Addiction Machines

Earlier this month, I tweeted about the book I was reading, which sparked a conversation around a Minted Book Club of sorts. Maybe this is the right place for it, or maybe it isn’t, but I figured I’d get something down on paper and work out the details later.

I envision this as a low-pressure endeavor because I feel reading (at least in the circles I’m involved in) is often perceived as more of a chore than a means of escape or learning—just another thing on a long list of “to-dos.”

It’s fitting that the first book I chose to read this year is about machines, interfaces, and how every aspect—starting the moment you lay eyes on them—is designed to pull you in, keep you engaged until your pockets are drained, and somehow, through the work of science and psychology, leave you eager to come back for more.

Addiction by Design: Machine Gambling in Las Vegas by Natasha Dow Schüll was recommended not directly to me, but to in a tweet on X (formerly Twitter) that I happened to stumble upon.

The entire thread that recommended it drew parallels between the way we design applications for our phones and the very science and psychological tricks that go into creating machine games for Vegas.

Before I delve into some observations I’ve found interesting (and hopefully enlightening), I want to talk about the act of reading itself.

I used to read so much—much more than I have in the last couple of years, which I find quite unfortunate. Recently, I’ve been so consumed with work that I never felt the desire to sit down and lose myself in a book. Perhaps the desire was there, but each time I tried to read, I felt I should be working instead. My mind would run through an ongoing list of outstanding tasks until I couldn’t take it anymore, and I’d just put the book down.

This year, I’m trying to reframe that mindset. I’m trying to replace picking up my phone for a quick “reality escape” with picking up a book, even if it’s just for a few pages.

It’s been interesting to see how this is playing out. Rather than scrolling on my phone during my commute to the warehouse, I’ll pick up the book and read as many pages as I can. But something curious happens: I’ve noticed books provide far less dopamine than my phone, and as a result (and probably partly because of everyday stress), I start to nod off after just four or five pages.

I should clarify that I’m not in the “all screen time is bad screen time” camp. For anyone who’s active on social media, it’s important to stay somewhat connected to understand the cultural undercurrents you’re participating in. Unfortunately, that does require a certain amount of conscious consumption of what these apps have to offer.

Anyway, back to the book. I’m about 175 pages in (over halfway), and the parallels between our ever-present phones and the design of electronic gambling machines are frightening. On one hand, the machines are designed to take every last penny from you—but the methods for doing so have changed dramatically over the years.

Schüll explores the evolution of slot machines—from classic mechanical one-armed bandits to today’s sleek, computerized EGMs (Electronic Gambling Machines). She interviews designers who discuss factors like lighting, sound effects, and “ergonomic” chairs, all carefully chosen to encourage longer play sessions.

In the early days of manual slots, players spun the reels in hopes of hitting a big jackpot. Over time, as machines became computerized, manufacturers discovered that if players were kept “winning” small amounts—while their money was steadily draining—they would return and keep playing simply to play. They were no longer playing to win.

Schüll highlights the importance of “losses disguised as wins” (LDWs). The machine lights up and makes celebratory sounds even though the player may actually be losing money overall. Gamblers describe the illusion of winning—lights, bells, quick animations—as creating a sensation of being on a roll, even when their credits are quietly dwindling.

Consider those times when you reach for your phone, open an app, and start scrolling almost automatically—completely unaware you’re doing it—until something finally jars you out of that glazed-over state.

There’s a direct parallel here to what Schüll calls the “machine zone.” She interviews gamblers who describe entering a trance-like state where they lose track of time, money, and even the goal of hitting a jackpot. Their sole objective becomes staying “in the zone,” free from every day worries. Our phones, with infinite scrolling, push notifications, and instant feedback loops, can induce a similarly continuous draw that’s hard to break.

Will this information or the book itself radically change the way I use my phone? Probably not. However, if you’re interested in the intersection of technology and psychology, it’s definitely worth reading.

Are you reading anything right now? Share your recommendations—or any other thoughts below.