From Chicken Novice to Golden Arena Master: A Cyberpunk Chicken Fighter’s Memoir

I didn’t set out to win big—I set out to feel alive.

When I first walked into the chicken arena, I thought it was just another casino hustle. But then I noticed: every cluck wasn’t random. It was a drumbeat—Samba meets Silicon Valley. My Northwestern grad training kicked in: this wasn’t about odds; it was about flow.

I stopped chasing jackpots. Started tracking rhythm instead.

My mother raised me Catholic—but I became secular by design. In Chicago’s winter nights, I’d sit with my cat while watching the screen glow like neon purple (#FF27A8). The bets? Small. The stakes? High.

The real magic wasn’t in doubling your wager—it was in knowing when to quit.

I designed three viral games around this truth: one where players don’t chase wins—they chase presence. We call it ‘Golden Arena’: a ritual space where every click feels like a drumroll under city lights.

You don’t need more credits. You need clarity.

Last month, at the Chicago International Film Festival, I screened a short doc titled ‘Chicken & Samba: The Neon Ritual’. No actors. No cartoon gods. Just sweat on concrete, pulse under violet light—and one player who finally walked away smiling.

Your next bet isn’t a gamble. It’s a dance.