The Masks of the Game

[JamiPozcord]

How would I begin saying it? I think it would be: We are actors on a constantly televised stage!

This thought has stayed with me since the moment we step into the casino. At first, you enter as a novice, a spectator, curious. You tell yourself, “Shall I give it a try?” without great expectations, without a master plan. Just the excitement of the performance. That spark that doesn’t seem dangerous or transcendental. But over time, I found myself in each session wearing a different mask:

The first mask was the one of enthusiasm, that light smile when you win something small and feel like you’ve discovered a secret of the universe.

Then came the mask of the strategist.
The one who analyzes, calculates, controls. The one who convinces himself that everything is discipline and method.

And yes, the mask of silence also appeared, the one you wear when you lose and don’t want anyone to notice the frustration. The one that tells everyone, “I’m fine!” even though inside you’re reviewing every decision.

Games don’t change who you are, but they do amplify what you carry within. In each session, we come to discover things about ourselves that we didn’t know were there. My impression of some of the masks you come to recognize, both in yourself and in others, would be like these I will mention.

The Mask of the Winner

When you win, you walk differently. You don’t notice it at first, but your posture changes, your confidence grows. You feel like you understand the rhythm, that you’re in sync with the game. The danger is believing that this mask is permanently who you are. Because the casino, like life, does not keep the same script every day.

The Mask of the One Who Chases

This one is quieter. It appears when you say, “Just one more round.”
It is not pure ambition, but it is usually very subtle. The game can be entertainment, but if you don’t guard your identity, little by little you become a character you don’t recognize.

The Mask of the Addict

I have seen transformations from one mask to another. People who started playing for fun and ended up playing out of an uncontrollable impulse, and others who began without control and, over the years, found discipline.

This mask carries all the others beneath it. It has a beginning, it has knowledge, it has many winnings, it pursues a clear objective: to win at all costs. It stops being the person and begins living as a mask.

On the stage, it is part of the script
for actors to wear their masks so they can also hide their emotions.
We show confidence when we doubt.
We show calm when we are tense.
We show indifference when, in reality, we care more than we admit.

I learned that playing is also about knowing yourself. Knowing when you are acting and when you are being authentic.

The masks of the game can bring good things: discipline, emotional control, learning. But they can also bring impulsiveness, pride, emotional exhaustion. The difference lies in the limits. In understanding that it’s not about removing all the masks. It’s about knowing that you are wearing them.

Because when you are aware, you choose.
And when you choose, the game becomes what it should be again: an experience, not an identity.

In the end, what matters most is not how long you have been playing. It is whether, after all that time, when you look at yourself without a mask, you still recognize who you are.