18+ Only. Play Responsibly.
The Ticket Master sent the train fifteen stations forward before the first Free Spin had happened.
Then he produced a ticket.
+1.
The reels shifted left.
The first reel disappeared.
Station 16.
Money was added to the win.
Nothing about this appeared to trouble him.
Civilisation had ended, the landscape outside was yellow with whatever event had made gas masks fashionable, the train appeared capable of carrying nuclear weapons, a sniper and a necromancer were apparently valid railway personnel, and someone had still preserved the ticketing system.
More impressively, the ticket itself could move the train.
I had triggered the Super Free Spins on €2.
Two Bonus symbols had landed with the Ticket Master on the twenty-third paid spin.
He appeared among the symbols, the screen changed and the train jumped directly to Station 15 before anything inside the bonus had even started.
That mattered because Station 15 was where the journey stopped pretending to be public transport.
Bombers were now available.
So was the Pyromancer.
Money Train 5 had crossed fifteen stations and reached the part of the railway network where setting sections of the train on fire counted as an upgrade.
My balance was €335.20.
I had started at €360.
The journey there had been comparatively restrained.
Five reels.
Four rows.
Forty paylines.
Masked gunmen.
A blonde woman carrying a weapon.
A heavily armoured figure who looked capable of surviving whatever had happened to the timetable.
Card-suit symbols filled the less dangerous positions.
The train itself occupied most of the screen, an enormous steel machine travelling through a poisoned industrial landscape where the sky had settled on a colour normally associated with warnings.
For several spins, nothing much happened.
Then crosshairs appeared.
They locked onto two reels.
Nuclear bombs dropped into position.
One became part of a win.
The bomb expanded until the entire reel was Wild.
€16.80.
A nuclear device had gone off inside a train and improved the payline.
That remained the biggest event of the base game.
A few smaller combinations contributed another €4.40.
Then the Ticket Master arrived with the two Bonus symbols and normal railway standards ended completely.
His opening action left me at Station 16 before the first proper Free Spin.
The feature still showed three spins.
Every new arrival could reset that countdown.
The first spin landed a few ordinary value symbols and a Payer.
The Payer showed 4x.
The values around it increased.
Then a +2 ticket appeared.
Tickets acted last.
That gave me enough time to watch the symbols finish whatever they were doing before the entire arrangement moved two positions left.
The first reel went.
Then the next.
Both added their totals to the win as they disappeared.
Station 17.
Station 18.
Two reels had effectively been thrown off a moving post-apocalyptic train because a small orange ticket said +2.
A new reel entered from the right.
The Free Spin counter returned to three.
That was when I stopped paying much attention to the ordinary symbols.
The station number was better.
Station 18.
Two more and something else happened.
The next spin brought the Pyromancer.
He burned a Hot Zone into part of the train.
A section of the reels glowed.
A Collector landed inside it.
The Hot Zone upgraded him to persistent.
This was excellent news for the Collector and slightly more difficult news for basic fire safety.
From then on, every new spin brought him back into action.
Values landed.
He collected them into himself.
Another symbol arrived.
Countdown back to three.
The Collector collected again.
The train now had a man whose entire purpose was accumulating whatever numbers were visible, and the only reason he had permanent employment was that another man had set his position on fire.
Station 18 remained on the meter.
An Arms Dealer landed next.
He looked at one of the ordinary bonus values and converted it into a Sniper.
The Sniper immediately acted.
Three targets flashed.
One doubled.
Another doubled.
A third doubled.
The Arms Dealer had successfully converted money into a marksman, which was not necessarily the safest interpretation of liquidity, but the train had long since moved beyond safe interpretations of anything.
The persistent Collector activated after the new spin.
More values entered him.
Then came a +1 ticket.
Everything finished acting.
The train shifted.
Another reel left.
Station 19.
Its accumulated value joined the feature win.
One station remained.
A normal value landed on the next spin.
The counter reset.
The Collector acted.
No ticket.
The train stayed at 19.
Another spin.
Nothing new.
Two spins remained.
Then the screen produced a +1.
I watched the ticket.
The symbols acted first.
The Collector gathered another set of values.
The ticket waited until everyone else was finished.
Then it moved the reels.
One position left.
One reel out.
Its full value paid.
Station 20.
The Permanent Payer activated.
There are railway milestones where a buffet car opens.
There are stations where passengers change trains.
Station 20 on this route activated a man whose job was to keep adding value to everything until the feature ended.
He appeared outside the ordinary flow of symbols and remained active.
Any new Payer could strengthen him.
He would act after the other specialists, apart from the tickets.
The train had reached a point where even the money had acquired permanent staff.
The next spin landed a Bomber.
He revealed 3x.
Every visible value multiplied.
The Collector, still sitting in the burnt Hot Zone, reacted again.
He absorbed another field of enlarged numbers into himself.
The Permanent Payer followed.
More value spread across the surviving symbols.
Then the ticket arrived.
+2.
Two reels left the train.
The first paid €46.80.
The second carried enough multiplied values to contribute €79.20.
Station 21.
Station 22.
The win counter moved sharply.
Three spins returned because the ticket itself had landed as something new.
The train now had fewer of its original reels, more money, a permanent payer, a fireproof Collector and a Bomber who had just multiplied everything in sight.
There were still specialists I had not seen.
The game provided one.
Necromancer.
He landed near the middle.
A dark effect moved across the reels.
The Bomber returned.
So did the Sniper.
Death, apparently, was a temporary scheduling conflict.
The resurrected Bomber revealed 2x.
Visible values doubled.
The Sniper selected his targets.
One symbol flashed once.
Then again.
The same target had been hit twice.
Its value doubled, then doubled again.
The persistent Collector activated after them and took another enormous sweep of visible value into himself.
Then the Permanent Payer followed and increased the field again.
I was no longer looking at the total win.
The order of events required full attention.
Bomber.
Sniper.
Collector.
Permanent Payer.
Ticket last.
The train had become a weaponised arithmetic problem with wheels.
A +3 ticket landed.
Three.
That small rectangle was more dangerous than half the people carrying firearms.
Everything completed its actions.
Then the reels began moving.
One left.
Station 23.
Another.
Station 24.
The third went.
Station 25.
Each reel paid its accumulated total as it disappeared.
The win counter passed €400.
New reels entered from the right.
Three spins reset.
For the first time since Station 20, the next spin contained nothing new.
Two remaining.
The persistent Collector still performed his action because he was already there, but no fresh symbol arrived to refill the counter.
Another spin.
Nothing.
One remaining.
The Permanent Payer remained.
The Collector remained.
The Hot Zone still burned.
No Bomber.
No Sniper.
No Arms Dealer.
No Necromancer.
No ticket.
The final spin began with the strange quiet of a military train that had temporarily run out of specialists.
Symbols settled.
One ordinary bonus value landed.
New symbol.
Three spins again.
The train refused to finish.
The Collector immediately collected it.
The Permanent Payer acted.
Then a +1 ticket landed alongside them.
Everything moved left again.
Station 26.
Another reel paid as it left.
The feature total crossed €500.
The next few spins finally became less enthusiastic.
One produced nothing new.
Two left.
Another produced nothing.
One.
The final spin settled.
No specialist.
No fresh value.
No ticket.
The train stayed at Station 26.
The countdown reached zero.
€538.40.
My balance climbed to €873.60.
I had started with €360.
I did not take another paid spin.
The feature cleared away, leaving the ordinary game inside the armoured train again.
Masked figures.
Card suits.
Steel walls.
That toxic yellow sky.
After a pyromancer had improved part of a railway carriage by burning it, an arms dealer had manufactured a sniper from a cash symbol, a bomber had multiplied the contents of the train, a necromancer had brought both of them back for another shift and a permanent payer had boarded at Station 20 to make the remaining journey more expensive, the smallest object had still done most of the travelling.
A ticket.
+1.
On this train, that was enough to remove an entire reel.
Gigablox Kingdom is less a slot, more a slow-motion prank.