When the Game Stops Feeling Like Fun: A Quiet Awakening in the Digital Age

I used to think winning was the point.

I worked for years as a behavioral analyst on online platforms where players chased bonuses like constellations—each spin a flare of dopamine, each win a fleeting star in an empty sky. My mother, a Jamaican nurse, would say: ‘You don’t play to win. You play to remember who you are.’ She didn’t believe in algorithms. She believed in breath.

I now sit alone in my shared flat near Shoreditch, listening to midnight silence after scrolling one more round. The games don’t stop because they’re broken. They stop because we forgot why we started.

The ‘White Ram’ metaphor was never about luck or fate. It was about rhythm—the slow build of patience between losses, the quiet transformation when you close your eyes and hear your own heartbeat again.

I’ve seen young women log their wins like sacred poems—not because they wanted more cash, but because they needed to feel seen.

We don’t play for high RTPs or VIP tiers. We play for the space between spins—the pause before the next button lights up—and that’s where healing lives.

If you’re reading this at 2 a.m., alone with headphones on, wondering if it meant anything… you’re not broken.

You’re still here.

And so am I.