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