As Diablo Pororo, the flamboyant master of chance, I spent another glorious day in the sea of thrills that is the gambling world. Today's chosen fancy was a high-stake game of Texas Hold’em; an event filled with wild-eyed dreamers, cutthroat professionals, and of course, me, Diablo Pororo—the wanderer with his own brand of unique sleight-of-hand.
The strategy today? Picture Famine. Picture the struggle, the ferocity of desperate survival, the need to keep and secure whatever meager morsels you have. Well, I call it the Famine System. This isn't for the faint-hearted; it requires patience, impeccable readiness, and sometimes, downright audacity.
As I perched by the baize of the luxurious seven-player poker table in the swanky underground casino in Manhattan, the first thing to do was to enter the mindset of famine. Be frugal with your initial stakes. Conserve. Be the player that others underestimate, think of as "tight" or "safe".
I started with small bets for the opening rounds, never showing my excitement over good hands or disappointment over bad ones. My untiring poker face was crucial in giving the impression of a player overprotective of his stakes—a veritable image of famine within the abundance of the poker table.
This allowed me to observe, to measure up my opponents while remaining inconspicuous, sinking deep into the covers of over-careful gameplay.
The second part is a bit more risky. The Pivot. Brush away the mousy image you've so carefully cultivated and play a hand aggressively. I chose when the flop showed two Jacks. I went in hard. The table was stunned. Players who valued their chips folded immediately, throwing sideways glances my way. The two still interested raised. My heart pounded, but my face, stony and resolute, responded to their raise and added to it.
The dealer continued flipping cards, each one amplifying the tension coiled around the table like a Python sinking its teeth into its victim. The river, final among the unknown cards and my savior—the third Jack.
Their suspicious gazes turned into marvel. I had a Full House. They didn't see it coming. The seemingly frail player who wept against the famine had just become a force to reckon with.
The Decoy, the last part, then pushed in to play. I reverted to playing sparingly, watching as the other players, now alert, scrambled for control. They tried to read and counter my every move, never realizing I had caught a whiff of fear in them by then.
When I was sure that the table was sufficiently scared of another 'Pivot,' I pushed all my chips into the center. The all-in move was met with gasps and Hollywood-style slow head turns. It was a bluff.
The others, traumatists by my earlier aggression, folded one by one. The pot was mine—as enormous as the Gobi, as devoid of competition as an empty street in the small hours.
Sure, there's always a risk with the Famine System. It's as bold as the boldest of gambles can be. But when you're Diablo Pororo, nothing gives you more thrill than a move inspired by desperation but executed with calculated patience and audacity.
See you at the tables, if you dare.