BILL ORDINE New spins on casino gaming

The "Rocky" theme song, the schmaltzy but stirring anthem that was the musical backdrop for that plucky pug from Philly, has become synonymous with overcoming insurmountable odds.
So what better music to have playing when you're going toe-to-toe with a slot machine? Mr. T was a pushover compared to a hungry one-armed bandit.
Well, regulatory approvals permitting, slot players will get their shot at the title -- uh, jackpot -- with that same inspiring musical accompaniment, as well as some fancy video visuals, when the Rocky slot machines make their debut next year.
Rocky and scores of other new slot machines designed to capture the attention, and especially the wallets, of casino customers were showcased at gaming's annual conference and products show in Las Vegas in September. Rocky slots are expected to be available in Nevada early next year and could be in Atlantic City by mid-2003.
The Rocky slot machine made by Konami, a relative newcomer to the American gambling market, features not only the famous theme music but also video images of the movie's characters, including fight manager Mickey, girlfriend Adrian, opponent Apollo Creed and, of course, Rocky. When the player lines up the bonus symbols, the machine jumps to a bonus round, with Rocky and Apollo slugging it out in an animated boxing match. The longer the slugfest continues, the more money the player wins. Make it through the end of the fight and, "Yo," here comes Adrian rushing into the arms of Rocky.
As embarrassing as it is to admit, it's riveting.
Extra for skills
Although the Rocky slot machine is immensely entertaining, Mikohn Corp.'s series of knowledge- and skill-based games continues to represent a fundamental departure from traditional slot machines.
In almost all cases, regardless of how many fancy video gimmicks are layered onto a slot game, the fact remains that the player's fortune is dependent on pure chance. And even when there is interactivity between the player and a slot machine -- such as choosing a treasure chest to open -- making a choice that yields a higher prize is simply a matter of luck.
Some Mikohn games, including Trivial Pursuit, Clue, Ripley's Believe It or Not and Wink's (as in game-show MC Martindale) Survey of America, reward players for answering questions, although sometimes the questions are incredibly arcane.
For instance: Who turned down the lead role in "Columbo" that was played so successfully by Peter Falk?
In bonus rounds, players earn more money for correct responses.
Olaf Vancura, Mikohn's director of gaming products (who also happens to have a doctorate in physics from Johns Hopkins University), said there are a couple of reasons why skill- and knowledge-based slots make sense for both players and casinos.
"Players recognize that the game is different and they appreciate that we understand they want to do something besides just inserting their money and pushing a button," Vancura said.
The incentives
And there's one other thing. Because players can actually get better at the game the more they play it, they become what Vancura characterizes as "incentivized" to continue playing the game. Play Trivial Pursuit or Ripley's Believe or Not enough, and the next time you're asked what coin first bore the inscription "In God We Trust," you might know the answer -- and win more money. That becomes the incentive for repeat play.
Other slot-machine manufacturers, such as IGT and Bally's, continue to try to attract players with recognizable themes -- celebrities, movies and TV shows -- and spiffy graphics.
"Saturday Night Live" fans will howl at the animated antics of Dana Carvey's Church Lady, who greets players with a familiar "Well, isn't that special?"
Slots that are either already in casinos or are headed that way are pegged to TV shows ("M*A*S*H"), movies ("Austin Powers") and celebs (Sinatra, Bogart and James Dean).
And in case you're asked about who turned down Columbo? It was Bing Crosby.
The coin with the famous slogan? It's the no-longer-existent two-cent piece.
XBill Ordine is a columnist with The Philadelphia Inquirer.