18+ Only. Play Responsibly.
I picked a rocket because I thought it was cute.
Big, red, a little stubby — it looked safe. Playful. Like something that might launch fireworks and small wins and then fizzle politely into the sky like a slot machine trying to behave itself for the holidays. But I forgot this was BGaming. I forgot that “casual” is just a costume. And I forgot what happens when you hand your fate to a cartoon booster with a 10,000x payload and no brakes.
Always Up! x10000 didn’t take me to the sky.
It threw me through it.
Five rockets. One choice. No safety net. I clicked. It blinked. The countdown began — and before I could second guess anything, we were airborne. The reels fell away. The music vanished. It was just me, that dumb little rocket, and the rising numbers in the bottom corner telling me how fast hope can escalate. x3, x7, x19, x44… I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t blink. And then — bang.
It exploded like it knew I was watching.
Fireworks. Sparks. No explanation. Just a number — €864 — punched into my balance like a debt being repaid by fate itself. I laughed. Then I panicked. Then I bought another one.
Because this isn’t a slot anymore.
It’s a launchpad with delusions of godhood.
Always Up! x10000 is the kind of follow-up you don’t walk into — you fall. Face first. It looks friendly. It feels friendly. But beneath the soft edges and Chinese New Year color scheme is a multiplier system that wants to watch you disintegrate mid-air. It’s 5×3. Ten lines. Scatters on the base reels. Free Spins? Sure. Buy Bonus? Absolutely. But you’re not here for spins. You’re here to play Russian roulette with five animated rockets and pray yours doesn’t decide to detonate at x4 while the one you didn’t pick shoots off into the ionosphere with x9,990 taped to its tail.
There’s no sense of fairness here. Just math. Just cruelty. Just the illusion of choice stretched across a beautiful sky and lit on fire.
I got in again — three Scatters this time. Triggered the Bonus naturally. My finger hovered. Five rockets again. The green one this time. Maybe green was luckier. I clicked.
x2. x6. x10. x18. Still climbing.
The others exploded one by one — blue at x9. Purple at x31. Red at x76. My green stub was still going. I felt my chest tighten.
x92.
x108.
x—
It burst. A perfect puff of digital failure and confetti. My prize? €216. And the knowledge that if I’d picked yellow, I would’ve hit x297 and walked with €594 instead. BGaming doesn’t let you forget. It just lets you regret.
You want specifics? Fine. The slot runs at 96.05% RTP, but you’ll feel every decimal point. Very high volatility — which means even the good spins feel like being thrown off a mountain with a parachute you stitched yourself. Max win? €251,760. Or 10,490x if you prefer suffering in ratio form. But the real killer? Five Scatters = rocket potential up to x9,990. That’s not potential. That’s a threat.
And if you can’t wait for the triggers, there’s a Buy Bonus button. Or Mystery Buy, if you want to pay and then find out later what level of disaster you just purchased. It’s evil. It’s efficient. It’s impossible not to click.
At some point, the game gave me Free Spins — 10 of them. Symbols stripped down to high-pays, Scatters, Medals, and Wilds. I hit nothing. My spins were hollow. My bankroll, haunted. And just when I thought it was over, a Scatter dropped again. Bonus re-triggered. I bought in. I bought in. I bought in again. There is no exit button when you’re chasing skyborne justice.
And the sound design? Oh, it knows what it’s doing. Every rocket has its own whine. Its own little Doppler betrayal. The longer it flies, the louder it gets — until the silence of sudden failure slaps you across the temple like a frozen noodle of shame. Visually it’s all glowing red, golden trim, celebratory noise — but don’t be fooled. This is not a celebration. It’s a ceremony. A sacrifice. And you’re the one getting launched.
I started naming the rockets. That’s when I knew it was bad.
Charlie was loyal. Flew to x111 before fizzling out.
Lance was a traitor. Exploded on x6 and never looked back.
Juniper — my favorite — once carried me all the way to x762. €3,048. It felt like falling in love and surviving reentry.
But that’s the problem with Always Up! x10000. It gives you just enough. Just enough wins. Just enough logic. Just enough control. You pick the rocket. You push the button. It climbs. You hope. And every second of that journey, you convince yourself that this time, it’ll be the one that goes all the way.
Spoiler: it won’t.
Not because it can’t.
But because BGaming doesn’t build slots that climax.
They build machines that teeter on the edge of euphoria and then leave you hanging in midair — suspended above the jackpot, hands shaking, multiplier twitching, screen frozen — and then boom. Nothing.
Just charred sky and a number that’s not quite enough.
And yet I went back in.
Because it’s not about winning. It’s about chasing that flight — that perfect run where the rocket never stops. Where the engine stutters, gasps, kicks, and just keeps going. You want to see x999. You want to touch x2,997. You want to ride that x9,990 all the way to the edge of space and scream into the vacuum of the UI until your own win breaks the game.
But you won’t.
You’ll crash.
You’ll reload.
You’ll pick another rocket.
And you’ll call it Juniper. Again.
I tried to uninstall Lady of Fortune Remastered. It installed anxiety instead.