I didn’t need to win big—I just needed to click ‘Fly’ and let the algorithm cry softly into my soul. My dad was an engineer. My mom? An aviation poet who wrote turbulence in haiku. Now I track RPs like a monk meditating on altitude… while AI deletes my jackpot like it’s last Tuesday’s spam. The real trick? Flying isn’t luck—it’s 50 BRL/session of pure emotional data archaeology. Want to join the cult? Bring your screenshots. And yes—you don’t need to be a gamer.

P.S. If this post got you nodding… you’re already winning.