Pokémon Go is a walking game, a collecting game, and at times a social game. It was created by Niantic in collaboration with Nintendo and The Pokémon Company, and it is played on mobile platforms like iOS and Android. It is aimed audiences like Pokémon fans, casual mobile players, children, teens, and adults who enjoy collecting, walking, and social play. Compared to a typical slot machine, Pokémon Go may not seem like gambling. No one is sitting in a casino, pulling a lever, or obviously betting money. However, Pokémon Go uses many of the same psychological tools that make chance-based systems addictive: uncertainty, near-misses, and the hope that “the next one” will finally be the one you want.
During my critical play of Pokémon Go, the main thing I noticed was how much the game turns everyday activity into a loop of chance. You tap a Pokémon, but you do not know if it will have good stats, be rare, or run away before you catch it. You spin a PokéStop, but you do not fully control which items you receive. You hatch an egg, but you do not know what Pokémon will come out. The player action is simple, but the outcome is always uncertain. The tapping, spinning, walking, and hatching create the dynamic of repeated checking, which produces the aesthetic feeling of suspense. Each moment is low-stakes by itself, but together they encourage the player to keep coming back.
Pokémon Go is not identical to a slot machine, but it uses a similar emotional structure in terms of “near-misses.” In Addiction by Design, we learn about how near-misses can make losing feel like almost winning, which encourages players to continue. Pokémon Go creates this feeling when a Pokémon breaks out of the ball after two shakes or when a rare Pokémon runs away. I noticed that when I performed actions and failed, I felt a brief rush of excitement followed by the urge to try again. For example, when a Pokémon broke out of the Poké Ball after two shakes. Even though I technically failed, it felt like I had almost succeeded, which made me want to throw another ball instead of stopping. I thought to myself I just need to throw one more and I’ve got it this time. These moments further showed me that Pokémon Go does not rely on one big gamble but instead creates many small moments of suspense that keep the player engaged.
Pokémon Go also fits the live service model because it never really ends. There is always another Pokémon to catch, another shiny to hunt, another raid boss, another event, or another goal to achieve. Service games try to stretch playtime so that attention, time, and engagement can be monetized. Pokémon Go does this in a subtle way. The game encourages players to return daily for streaks, events, raids, and rotating rewards. Once a player is attached, the game puts slight pressure on them to spend money. Players can buy raid passes, Pokémon storage, bag storage, incubators, lucky eggs, and more. Some of these purchases do not directly guarantee a rare reward, but they buy more chances at one. For example, buying incubators does not guarantee that a rare Pokémon will hatch, but it lets the player hatch more eggs faster. This means the game is not only selling items; it is often selling repeated chances at randomized outcomes.
Compared to games of chance like poker or slots, Pokémon Go is softer and more socially acceptable. Poker directly involves money, and players often confuse luck with skill. Slots are even more direct in this aspect: the player risks money on outcomes completely outside their control. Pokémon Go is far from gambling, and many rewards can be earned without paying. This makes its chance systems harder to notice, but they are still there. Instead of asking players to gamble openly, it surrounds chance with exercise, nostalgia, and community. The player may think, “I’m just walking around catching Pokémon,” while still being pulled by the same pattern of uncertain rewards. What differentiates Pokémon Go from other chance-based games is that its randomness happens in real-world space. The player is not only clicking a button; they are moving through streets, parks, and public spaces.
Ethically, Pokémon Go can put people at risk for addiction because of its combination of constant phone-checking, random rewards, and real-world movement. Players are constantly checking their phones in the hope of finding a rare Pokémon, a better item, or a limited-time reward. This can take attention away from their surroundings. Because Pokémon Go is played in public spaces, staring at a phone can lead people to ignore traffic, trespass, wander into unsafe areas, or fail to notice what is happening around them. In this case, randomness becomes morally concerning because it does not just encourage compulsive play; it can encourage physically unsafe behavior.
I believe chance is morally permissible in games when it creates surprise, variety, and fun without manipulating the player. Random spawns can make Pokémon Go exciting, and egg hatching can add mystery. However, chance becomes morally impermissible when designers unintentionally distract players in unsafe real-world situations. A better version of Pokémon Go might make odds clearer and give stronger safety reminders during events. Randomness should serve the player’s enjoyment, not trap the player’s attention. Pokémon Go is not a slot machine, but it shows how slot-machine logic can appear inside a seemingly very different mobile game.
