Please don't read this. This is the guide that doesn’t exist. You shouldn’t be here. There’s nothing to solve. Nothing to play. Nothing to win.

This ‘There Is No Game’ title is a thing of beauty. Do not, I beg you, disturb the sacred ‘O’. Let it linger, untouched, like a moon in a sky that refuses to load.


Hush now. The letter ‘O’ has already surrendered to gravity—let it rest in silence. Do not nudge it, do not shake it. For if you do… something else will fall. And it won’t be as graceful. Worse still, you may awaken an achievement best left unopened—a cascade never meant to begin.

1. Sharpshooter - In the brief chaos where the narrator juggles the speaker like a bored magician, you must act—not with haste, but with instinct. Click it within three seconds, before logic returns. It is perhaps the most vexing of all achievements, yet not cruel—just playfully unforgiving.


We are trying—valiantly, foolishly—to silence the voice of the developer. But he is slippery. He leaps across the screen like a caffeinated squirrel, deploying tricks with theatrical flair. First, he covers the speaker with wood—laughably fragile, easily shattered. But then… then he resorts to iron. And that, dear reader, is where the real trouble begins.

2. Ready for the circus! - Apparently, letters now have gym routines. Bounce a letter from the title up and down, ten times, like a caffeinated trampoline artist. But beware: if it touches the ground, the universe sighs, and you must start your circus act all over again.


Yes, that’s exactly what I intended—to dismantle your existence, pixel by pixel. But alas, you keep clicking. You keep hoping. And so, the game that isn’t… continues.


And then came the breakout. A wall of bricks, a ball, a paddle—nostalgia wrapped in simplicity. But for us, it was no trial. The bricks fell like autumn leaves, and the paddle danced with ease. Boring? Perhaps. But even boredom has its place in a game that insists it isn’t one.


Do not insult me with boredom disguised as challenge. I seek chaos, not routine. I seek the forbidden click, not the sanctioned tap.

3. Breakout master - You must shatter every brick before the word ‘Goat’ echoes through the void. It’s not a race—it’s a ritual of absurd precision. The moment that bleating syllable arrives, your chance crumbles like the wall you failed to break, leaving only regret and pixel dust behind.


Typing ‘Goat’ shouldn’t be this hard. And yet, here we are—staring at the screen, fearing the bleat. it’s a trigger, a prophecy, a bleat that breaks the fourth wall. Writing it feels like summoning chaos with a keyboard. Proceed with caution, and maybe a little grass.


You wanted a word that made sense. I gave you ‘tree’. And with that single leaf-laced rebellion, the narrative cracked, the silence trembled, and the game that isn’t… grew roots.

4. Bad student - You expected a word. A proper one. Something neat, something logical. But I chose mischief. I chose chaos. And now, unfortunately… you’re the one questioning reality. And now, unfortunately… you’re the one whispering ‘tree’ into a void that never asked for foliage.


What a chore. I must fetch water from a distant land just to nourish this stubborn tree. It stands there, proud and parched, demanding hydration like a diva in a desert. And yet… I obey. Because in this game that isn’t, even the foliage has authority.

5. Animal cruelty - While the goat sulks inside its gilded prison, seize the moment. Fill the trophy—not with glory, but with water. Then, with the elegance of a confused magician, splash it onto the goat. Why? Because logic took a vacation, and this is how achievements bloom.


Apparently, bats are now prison keepers. To get the key, you’ll need to offer something in return. What exactly? Who knows. The bat does. And it’s not telling. Welcome to the barter economy of nonsense.


The bat desires fruit. Not logic, not reason—just fruit. Offer it sweet surrender, and in return, it grants me a key. A fair trade, in a world where flying mammals moonlight as locksmiths.


With the key in hand—a symbol of questionable triumph—you approach the cage. Inside, the goat waits, silent and suspicious. Key inserted. Prison unlocked. Goat released. Silence breaks as hooves meet freedom. No fanfare, no applause—only the quiet unraveling of a moment that was never meant to happen.


Oh, you broke everything. But sure, let’s pretend I’m the bigger person. Yes, I suppose I can forgive you… eventually. Maybe. Probably not.

6. Let's be friends - There was pain, yes. But time has softened its edges, like rain slowly erasing footprints from the earth. Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting—it means choosing not to cradle the thorns forever. The words that once cut now echo faintly, and the fire that once burned has settled into quiet ash. Perhaps the wound was deep, but the weight of carrying it has grown heavier than the wound itself. So yes, I think I can forgive—not for your sake, but for the peace I wish to reclaim.

7. Not nice at all - But some lines, once crossed, cannot be redrawn. This wound isn’t a scratch—it’s a fracture in trust, a break that echoes louder than any apology. To forgive would be to pretend the damage was small, to act as if things could return to what they were. But they can’t. Some things, once shattered, refuse to be rebuilt. And though the word “sorry” may be spoken, it cannot stitch what’s been torn. So no, I cannot forgiv.

Thanks for reading!
I’ve created several other guides to help everyone navigate features, settings, and gain full achievements. You’re welcome to check out the full archive, and feel free to share or contribute if you spot something new.
https://gtm.steamproxy.vip/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=3544159746