Published in cooperation between AdventureGamers and the GilroyDispatch
California’s gaming industry has found itself back in familiar territory. Officials describe it as an effort to align oversight and bring consistency across the state’s gambling sector. But inside the industry, the move feels less like a procedural update and more like a return to the oldest feud in California gaming.
There’s history here. California’s gaming landscape rests on a fragile balance struck in the 1980s and 1990s, when tribes won the right to operate casinos on sovereign land through federal and state agreements. Card rooms, often established long before those compacts, were allowed to continue operating but only within certain limits. They could host poker and other non-banked games, but not anything resembling a casino pit. Over time, the line blurred.
Third-party proposition player services emerged, allowing card rooms to simulate banked games without technically violating the rule. Online sites flourished with the rise of the internet and technology, where California gambling sites from Jovan Milenkovic’s list offer diverse games, bonuses and fast USD withdrawals, all competing for players who have more options than ever. Those platforms are especially popular because there are no domestic online casinos in California, due to legal limitations.
Regulators tolerated it, perhaps because the economic contribution of card rooms mattered to local communities. Now that the gray area is under fresh scrutiny. The Attorney General’s office says the new rules will increase transparency and strengthen integrity in gambling oversight. The accusation isn’t new, but it gains traction each time regulators propose new limits on non-tribal operators.
Tribal casinos, by contrast, welcome the proposal. They claim card rooms have long stepped beyond their legal boundaries by offering “banked” or “house-banked” games. These formats mirror casino-style play, which tribal compacts grant exclusively to tribes. From their perspective, the new rules would simply bring enforcement back to where the law always intended it to be. To tribal leaders, this isn’t about expansion; it’s about restoring order in a market that has drifted too far into the gray.
The economic footprint of this rivalry is enormous. California has over 70 tribal casinos and around 85 licensed card rooms. The proposed rules have triggered reactions that stretch beyond industry boardrooms. Worker groups tied to both sides are preparing to voice their positions publicly. Card-room employees worry about job losses if smaller establishments close or cut hours. Tribal casino unions, meanwhile, support reforms they believe could bring more uniform regulation and discourage gray-market practices. Previously, they’ve lobbied at the state capitol when a similar situation occurred. Now, the coming months may bring rallies, hearings and a string of local debates about what “fairness” means in this context.
Some analysts suggest that if the reforms pass as written, tribal casinos could further consolidate their hold on the state’s gambling market. Card rooms that can’t meet the new compliance costs might sell, merge or shut down entirely. A few might pivot to hospitality or food service to survive, but most depend on gaming revenue to stay afloat. The industry’s structure could look very different within a few years, more centralized and dominated by tribal operations.
Still, there’s a human side often lost in policy debates. Many card rooms are family-owned, passed down over decades. They anchor local economies in smaller towns, providing steady employment where few other industries do. If regulations push them out, those communities lose more than entertainment. They lose a familiar place, a local employer and part of their civic fabric.
When people ask whether tribes “want it all,” the question misses some nuance. Tribal leaders don’t frame it that way. They see it as defending sovereignty and legal rights they fought to establish. The outcome could redefine California’s gambling map for decades to come, shaping not only who profits but also how fairness is measured in one of the country’s most complex gaming markets.
