Roulette Heist Review: Poker, Bullets, and Broken Trust

TL;DR

Poker night, but with guns, trust issues, and the creeping realization you invited the wrong people.

Roulette Heist is a stylish, deranged party crime game that feels like gambling with loaded dice and loaded friends.

It’s messy. It’s incomplete. It’s also genuinely funny in a way most games are too scared to be.

A brilliant bad idea executed just well enough to make you forgive it.

Feeling tense already? Good. That means it’s working.

If Roulette Heist makes you suspicious of everyone at the table, you’re in the correct psychological zone.

👉 Professional poker chip set with real weight (Amazon) - Because plastic chips are for children and corporate team-building exercises.

👉 Metal roulette wheel for home use (Amazon) - Useless? Yes. Atmospheric? Immensely. Your table deserves drama.

Warm up your trust issues with The Best Crime Games - Consider this preventative education.

Freedom of Crime

Roulette Heist understands one crucial thing most games don’t: crime is more fun when nobody pretends it’s noble.

You are not saving anyone. You are not restoring balance. You are sitting at a table with masked lunatics, wondering if bluffing is worth the sound a revolver makes when it hates you.

It feels refreshing in a landscape full of heroic nonsense. No chosen ones. No destiny. Just vibes, bullets, and poor impulse control.

That said, freedom comes with a leash. No single-player. No solo scheming. If your friends are busy, asleep, or emotionally stable, you are not committing crimes tonight. Your criminal empire lives and dies by Discord availability.

Criminal Fantasy Fulfillment

Poker Roulette is the headline act and yes, it’s as unhinged as it sounds.

You play poker. You lose. You pick up a gun. You test fate. It is equal parts strategy, panic, and that quiet inner voice whispering “why did I fold that hand.”

Every decision feels personal. Every mistake feels deserved.

Loot Division leans harder into chaos. Handcuffs, poison, cigars, adrenaline shots. It’s like someone raided a mob movie prop closet and said “throw it all in, we’ll balance it later.” And honestly? That reckless confidence works.

The fantasy holds up right until the game reminds you that one of its advertised modes, Death 21, is still missing. It’s the gaming equivalent of being promised dessert and handed the menu again.

Mission Design

Rounds are short, sharp, and cruel. There is no warm-up. No mercy. Just a constant sense that you are one bad call away from becoming a cautionary tale.

There’s also absolutely no story. No arc. No clever twists. Just players circling each other like sharks with gambling problems.

Think Ocean’s Eleven, but without the plan, the charm, or George Clooney. Just the part where everyone argues and someone ruins everything.

Money & Progression

Here’s the funny part.

The money you win does not really matter. It exists mostly to tell you who did better, not to actually do anything useful. So if you were hoping to build a criminal empire, buy upgrades, or feel financially validated, no.

What you do get is item variety and a parade of achievements that read like something scribbled by a bored sociopath. Survive shots. Cause chaos. Make everyone uncomfortable. It’s dumb, it’s grim, and it works.

World & Sandbox

Visually, the game knows what it wants to be. Neon-soaked casino hellscape. Masks. Chips. Guns. It looks like a nightclub that failed its health inspection and doubled down.

But this is not a sandbox. It’s a stage. You do not explore. You perform. If you crave escapes, chases, or emergent chaos beyond the table, you are in the wrong establishment.

Pause. Breathe. Reconsider your life choices. Then continue.

At this point you have either outplayed everyone or learned something deeply unpleasant about yourself.

👉 Realistic fake revolver prop (Amazon) - Harmless. Plastic. Still makes guests uncomfortable. Perfect.

👉 Noise-isolating gaming headset (Amazon) - So you can hear the exact moment someone panics and lies badly.

Crew & NPCs

There are no NPCs. No AI safety nets. No bots to blame.

Every betrayal is personal. Every stupid decision is human-made. Your crew is either brilliant, malicious, or drunk. Sometimes all three.

Some players love that purity. Others would quite like the option to fill a lobby without begging three people who “might join later.”

Police & Law Response

There is none.

No cops. No alarms. No consequences beyond physics and probability. The law here is simple: numbers, bullets, and whether the chamber hates you today.

It’s pure criminal fantasy stripped of realism, which CRIMENET fully endorses.

Style & Atmosphere

The atmosphere is doing a lot of heavy lifting, and it mostly succeeds. Every click of an empty chamber is tense. Every live round lands like a punchline nobody wanted.

Unfortunately, technical rough edges do show up. Window issues. Fullscreen quirks. Small annoyances that pull you out of the fantasy just long enough to swear at your monitor.

Nothing catastrophic. Just enough to remind you this is an indie crime, not a polished syndicate operation.

Replayability

With friends, it’s dangerously replayable. The kind of game that turns “one more round” into “why is it 3 a.m.”

Without friends, it dies instantly. No matchmaking magic. No AI to prop it up. This is a social crime or nothing at all.

Multiplayer (Relevant AF)

This game lives and dies by human interaction. Bluffing. Lying. Panic. Awkward silence after someone makes a very bad choice.

When it clicks, it’s hilarious. When it doesn’t, it’s a quiet digital room full of regret.

People love the tension and deduction. They also want more content, more polish, and fewer missing features. Both sides are right.

You survived the review. Now commit fully.

If Roulette Heist made you laugh, swear, and distrust people you liked five minutes ago, welcome home.

👉 Black balaclava ski mask (Amazon) - For immersion. Or groceries. We do not judge.

👉 Casino-style poker table cover (Amazon) - Turns any sad dining table into a crime scene. Wipes clean. Important.

FAQ

Is Roulette Heist worth it in 2025? Yes, if your idea of fun includes social tension and emotional damage.

Does it have single-player? No. Bring friends or bring a mirror.

Is Roulette Heist multiplayer only? Absolutely. Crime is a group activity here.

Are there cops or consequences? Only math and bad luck.

Does the loot matter? Emotionally, yes. Mechanically, not really.

Should crime writers play this? Yes. It’s research. Drink optional, but recommended.