Poker Keep Getting Bad Hands
Bad Hands in Poker Dice. Part of the series: How to Play Poker Dice. When should a poker dice player keep rolling? Learn about bad hands in poker dice in thi. Keep calm & grind on: This one is fairly obvious. Suck it up, accept that running bad is part of the game, and keep grinding. Depending on your personality type, this could be awesome or awful advice.
The poker odds calculators on CardPlayer.com let you run any scenario that you see at the poker table, see your odds and outs, and cover the math of winning and losing poker hands. Texas Hold'em Omaha.
Firstly I will clarify what most people mean when they say that online poker is rigged or fixed. This idea is suggested because a lot of people believe that the cards are dealt in set patterns so that certain hands will be specifically chosen by the site, resulting in numerous bad beats for players.
Therefore due to this frequency of bad beats, a player may claim that the site is rigged and that no hands and cards are dealt out at random.
So anyway, is online poker is rigged?
No.
Every site uses a RNG (Random Number Generator) to randomly choose cards from a 52 card deck on every singly hand. Rigged online poker is just another one of the many online poker myths.
Theories for online poker being rigged.
I could end the article at that, but now you will be asking the question of why I am so sure that it isn’t rigged, so I will continue and hopefully explain why it is not rigged and dispel some common rumors about Internet poker at the same time.
Many people have different suggestions as to why Internet poker is rigged, so I will address the most popular theories in the next few paragraphs and give the reasoning to why they are incorrect.
- There are too many bad beats.
- Cards are fixed to keep people playing.
- Cards are fixed to build bigger pots.
1) Too many bad beats.
Theory: The number of bad beats online is substantially greater when compared to the number of bad beats in live play. Therefore, if online poker isn’t rigged, then why are there so many bad beats?
Explanation: I will admit that it is true that you will see far more bad beats online than you will during live play, but this is not because it is rigged. There are two reasons why you see such a high frequency of beats online:
- The action at an online poker table runs much faster than the action at a live table. More hands = more beats.
- You are not sitting face to face with any of your opponents whilst playing online.
To elaborate on point #2, players are happier to call down large bets and raises on unlikely draws, as they do not have to worry about being berated by other players at the table (except for a few words in a chat box). If a player is playing at a live table, they are more likely to avoid calling with terrible odds for a draw because they would not like to be criticized because of their bad play.
Because online players are calling with worse hands and worse odds, you are likely to suffer more bad beats.
2) Cards are fixed to keep people playing.
Theory: The online rooms fix the cards so that the bad players will get luckier to stop them from losing too much money and leaving the room. The rooms want to keep as many players as possible so that they generate more rake, so by fixing the cards to make it ‘fairer’ for the bad players, they will able to make more money for themselves.
Explanation: The chances of a room fixing cards to help the bad players save money are almost non-existent. Only when you start to think about the side effects of such a system can you appreciate the absurdity of such a theory.
If a room is helping a bad player from losing money, at the same time the room will be taking this money from the good players to compensate. Therefore there would be no such thing as the online pros that make a living from playing online poker, because they will find it too difficult to win money due to a ‘fair’ system.
In addition, the site would have to scrap the use of its RNG and design a system that is able to detect a losing player and be able to deliver ‘good hands’ to those players. Not only would this be incredibly difficult for the sites to create, but it would also be illegal. If a site were found to be utilizing such a system to help make them more money, they would incur a staggering amount of fines and be heavily prosecuted. The poker rooms know this and so it would be dangerously unwise for them to even consider using such a system.
3) Cards are fixed to build bigger pots.
Theory: Poker rooms have pre-set ‘action hands’ that give two or more players very strong hands. This helps to create larger pots, which in turn generates more rake for the room.
Explanation: As already mentioned above, the poker rooms would have to knowingly break the law to achieve this system. With so many people involved working with the rooms, there is a high chance that information of such a system would slip out into the public eye and scar the integrity of the room.
Furthermore, the room would be forced to close and they would face large fines and legal action due to their exploits. If a room were using a system like that, you would know about it by now. As far as the poker rooms are concerned the juice just wouldn’t be worth the squeeze, and they would rather invest their time in making the room more attractive to new and old players.
Poker Keep Getting Bad Hands Hurting
Is online poker rigged overview.
These are the most popular arguments for why online poker may be rigged. As you can see the explanations make it incredibly unlikely that the poker rooms will ever rig poker for the online player. If you browse through a poker room’s homepage you should be able to find information on how each hand is randomly generated. If this is not available on the website then you should be able to request information about it by emailing the poker room.
If you really wish, you can test the RNG of the rooms by tracking the results of your play using tracking software and comparing the statistics you obtain against the mathematical likelihood of each situation over a large number of hands. However, you must obtain a large amount of data if you intend on doing this to make sure the results are fair and accurate. If you are still unsure about the room you are playing at, simply move onto a different room.
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Maria Konnikova is a New York Times bestselling author and contributor to The New Yorker with a doctorate in psychology. She decided to learn how to play poker to better understand the role of luck in our lives, examining the game through the lens of psychology and human behavior. This excerpt is adapted from her new book, “The Biggest Bluff: How I Learned to Pay Attention, Master Myself, and Win,” which is available June 23.
For many years, my life centered around studying the biases of human decision-making: I was a graduate student in psychology at Columbia, working with that marshmallow-tinted legend, Walter Mischel, to document the foibles of the human mind as people found themselves in situations where risk abounded and uncertainty ran high. Dissertation defended, I thought to myself, that’s that. I’ve got those sorted out. And in the years that followed, I would pride myself on knowing so much about the tools of self-control that would help me distinguish myself from my poor experimental subjects. Placed in a stochastic environment, faced with stress and pressure, I knew how I’d go wrong — and I knew precisely what to do when that happened.
Poker Keep Getting Bad Hands Numb
Fast-forward to 2016. I have embarked on my latest book project, which has taken me into foreign territory: the world of No Limit Texas Hold ’em. And here I am, at my first-ever tournament. It’s a charity event. I’ve been practicing for weeks, playing online, running through hands, learning the contours of basic tournament poker strategy.
I get off to a rocky start, almost folding pocket aces, the absolute best hand you can be dealt, because I’m so nervous about messing up and disappointing my coach, Erik Seidel — a feared crusher considered one of the best poker players in the world. He’s the one who finagled this invitation for me in the first place, and I feel certain that I’m going to let him down. But somehow, I’ve managed to survive out of the starting gate, and a few hours in, I’m surprised to find myself starting to experience a new kind of feeling. This isn’t that hard. This is fun. I’m not half-bad.
This moment, this I’m not half-bad making its fleeting way through my brain, is the first time I notice a funny thing start to happen. It’s as if I’ve been cleaved in two. The psychologist part of my brain looks dispassionately on, noting everything the poker part of me is doing wrong. And the poker player doesn’t seem to be able to listen. Here, for instance, the psychologist is screaming a single word: overconfidence. I know that the term “novice” doesn’t even begin to describe me and that my current success is due mostly to luck. But then there’s the other part of me, the part that is most certainly thinking that maybe, just maybe, I have a knack for this. Maybe I’m born to play poker and conquer the world.
The biases I know all about in theory, it turns out, are much tougher to fight in practice. Before, I was working so hard on grasping the fundamentals of basic strategy that I didn’t have the chance to notice. Now that I have some of the more basic concepts down, the shortcomings of my reasoning hit me in the face. After an incredibly lucky straight draw on a hand I had no business playing — the dealer helpfully tells me as much with a “You’ve got to be kidding me” as I turn over my hand and win the pot — I find myself thinking maybe there’s something to the hot hand, the notion that a player is “hot,” or on a roll. Originally, it was taken from professional basketball, from the popular perception that a player with a hot hand, who’d made a few shots, would continue to play better and make more baskets. But does it actually exist — and does believing it exists, even if it doesn’t, somehow make it more real? In basketball, the psychologists Thomas Gilovich, Amos Tversky, and Robert Vallone argued it was a fallacy of reasoning — when they looked at the Boston Celtics and the Philadelphia 76ers, they found no evidence that the hot hand was anything but illusion. But in other contexts, mightn’t it play out differently? I’ve had the conventional thinking drilled into me, yet now I think I’m on a roll. I should bet big. Definitely bet big.
That idea suffers a debilitating blow after a loss with a pair of jacks — a hand that’s actually halfway decent. After a flop that has an ace and a queen on it — both cards that could potentially make any of my multiple opponents a pair higher than mine — I refuse to back down. I’ve had bad cards for the last half an hour. I deserve to win here! I lose over half my chips by refusing to fold — hello, sunk cost fallacy! We’ll be seeing you again, many times. And then, instead of reevaluating, I start to chase the loss: Doesn’t this mean I’m due for a break? I can’t possibly keep losing. It simply isn’t fair. Gambler’s fallacy — the faulty idea that probability has a memory. If you are on a bad streak, you are “due” for a win. And so I continue to bet when I should sit a few hands out.
It’s fascinating how that works, isn’t it? Runs make the human mind uncomfortable. In our heads, probabilities should be normally distributed — that is, play out as described. If a coin is tossed ten times, about five of those should be heads. Of course, that’s not how probability actually works — and even though a hundred heads in a row should rightly make us wonder if we’re playing with a fair coin or stuck in a Stoppardian alternate reality, a run of ten or twenty may well happen. Our discomfort stems from the law of small numbers: We think small samples should mirror large ones, but they don’t, really. The funny thing isn’t our discomfort. That’s understandable. It’s the different flavors that discomfort takes when the runs are in our favor versus not. The hot hand and the gambler’s fallacy are actually opposite sides of the exact same coin: positive recency and negative recency. We overreact to chance events, but the exact nature of the event affects our perception in a way it rightly shouldn’t.
We have a mental image of the silly gamblers who think they’re due to hit the magic score, and it’s comforting to think that won’t be us, that we’ll recognize runs for what they are: statistical probabilities. But when it starts happening in reality, we get a bit jittery. “All these squalls to which we have been subjected are signs the weather will soon improve and things will go well for us,” Don Quixote tells his squire, Sancho Panza, in Miguel de Cervantes’s 1605 novel, “because it is not possible for the bad or the good to endure forever, from which it follows that since the bad has lasted so long a time, the good is close at hand.” We humans have wanted chance to be equitable for quite some time. Indeed, when we play a game in which chance doesn’t look like our intuitive view of it, we balk.
Frank Lantz has spent over twenty years designing games. When we meet at his office at NYU, where he currently runs the Game Center, he lets me in on an idiosyncrasy of game design. “In video games where there are random events — things like dice rolls — they often skew the randomness so that it corresponds more closely to people’s incorrect intuition,” he says. “If you flip heads twice in a row, you’re less likely to flip heads the third time. We know this isn’t actually true, but it feels like it should be true, because we have this weird intuition about large numbers and how randomness works.” The resulting games actually accommodate that wrongness so that people don’t feel like the setup is “rigged” or “unfair.” “So they actually make it so that you’re less likely to flip heads the third time,” he says. “They jigger the probabilities.”
For a long time, Lantz was a serious poker player. And one of the reasons he loves the game is that the probabilities are what they are: they don’t accommodate. Instead, they force you to confront the wrongness of your intuitions if you are to succeed. “Part of what I get out of a game is being confronted with reality in a way that is not accommodating to my incorrect preconceptions,” he says. The best games are the ones that challenge our misperceptions, rather than pandering to them in order to hook players.
Poker pushes you out of your illusions, beyond your incorrect comfort zone — if, that is, you want to win. “Poker wasn’t designed by a game designer in the modern sense,” Lantz points out. “And it’s actually bad game design according to modern-day conceptions of how video games are designed. But I think it’s better game design because it doesn’t pander.” If you want to be a good player, you must acknowledge that you’re not “due” — for good cards, good karma, good health, money, love, or whatever else it is. Probability has amnesia: Each future outcome is completely independent of the past. But we persist in thinking that its memory is not only there but personal to us. We’ll be rewarded, eventually, if we’re only patient. It’s only fair.
But here’s the all-too-human element: We’re just fine with runs when they are in our favor. Hence the hot hand. When we’re winning, we don’t think we’re due for a change in the least. If the run is on our side, we’re thrilled to let it continue indefinitely. We think the bad streaks are overdue to end yesterday, but no one wants the good to end.
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Why do smart people persist in these sorts of patterns? As with so many biases, it turns out that there may be a positive element to these illusions — an element that’s closely tied to the very thing I’m most interested in, our conceptions about luck. There’s an idea in psychology, first introduced by Julian Rotter in 1966, called the locus of control. When something happens in the external environment, is it due to our own actions (skill) or some outside factor (chance)? People who have an internal locus of control tend to think that they affect outcomes, often more than they actually do, whereas people who have an external locus of control think that what they do doesn’t matter too much; events will be what they will be. Typically, an internal locus will lead to greater success: People who think they control events are mentally healthier and tend to take more control over their fate, so to speak. Meanwhile, people with an external locus are more prone to depression and, when it comes to work, a more lackadaisical attitude.
Sometimes, though, as in the case of probabilities, an external locus is the correct response: Nothing you do matters to the deck. The cards will fall how they may. But if we’re used to our internal locus, which has served us well to get us to the table to begin with, we may mistakenly think that our actions will influence the outcomes, and that probability does care about us, personally. That we’re due to be in a certain part of the distribution, because our aces have already been cracked twice today. They can’t possibly fall yet again. We’ll forget what historian Edward Gibbon warned about as far back as 1794, that “the laws of probability, so true in general, [are] so fallacious in particular” — a lesson history teaches particularly well. And while probabilities do even out in the long term, in the short term, who the hell knows. Anything is possible. I may even final-table this charity thing.
One thing is for sure: Unless I cure my distaste for bad runs and the sense of exuberance that envelops me during the good ones, I am going to lose a lot of money. And maybe if I lose it for long enough, I’ll eventually stop thinking that the cards owe me anything at all — whether that’s continued success or an end to a streak of bad runouts. Or that’s the hope. Otherwise I’ll be one broke poker player.
From the book “THE BIGGEST BLUFF” by Maria Konnikova, to be published on June 23, 2020, by Penguin Press, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC. Copyright © 2020 by Maria Konnikova.