The Infinite Bleakness of Spending a Night at Victoria's Most Profitable Pokies

Approaching from the car park, the Epping Plaza Hotel looks like any other ticky-tacky plastic venue in Melbourne. Bad music, bright lights, and a façade that was probably a rejected set-design from the Fifth Element.

With 100 electronic gambling machines, the place is a pokies juggernaut. While their website doesn't even mention the machines, according to this article in The Age the Epping is the most profitable pokies bar in Melbourne. Last year punters punted, and subsequently lost a collective $21,750,522 at the venue. For those counting at home, that's an average of over $200,000 per machine.

As I walked into the foyer, the loitering security provided the first signs something wasn't normal about the place. There were more bouncers than most city nightclubs, with the lead guy sporting stitches on his forehead. It didn't take long to work out why the place needed the extra security. Past the nearly deserted bistro and rows of tropical plants lies the Epping Plaza Hotel's main attraction: the pokies farm. I suppose jamming so many machines together is a bit like running a Timezone made of ATM machines. Of course these ATMs take and don't give, but they present an obvious security liability.

Looking at the rows of screens and buttons in person, I was transfixed by that figure of $21,750,522. Imagine how long it'd take to stuff that much cash through a small slot. Not only does it sound like a Sisyphean task, but it'd undoubtedly leave a dent in your income.

The venue's marketing describes a "laid-back bar" with "classic pub grub." The main bar itself was certainly laid back, in the sense it was completely deserted at 10 PM on a Friday.

Instead, all activity in the hotel orbited around the pokie pit, which had its own smaller bar. Armed with a reasonably priced beer, I headed to the pokies for a flutter, passing through an 18+ sign and what may be Australia's saddest Easter promotional display.

The pokies were loud and bustling. The gamblers straddled a broad range of ages, and were broadly split between the genders. The pokies themselves gurgled out a stream of Pavlovian dings and whistles, while their signage displayed all the classic racial stereotypes: long bearded "Orientals" (their words, not mine), Native Americans in headdresses, Irish leprechauns, and an enthusiastic Mexican under a heading that read "More Chilli."

As I sat down at this Indian-themed machine Cascada's 2007 hit "I Need a Miracle" started blaring from the hotel speakers. Either the staff had a cruel sense of irony, or no-one was paying much attention.

For those that haven't played (i.e. lost at) pokies before, the machines can be confusing. Each one has about 12 possible ways to place a bet, with implications of each option opaque to say the least.

Luckily, the machine had a series of helpful diagrams, which cleared things up. The multitude of betting options offered the illusion of control, when in fact there's only one choice: lose.

The guy to my right seemed to have reached this conclusion long ago, as he ignored the rows of buttons and just hit the last bet option with a metronome-like rhythm.

The group of older women to my left grappled with the problem more thoughtfully, dithering over the buttons, trying to decide which betting combination would best wither away their pension. Some of the customers had grown so attached to their machines that they hung large "reserved" signs over the screen if they stepped away.

A few dozen button presses later I had doubled my initial investment, and decided I was doing it wrong. A display of kangaroo-themed pokies under a plasma screen showing the AFL caught my eye. It was probably the most Australian thing I have ever seen: roos, footy, rip-offs.

As the kangaroos drained my finances, I couldn't help admiring the flytrap quality of the place. The lights, far brighter than most bars and clubs, obliterated any sense of time. I've never seen more efficient drink service, or faster bussing of tables. Pizza was $8, and available until 3 AM (and I'll begrudgingly admit, pretty good—two types of cheese, and well roasted vegetables).

Everything was perfectly set-up to keep people in their seats for as long as possible. While Victorian Law prohibits ATMs or cash-out in pokies, the Epping Plaza Hotel wasn't going to let a little thing like that get in the way of gambling. By simply walking to the other side of the bar serving the machine pit, you're able to get cash out, as you're no-longer technically in the gaming zone. It's the type of logic that would fool a kindergartener, or apparently a state government.

Having lost all the money I brought, it was time to leave. As I trudged through the car park, idly wondering if the night's losses could be claimed back on tax, the figure of $21 million a year once again crossed my mind. It's a lot to lose, especially when it's from those who can't afford it.