18+ Only. Play Responsibly.
The rainbow pot made a second field.
The moon pot looked at the second field and produced two more.
I now had four separate patches of Irish countryside respinning at once because one rainbow and one moon had apparently decided a single meadow could no longer contain the available luck.
A €4 Gold Pot locked in the upper-left field.
€1 landed in the lower-right.
The upper-right had two little pots already sitting there.
The fourth field was still mostly grass.
Above all four, the same rainbow stretched across the sky.
The chest responsible for this had gone back to sitting quietly at the edge of the screen.
Locked.
Gold trim.
Rainbow stripe down the middle.
Completely innocent again.
Area Link Ultimate Luck had just turned one bonus into four and immediately put the chest back where it belonged as though nothing unusual had happened.
I was still at €1.00.
The first respin on the lower-left field did nothing.
Its three attempts became two.
Upper-right caught another Gold Pot.
€2.
Back to three.
Upper-left remained on its €4.
Lower-right added another €1.
Four fields.
Four little countdowns.
One rainbow.
No leprechaun in sight to explain why luck had started reproducing.
That part had begun much earlier.
Thirty-five spins earlier, the game had looked like a fairly ordinary Irish argument between pub furniture and meteorology.
Green hills behind the reels.
A rainbow cutting through the sky.
Golden harps.
Beer mugs.
Red mushrooms with white spots.
Curled green shoes that looked built for feet with very specific opinions.
And the hat.
Bright green.
Clover on the front.
Gold buckle.
The sort of hat that immediately suggested its owner had hidden money somewhere nearby and was now prepared to waste my afternoon proving it.
I kept the bet at €1.00.
Five hats lined up early.
€5.00.
They disappeared on the next spin and were replaced by letters.
A.
K.
Q.
J.
Ten.
Nine.
All rendered in colours cheerful enough to make ordinary card ranks look mildly intoxicated.
A stacked Rainbow Wild arrived a few spins later.
Full vertical colour.
It cut through a harp line and helped €2.00 arrive.
Then the rainbow vanished.
A beer mug landed beside two mushrooms.
Nothing.
The game contained an actual rainbow Wild and still expected me to pay attention to mushrooms.
Then the first Gold Coin appeared.
Round.
Bright.
Different from everything else.
It did not behave like a normal symbol.
It flew upward.
The chest swallowed it.
The lid did not open.
I watched the chest for the entire next spin.
Nothing.
A harp paid €2.00 while I was still looking at the box.
The chest remained shut.
Another Gold Coin appeared seven spins later.
Up it went.
Into the rainbow chest.
Again, no opening.
The chest had now eaten two pieces of gold in a meadow already containing a rainbow, clovers, lucky shoes and a leprechaun hat.
Apparently local superstition had minimum requirements.
I kept spinning.
Five beer mugs brought €2.00.
A cluster of mushrooms arranged itself across a payline for another €2.00.
The shoes managed €2.00 later.
Then another shoe line repeated it.
By then the game had returned enough small bits of luck to stay alive without ever letting the chest become anything more than a brightly painted gold-eating object.
A third Gold Coin arrived.
The chest took it.
No movement.
I had stopped trusting the rainbow stripe on the lid.
The rainbow on the reels substituted for symbols.
The rainbow in the sky decorated the meadow.
The rainbow on the chest mostly watched me feed it money.
That was already three separate rainbows with completely different standards of behaviour.
A fourth Coin landed.
Up.
Gone.
Chest still closed.
The leprechaun hat appeared underneath it on the next spin, which felt suspiciously close to mockery without actually requiring a leprechaun.
A line of low symbols returned €1.00.
Another later gave me the same.
The base game kept slipping little pieces back.
Nothing large.
Nothing violent.
Just enough harps, shoes, mugs and brightly coloured letters to prevent the luck from becoming purely theoretical.
The chest kept getting fed.
Spin thirty-one put another Gold Coin on reel four.
It flew upward.
The rainbow chest flashed once.
I waited.
Nothing.
A red mushroom landed on the next spin.
Three mushrooms paid twenty cents.
The chest had consumed multiple pieces of gold.
The mushroom had just handed me loose change.
Irish wealth had become difficult to rank.
Spin thirty-five brought one more Gold Coin.
It rose.
The chest took it.
This time the lid erupted.
Rainbow light flooded the meadow.
Pots appeared above the reels.
Several colours flashed by.
Then Purple stopped.
Rainbow.
Cyan stopped beside it.
Moon.
The game barely gave me time to register either before the field divided.
Two.
Then four.
That was where the opening began.
The Purple Rainbow Pot had doubled the Area Link.
The Cyan Moon had doubled the doubling.
One green field became four smaller ones while the rainbow remained stretched over all of them like the sky had approved the duplication.
Each field began with three respins.
Gold Pots started dropping.
The upper-left field already had €4.
Its next spin landed €2.
Locked.
Back to three.
Then €1.
Locked.
Three again.
€7 sat there.
The remaining positions spun.
Nothing.
Two.
Nothing.
One.
The final gaps turned.
No new pot.
Upper-left finished at €7.
One meadow complete.
Three still behaving badly.
The upper-right field had €1, €1 and €2 locked.
Its next respin gave me nothing.
Then a €5 Gold Pot landed.
The whole little patch flashed.
Three spins again.
€9.
I immediately stopped caring that the first field had finished.
The upper-right had become the rich side of the rainbow.
Three empty respins later, it stopped at €9.
The lower-left was having a much quieter life.
€0.50.
Then €1.
A new Gold Pot arrived for another €1.
Reset.
One more landed at €3.
€5.50.
It had taken four separate pieces of gold to produce slightly more than the single €5 pot in the field above it.
Nobody in the meadow appeared embarrassed.
The rainbow remained magnificent.
The fourth field was still alive.
Lower-right had started with €1.
Then another €1.
A respin passed empty.
€2 landed.
Back to three.
Then €4.
€8 total.
The remaining spaces tried.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Last attempt.
For a moment a new pot looked possible.
The position stopped empty.
Done.
Four fields settled under the same rainbow.
€7.
€9.
€5.50.
€8.
€29.50 altogether.
I had spent most of the base game feeding gold into a chest that refused to open.
When it finally did open, it produced a rainbow pot and a moon pot, which produced four separate fields, which produced enough Gold Pots to cover half the screen, which finally produced twenty-nine euros and fifty cents.
There were easier ways for luck to arrive.
This one had apparently taken the scenic route through every charm Ireland had available.
Before the chest opened, 35 €1.00 spins had cost €35.00.
The hats, harps, beer, shoes, mushrooms, letters and one useful stacked Rainbow Wild had returned €19.60.
I entered Ultimate Luck €15.40 down.
The four little fields put me €14.10 ahead.
I returned to the base game.
The meadow recombined.
One grid again.
The extra fields disappeared.
The purple Rainbow Pot vanished.
The cyan Moon vanished.
The rainbow in the sky remained.
Of course it did.
That one apparently belonged to the landscape and had tenure.
I gave the game six more €1.00 spins.
First spin.
Beer mug.
Mushroom.
Hat.
Nothing.
Second.
A stacked Rainbow Wild appeared with letters around it but failed to turn them into anything useful.
Third spin produced four hats for €1.00.
The fourth put a harp line together for twenty cents.
The fifth gave three mushrooms another twenty cents.
On the sixth, three beer mugs returned the final twenty cents.
€1.60 back from €6.00.
The session finished €9.70 ahead.
No second Ultimate Luck.
No new four-field outbreak.
No purple pot.
No moon pot.
The chest remained shut.
The final grid had a green hat, a beer mug, one mushroom and several coloured letters scattered across it.
Above them, the rainbow was still stretched across the meadow.
After watching one rainbow create four separate fields of gold, I was no longer prepared to call that background decoration.
Wild Ape #3258 paid 5x and asked for a tip.