Crypto Market: A Highly Efficient Addiction Machine

The crypto market, especially in the field of contract trading, is a world that operates around the clock. There are no breaks, leverage can reach up to a hundred times, and liquidation can happen without warning. There is no need for formal attire, betting, or signing documents; even emotions can be conveyed in the form of emoticons. It has become one of the most covert yet effective addiction devices in the digital world.

Cultural anthropologist Natasha Dole-Shul completed the book "The Bait of Luck" through an in-depth study of Las Vegas slot machine players. This work comprehensively showcases the panorama of the gambling industry, individual gamblers, and the fundamental concepts of modern society, while revealing a harsh reality.

The most dangerous thing is not the loss of money, but falling into the "machine maze"—a mental state where one knows they are sinking but cannot stop.

In this seemingly technology-driven and free-competitive field, we have witnessed an increasing number of gamblers falling into the abyss. They come from different backgrounds, with varying experiences and intelligence levels, but their fates are remarkably similar: before the massive gambling machine of contract trading, they repeatedly invest, only to be ultimately devoured.

Their story is a microcosm of how we are designed to be addicted.

From a Well-off Family to Heavy Debt

Recently, a user with the username "浙里重生" shared their experience on a video platform, sparking widespread discussion.

According to his own account, he was once the deputy director of a large state-owned washing plant under a state-owned enterprise in Handan, Hebei, a deputy-level official, with a monthly after-tax salary of nine thousand. His family was well-off, and life was stable. After getting married in 2018, he and his wife had a daughter, and the family atmosphere was harmonious.

He described his life at that time as "better than some, but lacking compared to others," and in the eyes of others, he was a winner in life.

However, everything has changed now. Contract trading has completely shattered his life.

Before getting involved in digital currencies, he briefly participated in postal currency card trading, without incurring losses, and even made a small profit of around twenty thousand. This experience did not make him cautious about speculative risks; instead, it planted a sense of luck in him. He became obsessed with the idea of making money without having to work.

In 2020, he officially entered the digital currency market. At first, it was just small spot trading, testing the waters with a few hundred dollars. But soon, the initial few "successes" completely overturned his perspective on money. In a short period, returns of 40%, 50%, and even "earning forty to fifty thousand in a day". The massive positive feedback shook his confidence in traditional work.

After losing all his principal for the first time, he didn't retreat but instead took a more aggressive path: borrowing money to trade contracts. He continuously tried 10x, 50x, and even 100x leverage; borrowing money, taking online loans, and using credit cards, each time it was to 'give it another shot', not even for the sake of getting rich, but to 'break even'.

At first, he tried to set stop losses, but every time it was actually triggered, he would always cancel it.

"Afraid of missing the rebound".

He described his situation as "a dull knife cutting flesh"; today he lost 20,000 after investing, and tomorrow he will invest another 20,000. At first, it was mainstream coins, then it became niche coins, and the more he invested, the more niche it became, the more desperate the bets.

Later on, he couldn't even borrow from online lending. He had to turn to friends and family, fabricating various excuses to borrow money. Each time he thought, "I'll go in and gamble one more time," it resulted in another liquidation. Four times of explosions, four times of patching the holes:

• He lost 220,000 for the first time, and his parents and friends helped him pay it off;
• Lost 300,000 for the second time, and relied on relatives to help out;
• The third loss of 650,000, he sold the house his sister prepared before marriage for 500,000, barely filling the hole;
• The fourth complete collapse, with total debt exceeding one million, unable to repay.

In the end, he resigned from his state-owned enterprise position, his wife submitted the divorce agreement, his father sent a resolute text saying "This family has no place for you," and his five-year-old daughter only knew "Daddy went to work in another place."

To evade debt collection, he rented a single room in the suburbs for 600 yuan a month, driving a ride-hailing car for 13-14 hours a day, with a daily revenue of 300 yuan. After deducting car rental and meal expenses, he was left with less than a hundred yuan. The smartwatch kept vibrating with collection calls and messages, some containing threats to send mass messages to his contacts.

He admits that he has "long been numb to the digital world," and the gains and losses in online lending and contracts seem like empty buttons. The greatest regret is not losing money, but rather "having destroyed a perfectly good home with his own hands."

The real problem lies in the fact that relying on driving and frugality, the million-dollar debt that accumulates interest is almost impossible to repay, and once the market rises again, the "impulse to recover losses" may reignite at any time.

This case perfectly illustrates the "machine maze"—a meticulously designed addictive space aimed at immersing people, losing control, and ultimately retreating backward. Traditional gambling has intervals, while the crypto market operates around the clock, and with high leverage providing instant feedback, the cycle of risk and reward is compressed to the extreme. This perfectly replicates the core addictive mechanism of slot machines: "fast operation, immediate feedback."

The concept of flow proposed by psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi is often used to describe positive immersive experiences. However, some scholars sharply point out that machine gambling offers a kind of "backward escape" pseudo-flow that does not bring any self-realization, but rather signifies losing oneself in repetitive behavior.

This former deputy director is undoubtedly a typical example of "retreating backwards". He is not creating value but is trying to combat the feeling of powerlessness in reality with a sense of virtual control within a consumptive system. From the initial goal of "becoming wealthy" to later recklessly trying to "recoup losses", his objectives have long been distorted. Selling his sister's wedding house and betraying everyone's trust, these actions indicate that he has sacrificed everything in reality to that virtual "illusion".

Traffic-based Emotion Liquidation Machine

If the previous case is the victim of contract casinos, then the person to be introduced next is the reveler in the casino. Unlike the slow collapse of the former, this trader's "dog life of gambling" resembles a grand theater centered around digital gains and losses and social performances. He does not sink quietly but rather uses traffic and emotions to bring himself repeatedly to the center of public attention.

This trader first became famous during a market crash in 2021. On that day, Bitcoin recorded a 33% intraday drop, and the entire market collapsed as if it were the end of the world. At just 19 years old, he made nearly 40 million RMB with a 1000 yuan short position, earning him the title of "genius trader."

This is a genuine "heroic birth" climax: low cost, high return, independent judgment, against the market.

But all of this is precisely the most dangerous beginning, the bait of luck has appeared.

A successful large bet is enough to create the illusion of continuous betting, that obsession of being able to do it again will cause people to constantly try to replicate that luck. He has never truly moved on from that day of "winning big," spending four years trying to recreate it while completely losing himself.

In subsequent trades, he constantly operated with high leverage, often making wrong directional bets, with profits and losses ebbing and flowing like the tide, ultimately accumulating debts exceeding 200 million yuan. He once publicly disclosed that he "had no source of income," relying on loans to maintain his trading, while claiming to have suffered emotional betrayal, a rift with his parents, and a mental breakdown, attempting self-harm several times.

At the same time, he maintains a very high level of activity on social media. He releases real trading screenshots to show the fluctuations in profit and loss; every time he turns a profit, he "gives out red envelopes" on social platforms to create attention-grabbing moments; he constantly engages in disputes with other traders and challenges them to fights to generate buzz; he discloses personal life disputes, emotional breakdowns, and mental health issues to build a "real but extreme" persona.

His social media is no longer an information dissemination platform, but rather a "second exchange" for emotional gambling. Liquidations, comebacks, wailing, throwing money, revenge; each wave of emotion fluctuates in sync with the market conditions, and every crash or rebound is part of the storyline. He is not just a participant; he is more like a self-directed playwright, stabilizing his position on the attention leaderboard in the circle through continuous intense emotional fluctuations.

This aligns perfectly with the description of "machine maze." Addictive players will closely link their emotions with betting; once they sink into the maze, time, space, and self-awareness will disappear, leaving only one thing: to continue betting.

The reason he can maintain traffic for a long time is that he has made himself an unceasing emotional betting machine. Market fluctuations are his plot structure, and the profit and loss numbers are his emotional drivers.

In the machine maze, individuals gradually become numb to winning and losing, with the goal shifting from "winning and leaving" to "sustaining existence." He no longer pursues a one-time profitable exit, but instead uses the extreme volatility of high-leverage trading to continuously provide topics and emotional anchors for his followers.

Ironically, amidst repeated failures and disasters, he still has followers, and many are even willing to transfer money to the accounts he publishes, voluntarily becoming his creditors. This is a perfect reflection of the socially addictive structure in the crypto market, where individuals are not only addicted to the system but also bound by group identity, creating a tolerance space for "failure is also worthy of appreciation."

What makes him special is not that he is crazy, but that he precisely interprets the "algorithmic value of a madman."

The "Market's Number One Gambler" That Went Viral On-Chain

If we set aside conspiracy theories and unproven speculation, this trader is more like the ultimate example of a technical gambler. His rise to fame stems from a staggering number: in just 70 days, he turned a contract account profit from 0 to 87 million dollars.

Everything happened on an emerging trading platform, with full-chain transparency. Every contract opening and closing, his profit records and position fluctuations were observed by the community in real-time. He also frequently posted content on social media, stating "I had never traded contracts before," and that he simply "improvised his transition" from being a niche coin trader, accidentally achieving success.

This epic roller coaster ride quickly attracted thousands of followers. In just a few weeks, his social media fans exceeded 380,000. His account status once became a barometer for the market and even influenced market sentiment.

At the end of May 2023, after experiencing consecutive profits, this trader's position saw a sharp drawdown.

In 70 days, $87 million in profit was almost completely wiped out in just 5 days.

He also admitted on social media: "I just want to recover my lost profits, and I don't want to look like an idiot who made 100 million and lost it all. I became greedy, and I didn't take the numbers on the screen seriously."

From this point on, his social media content style became radical and theatrical. He changed his profile picture to "McDonald's Wojak," self-deprecatingly stating that he has "fallen back to the bottom" and mocking himself for having to go work.

But he did not stop operating. At the beginning of June, he announced a trading halt, but just a few hours later, he posted a position chart of new long orders, claiming it was to "counter the corrupt market makers." He also named a specific platform, accusing it of "targeting individual positions."

The most controversial operation occurred on the brink of liquidation. This trader published an on-chain address to publicly raise funds in USDC, claiming that these funds would be used to maintain positions and reduce liquidation risk. He promised, "If the trade is successful, I will return it at a 1:1 ratio." Ultimately, he raised approximately 39,000 USDC through this address and did indeed use it to enhance margin and maintain position safety.

This move has been ridiculed by many as "high-end begging." As a result of this operation, his Bitcoin position did indeed turn from being on the verge of liquidation to profitability, with a temporary recovery of several hundred thousand dollars. However, good luck did not last long. With the market's severe fluctuations, his account ultimately faced significant losses again. On-chain data shows that his principal loss has approached 22 million dollars.

The controversy surrounding him did not end with the losses. Department