Honshu (2)-[14]: Somehow the topic turned to pachinko

Route 2 is the main road connecting the Setouchi industrial area. I was fed up with the heavy traffic of large vehicles like dump trucks.

After passing Tokuyama and approaching Shin-Nanyo (the two cities merged to form present-day Shunan City), it unfortunately started to rain. At times like this, I take a bathroom break at a pachinko parlor along the highway, using it as shelter from the rain. Despite it being Tuesday afternoon, the place was packed with customers—a good sign of a thriving business. After taking care of business and sipping warm coffee, I peered at the pachinko machines. Sure enough, the pins were wide open.

Nowadays, pachinko is a game of chance where mechanical draws are displayed digitally. Back then, however, there were many tulip machines, also called flat machines (or general machines). These operated on a system where hitting the winning hole returned 15 balls. They were truly analog – meaning, regardless of luck, if a machine paid out, it paid out. This is crucial.

I love pachinko. I knew the importance of “reading the pins” – spotting machines with open pins, or tulip machines with pin adjustments that made balls easier to catch. Specifically, it meant noticing differences from the previous day’s pins, comparing them to neighboring machines, plus experience.

I’d used restrooms at roadside pachinko parlors before, but I’d deliberately avoided playing. If I played my favorite pachinko, I’d never make any progress on my journey.

“This machine, with these nails, should pay out. The rain doesn’t look like it’s stopping, so maybe I’ll play a little.”

Just this once, I broke my rule and sat down at a pachinko machine. The start was a bit rough, but I managed to play until the end. The payout was about 2,500 balls, resulting in a net profit of about 5,000 yen.

While high-cash-out-rate pachinko is mainstream today, back then the standard was “customers borrow balls at 4 yen each, and the shop buys back the customer’s payout at 2.5 yen per ball.” In other words, “the shop benefits from the cash-out difference = they can offer customers payout bonuses.”

What this meant was that shops had leeway in their operating profit margin (based on the payout return rate), allowing them to set up machines where customers could always win (make a profit). Over time, however, shops began competing arbitrarily (attracting customers with high payout rates), raising rates to 3 yen, 3.5 yen, and 4 yen, leading many pachinko parlors to shift to equal-value exchange.

Currently, Tokyo has regulations on equal-value exchange, capping it at 28 balls = 100 yen, approximately 3.57 yen per ball. However, the enforcement of the Entertainment Business Control Law governing pachinko varies by prefecture and local police jurisdiction. Regulations differ regionally, with some permitting equivalent exchange operations, 9 AM openings, or 24-hour operation during New Year’s holidays.

During pachinko’s postwar commercialization, many individuals with roots in the Korean Peninsula and mainland China were involved. They were local residents, often referred to as Zainichi. They were integral members of shopping districts, operating businesses deeply rooted in the community.

Simply put, they avoided shady business practices. They aimed to entertain customers while also generating profits for the shop—essentially achieving a well-balanced, self-sustaining operation within a single establishment. This changed when large pachinko chains entered the market. Backed by capital, they offered generous payout services, accepting losses to lure customers away from existing local shops.

After poaching patrons, they gradually recouped their investments. Many local shops were forced to close under this pressure. Of course, even now, many pachinko parlors are still run by owners of Korean descent. One theory suggests that Korean and North Korean owners combined make up about 90% of the industry.

Recently, the number of people playing pachinko has been decreasing year by year. This is because the pachinko parlors themselves have, over a long period, pushed customers too hard (by squeezing the payout rate and not giving back to customers, essentially ripping them off). The backlash has caused a relentless exodus of customers. As a result, pachinko parlors are effectively strangling themselves, leading to a steady annual decrease in the number of parlors. It’s a vicious cycle.

Of course, this isn’t just about pachinko parlors. Despite the machines being fundamentally just chance-based devices, manufacturers produce and sell pachinko machines costing 300,000 to 400,000 yen each, featuring excessive on-screen effects and flashy decorations. All of this cost is ultimately passed on to customers via the parlors.

Furthermore, it’s a fact that major chain stores exist where, despite year-on-year sales declines, profits remain unchanged—meaning they operate solely by increasing profit margins. This strange, or rather, seemingly irresponsible situation has persisted for several years now.

Back to the story. Unlike today’s unlimited payout operations, pachinko back then operated on a fixed-quantity system. Most had a 4,000-ball limit. However, there were two types: 4,000 balls per machine and 4,000 balls per person. The pachinko parlor that day used the former system.

The machine I played had already paid out about 1,500 balls to the previous player. At 2.5 yen per ball, 4,000 balls would be worth 10,000 yen. At that rate, pachinko stays within the realm of fun. The shop reset these “paid-out machines” as so-called “open machines” so customers could play them again.

“Hey, buddy, you’re winning big. Want to take a break and play some more?” Pachinko prostitutes would approach you while you played. You could tell because they stacked boxes of balls at your feet. “My husband found out I dipped into his retirement fund, and now we’re in a divorce battle.” A wife hooked on pachinko.

This is a story I actually experienced back when the entire pachinko industry, including its customers, was escalating wildly, and it was starting to be called a 20 trillion or even 30 trillion yen industry.

One last thing. I mentioned earlier that modern pachinko relies on luck, but to avoid misunderstanding, I’ll clarify. While each individual draw is indeed a matter of luck, the probability of hitting the jackpot—whether 1 in 100 or 1 in 300—is predetermined by the specific pachinko machine (these machine specifications must be tested and certified by the Security Communications Association, a designated agency of the Public Safety Commission).

The probability converges the more trials you have. In other words, the more times you spin the digital wheel, the less it depends on luck and the more it hits according to the probability. To spin the pachinko digital wheel, you need to get the ball into a specific hole. Some machines have holes that are easier to hit, while others are harder.

This is determined by the adjustment of the pins, meaning the number of trials changes even if you use the same number of balls. Therefore, machines that allow you to perform many digital draws (often called “spinning a lot”) with little money are considered “good machines” or “paying machines.” Finding such machines is the essence of pachinko and leads to winning strategies.

However, even if you play pachinko all day from opening to closing, you can only perform about 3,000 digital spins (big win draws). With such a small number of trials, the probability won’t converge within a single day. Currently, the inherent element of luck is part of what makes pachinko interesting. Conversely, the only surefire strategy is to relentlessly play machines that pay out well.

However, police authorities have recently begun prohibiting parlors from tampering with the nails (a mechanism affecting ball speed) to curb the exploitation of players’ gambling instincts. This means parlors must operate machines in their factory-shipped state, meaning they cannot adjust the ball speed per machine. This is another factor diminishing the appeal of pachinko.

Pachinko, which drifted away from its original gameplay alongside massive payouts and became more like gambling. Eventually, the entire industry, including the customers, grew weary and began to lose its way. Isn’t that the current state of affairs?

Starting next April (2020), smoking will finally be banned inside pachinko parlors (though smoking will be permitted in designated areas like smoking rooms). I hope this serves as an opportunity for pachinko parlors to attract new customers and adopt a healthier, customer-friendly business model.

Somehow, I ended up going off on a tangent about pachinko this time. For those uninterested, this probably wasn’t the most engaging topic.

In the end, after taking shelter from the rain at the pachinko parlor, I’d covered about 50 kilometers that day, with still over 30 kilometers left to reach Yamaguchi. Next time, I’ll finally head from Yamaguchi to Akiyoshi Cave.

２号線は瀬戸内工業地帯をつなぐメイン道路です。ダンプなどの大型車の交通量の多さにうんざりしていました。

徳山を過ぎ、新南陽(両市は合併、現在の周南市)に差しかかるころ、まずいことに雨が降り始めました。こんな時は街道沿いのパチンコ店で雨宿りを兼ねてトイレ休憩を取ります。店内は火曜日の昼間だというのにお客でいっぱい、客付きの良さは優良店の証しです。小用を済ませ、温かいコーヒーをすすりながらパチンコ台を覗くと、さもありなん、釘がパックリ開いています。
今でこそパチンコは機械的な抽選をデジタル表示する運任せの遊技ですが、当時はヒラ台(一般台とも)と呼ばれるチューリップ台も多く、それらは当たり穴に入れば15発の玉が戻される仕組みで、まさにアナログ、つまり運に頼ることなく出る台は出た、ここ大事です。

私はパチンコ好き。「釘を読む」つまり釘が開いた台、チューリップに飛び込みやすい釘の調整を見分ける大切さを知っていました。具体的には前日の釘との違いや隣の台との釘の比較、プラス経験値です。
これまでも街道沿いのパチンコ店でトイレを利用させてもらっていましたが、自ら封印して一度もパチンコを打ったことはありませんでした。好きなパチンコを打っていたら、道中いっこうに先に進めないからです。
「この台、この釘なら出るだろうな。雨は止みそうにないし、少し打つか」この時ばかりは禁を破り、パチンコ台に着席。出足こそ手こずりましたが無事に打ち止め、出玉は約2,500発ほど、差し引きプラス5,000円です。

現在では高換金率のパチンコが主流ですが、当時は「客が１玉を４円で借り、店側が客の出玉を2.5円で買い戻す」というのが主流でした。つまり「換金差の分だけ店が有利＝お客に出玉のサービスができる」どういうことかというと、店が営業する際の割数(わりすう＝出玉還元率による利益率)に余裕ができ、お客側が必ず勝てる(儲かる)台を店側が用意できたのです。それがいつしか店側の勝手な競争原理(高換金率で集客する)で３円、3.5円、４円と換金率を上げ、多くのパチンコ店が等価交換に移行していきます。
現在、東京都では等価交換に規制が入り、28玉＝100円、約3.57円がマックスです。ただしパチンコを管理する風営法の運用は都道府県、所轄警察によって規制に違いがあります。等価交換での営業が許されていたり、朝９時開店や年末年始の24時間営業など地域によって違いがあるのです。

戦後、パチンコが商売として成立していく過程で多くの朝鮮半島や大陸にルーツを持つ人が関わります。彼らはいわゆる在日といわれる地元の人です。商店街のメンバーの一員でもあり、地元密着型の営業をしていました。平たくいうとアコギな営業をしない、お客に楽しんでもらい、なお且つお店の利益も生む、つまりいい意味で一つのお店の中で収支をバランスよく完結することができたのです。それが大手パチンコチェーン店が進出してくると業態に変化が生じます。資本力をバックに赤字覚悟で出玉のサービスを行い、既存の地元店から客を奪った後で、じわじわと客から回収にかかるのです。そんな中で多くの地元店が閉店に追いやられていきました。もちろん、今でも多くのパチンコ店が在日系のオーナーによる経営です。一説によると韓国系と北朝鮮系を合わせて90％といわれています。

ここへ来てにパチンコをする人が年々減ってきています。というのもパチンコ店側が長きにわたりお客をいじめ過ぎた(出玉率をしぼり、客に還元しないボッタクリ)反動で、客離れが止まらないのです。結果、自ら首を絞める形でパチンコ店の店舗数も年々減少しています。悪循環というヤツです。
もちろん、パチンコ店だけの話ではありません。当たりと外れだけの機械の仕様にもかかわらず、パチンコ台製造メーカーは、モニター上での過度な演出や、ド派手な装飾で１台30～40万円もするパチンコ台を製造・販売しています。それらが全てパチンコ店を介してお客に跳ね返ってくるのです。
また、前年比売り上げが落ちているにもかかわらず収益は変わらない、つまり利益率のみ上げて営業をしている大手チェーン店が存在するのも事実です。こんな不思議というか、いい加減とも思えることがここ数年続いているのです。

話を戻します。当時のパチンコは現在の出玉無制限営業と違って定量制でした。多くが4,000発定量の打ち止めです。ただし、一台4,000発と一人4,000発の二通りがありました。この日のパチンコ店は前者でした。私の打ったパチンコ台は前に座った人がすでに1,500発ほど出していたということです。１玉＝2,5円換金、打ち止め4,000発の出玉で10,000円です。これならパチンコは遊びの範囲です。お店は「打ち止め台」をリセットして、いわゆる「開放台」としてお客が再び遊技できるようにしていたのです。

「お兄さん、出てるじゃない。ちょっと休憩して遊ばない？」遊技中に声をかけてくるパチンコ売春。出玉を足元に箱積みしているのでわかるのです。「旦那の退職金に手を出したのがバレて、離婚騒ぎになっている」パチンコにハマってしまった奥さん。
お客を含めてパチンコ業界全体が過激にエスカレートし、20兆円とも30兆円産業ともいわれ始めたころの私が実際に経験した話です。

最後にもう一つ。最近のパチンコは運任せと記しましたが、誤解があってはいけないので追記します。抽選は確かに１回毎の運任せなのですが、その大当たりの抽選確率は100分の１、300分の１などパチンコ台によって決まっています(これらパチンコ台のスペックは公安委員会の指定機関、(財)保安通信協会(通称、保通協)の試験、認定を受けなくてはなりません)。確率は試行回数が多ければ多いほど収束に向かいます。つまりデジタルを多く回せば回すほど運に左右されずに確率通りに当たるということです。パチンコのデジタルを回すには特定の穴にパチンコ玉を入れる必要があります。その穴に入りやすい台と入りにくい台があります。それは釘の調整によって左右され、同じ玉数を費やしても試行回数が変わってくるのです。つまり少ないお金で多くのデジタル抽選(多く回すといいます)ができる台が「いい台」「出る台」ということになります。そんな台を探すのがパチンコの醍醐味、必勝法につながります。ただし、開店から閉店まで一日パチンコを打ったとしてもデジタルを回せる(大当り抽選回数)のは3,000回ちょい、こんな少ない試行回数ではその日の内に確率は収束しません。今は「結果的に運任せ」そんな所がパチンコの面白さになっています。逆にいうと回る台をひたすら回すことしか必勝法はないのです。
ただし、警察はここに来て射幸心をあおるということで店側に釘をイジることを禁じ始めました。メーカーが出荷したままの状態のパチンコ台での営業、つまり台ごとに回転数にメリハリをつけるなということです。これもまたパチンコの面白さを削ぐ一つになっています。

大量出玉とともに本来の遊技から離れ、ギャンブル化していったパチンコ。やがてお客を含めた業界全体が疲れ、迷走をし始めた。そんな現状があるのではないでしょうか。
来年の４月からやっとパチンコ店内での禁煙が実施されます(喫煙室などの特定の場所での喫煙可)。これを機に新たなお客の掘り起こしとともに、お客に優しい健全な営業をパチンコ店にお願いしたいものです。
今回は脱線してなぜかパチンコの話になってしまいました。興味のない人には面白くも何ともない話でした。

結局、雨宿りのパチンコでこの日の走行距離は50キロほど、まだ山口まで30キロ以上あります。

次回こそ、山口から秋芳洞へ向かいます。