It wanted to hit. I know it would’ve hit. Only a few more coins. I know it would’ve paid off. Only a few more minutes, pulls, hours, it would have given me that jackpot. If only I hadn’t run out of money, had to catch that plane, had to go to sleep…It really wanted to hit.

Every slot player’s been there. You nurse a machine through ups and downs for hours. The play becomes a battle, the machine your adversary. It "teases" you mercilessly before finally sucking away your last credit. Or you have to leave it because you have to be somewhere else, or because you’re finding yourself nodding off on the stool. But there’s always that nagging feeling that it was minutes away from finally coughing up the big pay. That the next person who sits down is going to hit your jackpot.

More time, more money.

But what if you had all the money you needed? What if you had 24 solid hours on that one machine? Just you and it, jackpot or bust, in a duel where both man and machine were equally armed?

It sounded like a great idea when I pitched it to my editor. Of course, I’d be the guinea pig. I’d go up against a nickel progressive video keno machine at the Fiesta in North Las Vegas. Me against the machine, for 24 hours straight.

I chose the Fiesta for a few reasons. First, it’s one of the friendliest places in town. I’ve never had a negative experience with any employee or fellow player there. Everyone seems to be having a good time, and I knew I’d need all the good vibes I could get to pull this off. Second, North Las Vegas consistently rates the loosest slots in Vegas, and the Fiesta is known for their good payouts.

But why keno?

Well, it’s a funny thing about keno—you either love it or you hate it. There’s no in-between. Despite its terrible odds (among the worst in the casino), I am one of those sick people who loves playing it. Keno’s about the only game I could imagine myself playing for 24 hours straight.

"I don’t think you can physically do it," was my editor’s first response.

I love a challenge. "Sure I can," I assured him, full of confidence. "One all-nighter. I can do that. Besides, it’s keno!"

The folks at the Fiesta quickly got into the spirit of the marathon. They even agreed to bring food to me at the machine. I’d only get up for quick trips to the restroom, and they’d stand guard over my seat until I got back. And, if I actually hit the jackpot (which was up to about $43,700), we’d donate it to The Shade Tree Shelter for women and children, a terrific local charity here in Las Vegas.

The tricky part was the bankroll. In order to play a video keno progressive, you have to bet the maximum of four coins on a 10-spot. Keno’s a volatile game. On a 10-spot, you have to catch a minimum five numbers to get a return, but with four coins in, it pays 20 credits. Get six numbers, and the pay is a more generous 84 credits. Then come the bigger pays: seven numbers gets you 568; eight returns 4,000 (or $200 at the nickel level); nine pays 16,000 ($800); and 10 out of 10 wins the progressive. It takes roughly 10 seconds per game, assuming you’re not pausing to change your numbers. That works out to six games a minute, or 60 games per hour. If you hit a couple of sixes or sevens, you can play quite a while on a minimum amount of money. But hit a dry spell, and your credits plummet in no time. How much would I need to ensure I could keep going for 24 hours?

After consulting with Casino Player’s Slot Club Editor Jeffrey Compton, we figured $500 in cash would get me through. And I had the means to get more if I needed it.

"You know I can’t possibly approve of this," Jeffrey told me. "Keno’s a horrible game."

"I know," I told him. "I know. But it could happen. I could hit it."

"Yes," he admitted. "You could. The odds of hitting 10 out of 10 are one in 8,911,711. If you sit there for 1,180 days straight, yes, you could very well hit it."

I hate math experts. What could I say to that?

"Oh yeah? Well, I have on my lucky elephant necklace. I bet you didn’t factor that into the equation."

Why should I let a little thing like mathematic probability dampen my spirit? I’m hopelessly optimistic in these situations. In my mind, I’ve got a 50-50 shot: either I’m going to hit it, or I’m not. And 50-50, I can live with.

The plans were all set. The bank of keno progressives at the Fiesta is located off the main casino floor, directly across from the registration desk. This turned out to be a good thing. Had I been subjected to the sounds of "Wheel...Of...Fortune!" and "Jackpot Party!" all night long, I would have lost it.

I was to start at 6 PM on Wednesday, and would play until 6 PM Thursday. Unless, of course, I hit the progressive.

When I arrived at the Fiesta, I was met by the slot supervisor and the slot host on duty. Everyone, I was told, had been briefed on what I was doing. They all promised to take care of me, check up on me, and throw things at me if I started to doze off.

As it turned out, the local news picked up on the story. Our local NBC affiliate showed up just minutes before six. I explained what I was doing and why I was doing it. I could see the cameraman thought I was nuts, but the fact that the magazine was going to donate the jackpot if I hit made for a good human-interest story.

I chose the second machine in the bank. IGT’s Game King Keno Multi-Game Machine 102-06 #11002, or "Herbie," as I named him several hours into the night. I inserted my first twenty, and at the stroke of six, I began.

Many people like to claim there are strategies to keno. Play the corners. Play the columns. Pick your numbers in the shape of a "H" or a triangle or an "S." Play the middle or the lines that split the top from the bottom. Rotate your numbers clockwise every 10 games. Flip them from the top right to the bottom left. Play only the outside numbers. Play the same numbers all the time. And on an on.

The fact is, there is no winning strategy to video keno, any more than there is a winning strategy to a reel or video slot machine. The best you can do is try to slow down your play. In the case of keno, this means changing your numbers frequently.

Still, keno players are a superstitious lot. They tend to believe there must be a pattern to the 20 numbers that are "called" each game. Even knowing the facts, I find myself trying desperately trying to identify some semblance of order in the chaotic mess of numbers. They do seem to come out in clumps. Groups of numbers cluster in one segment of the board. You do see the same shapes—"L," "S," "T," "H"—come up again and again. Certain numbers seem to hit with more frequency. I can’t say for sure, but I think we tend to just notice these so-called patterns and forget about the other numbers scattered across the board. It gives us the impression that a strategy can be derived from the observation, when, in truth, you’re just as likely to hit if you close your eyes and blindly pick 10 spots on the screen. As much as I hate to admit it, Keno is no different than any other slot. It all comes down to luck.

Continued...