How Many Spins Can You Jam Into A Minute Of Online Slot Play? A Lot

I spent part of last week timing how fast I could lose money.

For science.

Here's what's going on: Some regulators of online casinos around the world have gotten fixated on one very specific number: 2.5 seconds. That's how long they think should pass between slot spins.

The United Kingdom got there first. Back in 2021, the U.K. Gambling Commission banned spins faster than 2.5 seconds, pulled the plug on autoplay, and killed the turbo buttons that let you spin those reels like a banshee.

Canada followed, as Ontario wrote the same 2.5-second rule into its standards in 2022. This month, Alberta copied it when its market went live: 2.5 seconds between spins, no autoplay, tap the button every single time.

Finland also may join the slow play revolution. In June, the country's Ministry of the Interior floated a batch of proposed slot rules ahead of a planned 2027 launch, and there it is again — 2.5 seconds, plus a ban on autoplay and turbo buttons.

Germany looked at 2.5 seconds and said nah, too fast. Over there it's a five-second rule. Fünf!

So what does 2.5 seconds buy you? Simple math: 60 seconds, divided by 2.5, equals 24 spins a minute. That's the max. The ceiling.

Which got me curious. When I sit down at an American online casino — where none of these rules exist — how fast am I really going? Under 24? Over? Way over?

So I ran an experiment.

I grabbed three slots, fired up a stopwatch, and gave each one a minute. I did it three ways: spinning like a normal person, spinning on autoplay, and spinning with what I'll generously call the Edelstein fast-thumb technique.

A few housekeeping notes: I let regular wins run on the clock, but I paused the timer for bonus rounds and picked it back up when they ended. Also, I played all these games on demo mode at Mohegan Sun in New Jersey. Gameplay was the same, but all my losses — there were losses — were theoretical.

Here's what I found.

Slow ride

Cash Eruption routinely shows up on homepages at nearly every online casino, clearly a very popular game with many variations.

I played the regular ol’ version, the classic, the one and only Cash Eruption.

And at least at Mohegan, you don’t have much of a choice but to play slow.

Just spinning regularly — which means spin, wait for the reels to stop, spin again — I was able to get 14 spins in a minute. Nearly German-esque.

Switch it to autospin, and it bumped up to 15.

There was no lightning button or increase-speed button or anything of the sort, so for the third round, I just depended on my super-fast thumb. And even then, I was only able to get up to 18 spins.

No matter what I tried, I could not get Cash Eruption to spin any faster.

In short: Cash Eruption is more like Cash Dribble a Little Lava, You Have Plenty Of Time.

Huffing and puffing

Next up was my current go-to slot, Huff N’ Puff Highrise.

Spinning like a human being resulted in 23 spins. Basically, we’re finding the 2.5-second rule is just about how long a slot game takes to actually play.

But when I hit the “lightning bolt” symbol for faster gameplay, things got serious. On automatic spins, I hit 60. A spin a second.

And then when I just used my thumbs, I got up to 67. More than a spin a second.

Huffing and puffing indeed.

Blitzkrieg

Third and final experiment: 7s Fire Blitz Hot Stepper.

Whoa.

Regular spins? Again, under the 2.5-second-per-spin barometer, as I got in 20 spins.

Throw it on auto spins and … well that was a surprise. Came in at 18 total.

At the bottom of the screen, however, was a trio of arrows. Slow, fast … and ludicrous, it would appear.

On auto mode, the slots spun 50 times.

When I went off auto mode and went into fast-thumb mode … 95 spins. In a minute.

For those scoring at home, that’s 136,800 spins in a 24-hour period.

Mmmmm … maybe too fast?

Because here’s the thing: When playing slots at the normal pace, where it is 2.5 seconds — or more — between spins, it feels almost pastoral. Like a walk in the park. Dare I say … relaxing.

Start using fast thumbs, and it becomes manic. It becomes watching the world burn. It becomes a problem, frankly.

It’s not even fun.

So where do I land here? Basically, this: I appeal to the powers-that-be at America’s online casinos and regulators to do what’s smart before the politicians come knocking. Which they will. Eventually. Be proactive here. A little space between spins is a good idea.