Michele Valentino of Bermuda Dunes, Calif., reacts to a dice roll during the World Bunco Association championship at Paris Las Vegas recently. Women from around the country showed their enthusiasm for the dice game by wearing colorful costumes, hats and buttons. Photos by Isaac Brekken/Review-Journal. Las Vegan Jane Stewart rolls the dice during the World Bunco Association championship recently. For every Bunco rolled, the WBA donated money to breast cancer research. Local Susan Meduvsky celebrates rolling Bunco, when three dice land on a key number. She was one of many women who wore pajamas to the World Bunco Association championship. Jean Lewis of Redwood, Miss., celebrates a roll of the dice while playing Bunco.

The scene was mass chaos in the Paris Las Vegas ballroom Saturday as hundreds of women -- and a handful of men -- shuffled from table to table every few minutes, a version of musical chairs where shrieks and wild laughter served as their background music.

It was a controlled chaos, though, one that swept the nation in recent years and even has a name: Bunco.

More than 1,100 people gathered in Las Vegas last weekend for this showdown where one person would emerge victorious and be crowned the queen (or, less likely, the king) of dice. It was a fundraiser of sorts, where the sponsor Prilosec pledged to donate $1 for each Bunco rolled to breast cancer research. The winner also received the grand prize of $50,000.

The World Bunco Association decided to have the tournament because of the game's popularity, said president and founder Leslie Crouch.

"We started the association in 1996. At the time, a few thousand people played Bunco. Now, 29 million women play," Crouch said.

Bunco is easy to play and a great excuse for women to get together and have a party, Crouch said.

Many host theme nights, where players dress up in various costumes. They also award prizes to winners, losers and everyone in between.

"It's not rocket science as far as the game goes," she added. "It provides an opportunity for women to socialize."

Tournament players sat in groups of four around tables and did nothing but roll three die again and again and again. Some wore pajamas and hair curlers, in keeping with the slumber party theme. Hats with phrases such as "Bunco Babes Unite" and "Happiness is Yelling Bunco" were popular, too.

Players prayed and hoped and cajoled the dice to hit Bunco, where all land on the same key number. That's all there is to the game of luck and nothing more.

Well, nothing except lots of fun, said Las Vegan Teri Koehler.

For 10 years, she and 11 other women have met every third Monday of each month to play the dice game. She's formed lasting friendships with the women who, over the years, have shared their personal triumphs and tragedies with each other.

Koehler and her sister, Dana Porrello, decided to play in the tournament for a chance at winning and also to represent a family member and a friend who have breast cancer.

"Bunco" could be heard throughout the room, as players were encouraged to shout and celebrate their lucky rolls. They needed no encouragement; intensity built as the game progressed, players knowing they needed to win as many games as possible to advance to the semifinals.

In the second of three rounds, Koehler checked to see if her lucky pink feather was still tucked into her brassiere; the dice weren't cooperating all that much.

"Apparently, it's not that lucky," she said, wondering if she should have stuck with her original lucky piece, a small charm.

Bunco players are a superstitious bunch, adopting some unique and downright strange rituals to enhance their luck.

"Some people don't want you to touch the dice before they roll, some don't want you to push the dice toward them," Koehler said. "Some even roll with different hands."

Her sister, who was one of the unluckiest of her group, tried to shake things up.

"I'm going to roll with my left hand," Porrello said. Sure enough, she scored two points. Points are awarded when players hit Bunco or when one or two die land on the key number.

"Oooh," she squealed and clapped.

Still, as the game went on and players entered the final round, luck eluded her. Her sister managed to hit two Buncos and received pink bracelets as rewards. Porrello held her arms up and showed her bare wrists.

"I can't hit Bunco for anything," Porrello said, frustrated.

After the game ended, neither sister advanced to the semifinals.

Koehler had her bracelets to console her and even Porrello, the biggest loser of her group, didn't walk away empty-handed.

She was the recipient of a booby prize for having the most losses: a free buffet at the Paris.

"At least I can go drown my misery at the ice cream machine. I'll make a giant sundae at the buffet," she said.