The floor pays the council
Slot halls, roulette floors and blackjack tables fill the one district built purely for leisure. You run it the way you run any other zone: licences first, then staffing, floor layout and whatever the tourist season sends your way.
Chips circulate inside the district and nowhere else, and what the floor takes comes back to the city as tax. Every table is played against the simulation — there is no competitive gambling anywhere in the game.
Nothing opens without a licence, and licence tiers are tied to the civic rating the leisure district feeds. A city that neglects its parks finds the casino district capped three tiers below what it could otherwise support, which is the main reason the two zones are usually built together.
Slot halls, roulette, blackjack and baccarat each carry their own odds, volatility and staffing cost. They behave like the economic objects they are: a floor stuffed with high-volatility machines earns well on a busy night and embarrasses the budget on a quiet one.
Virtual chips never leave the district. Takings surface in the city ledger as a tax line, tourism demand rises and falls with what you have licensed, and the whole thing can be run at a loss if you would rather have the visitor numbers than the revenue.
