Before You Download That Betting App, Read This.

Max spent decades feeding poker machines and lost more than just money. Now, he wants you to understand exactly what those machines were built to do, how those same tricks have made their way into the phone you're holding, and why the Federal Government's latest gambling industry ‘reforms’ barely scratch the surface.

He wants you to picture a slot machine with stunning artwork depicting a beautiful African landscape. Wildlife roams across the screen; lions, tigers. The warm colours and gentle music playing in the background are soothing, you feel peaceful. That's the point.

He remembers that machine. He also remembers the years he spent feeding money into it and other machines just like it; he lost his pension, drained his bank account, stole from his own parents, and wondered what was wrong with him.

That was 12 years ago, and he is now free from gambling. He has rebuilt his relationships, found purpose, and become an advocate for the thousands of Australians still caught in the trap he escaped. This is his story - and it is one the gambling industry does not want you to hear.

It Starts Small. It Always Does.

Max was fifteen when he first experienced gambling. It was a family Melbourne Cup sweepstake –the kind where everyone picks a horse and the winner gets a chocolate bar. His parents weren't gamblers. There were no flashing lights or big promises being made: it was just a bit of fun. A few years later, things changed.

As a young man,sport - especially soccer – had been his escape. He loved it; the movement, the competition, the electric rush when the ball hit the back of the net.

"The thrill of scoring a goal gives you an adrenaline rush, a dopamine hit."

But when he stopped playing soccer, that feeling disappeared, and something shifted. He began to struggle with depression and loneliness, until he found that same dopamine hit with a win on the pokies.

“Gambling feels like it hijacks the same reward system as physical exercise or winning a real soccer match. I played the pokies for the first time when I was eighteen. I was instantly drawn to the machine. I wanted to keep playing but the friends I was with wanted to leave. I found playing the machines to be something I wanted to do more and more…”

For those few hours at the screen, he felt alive. The depression eased and the loneliness receded, but when his money ran out, everything came crashing back - worse than before.

His story is not about weakness. It is a story about a human brain responding exactly as it was designed to - and an industry that knew exactly how to exploit that response.

The Machines Are Built to Keep You There

A friend told Max the gambling industry wasn't responsible for what was happening to him - he was – and it seemed to make sense. For a long time, he did blame himself, but the more he researched, the more he listened to others’ stories, the more he realised he was not at fault – that story wasn’t true.

What is true is that a poker machine is not a ‘neutral’ piece of equipment. It is a sophisticated piece of technology that has been developed very carefully, at great expense, and specifically designed by skilled engineers and psychologists to keep you sitting in front of it for as long as possible.

"The artistry was captivating, But it's designed to keep you totally engaged, even when you're losing money."

He explained how casinos design an environment to make their clients stay – and keep playing. There are no clocks, no windows letting in natural light - time seems suspended. Some places pump pleasant fragrances through the air. Small wins are accompanied by gentle music. The screens are designed to be hypnotically beautiful to attract your attention - and hold it.

And what else did he find? When customers started losing heavily, the industry didn't intervene to slow the punters down – it ramped things up. Bonus bets. Free bets. Sign-up offers. All dangled irresistibly in front of people already deep in trouble. No care, no concern - only cold calculation.

"They don’t step in when someone is clearly being harmed by gambling. Instead, they encourage them to keep betting and offer incentives after heavy losses. It’s unethical."

These inducements are among the most well-documented tools of gambling harm, disproportionately targeting people who are already in trouble, people like Max who estimates he lost up to $100,000 over his lifetime, mostly while on the pension.

A Parliamentary Committee investigated exactly this. Its 2023 report, You Win Some, You Lose More, recommended banning these inducements outright. The Government's April 2026 Reform Package does not do that. It places some limits on how inducements can be advertised, but the industry can still offer them. And it will still use them.

Who’s Watching the Industry? Almost Nobody.

It would be reasonable to assume that an industry taking billions of dollars from Australians every year would be closely watched. It isn’t.

After watching a Four Corners investigation called Losing Streak, Max compared how Australia oversees the gambling industry to other countries’ efforts.

In Denmark, their dedicated gambling regulator operates with a budget of around thirteen million euros and one hundred and fifty full-time staff, according to its director, Anders Dorph. The United Kingdom's gambling regulator has over three hundred people working to hold gambling companies accountable, as reported by consumer advocate Lauren Levin.

By comparison, Australia's main gambling regulator, based in the Northern Territory, has part-time workers who meet once a month. It has never once revoked a wagering licence. When a fine is levied on a gambling company, the financial penalty amounts to a tiny fraction of what the company made through their punishable conduct. That gambling operators have concentrated their licences in the NT - a jurisdiction that has built its economy around the industry it is supposed to police – attests to a blatant conflict of interest. The NT Government profits handsomely from keeping operators licensed. However, the collateral damage lands elsewhere – on people just like Max.

"We desperately need a national regulator with, with a substantial number of employees - a serious government body.”

And the Parliamentary Committee agrees. It called for a national online gambling regulator with real enforcement powers, but the Government's April 2026 Reform Package contains no mention of a national regulator whatsoever. Not a proposal. Not an ‘in principle’ agreement. Not a timeline. Nothing.

Getting Help Shouldn't Cost a Fortune

Max was one of the lucky ones. A counsellor - a man who himself had been free from gambling for two decades - took the time to sit with Max for over three months. He didn't lecture him. He understood him. He had the same lived experience.

"Some of his wise words really struck home. He gave me confidence that meeting with other people in recovery would help me give up gambling completely."

Not everyone gets that help. When he had looked into rehabilitation options, he found that most residential programs cost tens of thousands of dollars for a three-or-four-week course. For someone like him, on the pension - already losing money he couldn't afford – there were extremely limited options available.

"There's a huge gap here, especially for those who rely on government assistance…and I think it should be addressed through some kind of funded service.”

The reform package does not address this gap. For the people most harmed by gambling - those on low incomes, on the pension, without savings - the cost of getting help remains completely out of reach.

And the cost of doing nothing is not just financial. In his 12-Step Fellowship, he has known at least three members who took their own lives because of gambling addiction. They are real people - not just statistics.

If You're Young, This Is About You

Max’s first experience of gambling was a Cup Sweep at age fifteen. Today's 15-year-olds have an entire range of betting apps on their phones, literally at their fingertips. They don't need to walk into a casino, or a TAB. The gambling ads appear between videos on social media. The odds are calculated by experts whose entire job is to make sure the house always wins. And it does. Max wants young people to be aware of the potential problems inherent in downloading a sports betting app.

"Be aware of the danger you're getting yourself into. The providers are very wealthy, and they're very cunning. They make it so easy to place a bet. It is predatory."

The Government's reforms cap gambling ads at three per hour on broadcast TV between 6am and 8:30pm. But AFL, NRL and Big Bash Cricket matches regularly run until 10:30pm. A 14-year-old watching the second half of a footy game, the post-match coverage - and everything in between - is not protected. The 8:30pm cut-off shifts the problem rather than solving it. Research by the Australian Communications and Media Authority found that when a partial advertising ban came in, gambling ads after the designated limited broadcast timeslot increased by 131 per cent.

For online platforms, gambling ads are banned unless a user is over eighteen, logged into an authenticated account, and has not opted out of marketing. As advocate Reverend Tim Costello has pointed out, this gets the logic completely backwards - it puts the burden on parents to actively protect their children across every app and platform, repeatedly, rather than placing that burden on the industry seeking to advertise. The Parliamentary Committee recommended a ban on allbroadcast gambling advertising until 10pm. The government declined to adopt it.

Max advocates for a complete ban on gambling advertising in the same way cigarette advertising was eventually banned from television; the TV stations found other advertisers. Life went on. But people were safer.

Of course, the gambling industry will protest loudly, saying a ban goes too far. But then, it would say that when it is making millions with the status quo.

What Recovery Actually Looks Like

Max has now regained one thing that gambling took from him for years - his parents' trust. At the height of his addiction, he stole from them to fund his gambling. He says it plainly, without softening the truth. They are in their eighties now, and they have given him a key to their home.

"I felt such a boost to my confidence that they would trust me that much."

Now, he is really present in his marriage, in a way he hadn’t been for the years he was gambling. He thinks clearly, forms his own views, and is the person his family needs him to be. Recently, at a conference, he ran into a man he had once helped through recovery. That man was eighteen months gambling-free and working as a counsellor, helping young people understand addiction. One person's story inspired another to get better, and that person is now helping countless others do the same. Max doesn’t take credit for any of it; he just showed up and told the truth. Sometimes, that is enough.

"If you can abstain from all forms of gambling, life does get a lot better. People come back into your life, and there are more opportunities and choices available. I know from my own experience, this is the case.”

That poker machine with the lions and tigers — or the betting app on a phone — is still out there. It sits in pubs and casinos, and in the palms of people’s hands, playing gentle music, flashing polished animations, and waiting to draw in the next person.

And he wants the government to know that half-measures are simply not good enough. Not for the people still sitting at those machines. Not for the kids watching the second half of the footy. Not for the families who can't afford to get help.

Walking away is possible. Max proved it can be done. But the gambling industry, and the government that makes the laws that control it, need to make that walk a whole lot easier.

If you or someone you know is struggling with gambling harm, contact the National Gambling Helpline on 1800 858 858 (Australia). It's free, confidential, and available 24 hours a day.

Written by Maddy with thanks to Max