The Complete Noillirk Guide

Noillirk shows you a category and asks what most people would say. You type an answer before the 30-second clock runs out, the answer lands somewhere on a ranked board of what a hundred people would say, and the rank decides your points — which decide how high your balloon climbs.

Press play on the home page and pick the Daily — it is the mode everyone shares. Read the prompt twice, type the first answer that feels universal, and submit. The board reveal shows where your answer landed and what the top of the board held. Ten of those make a climb.

• Read the prompt fully — the category word is doing the work
• Type the crowd’s answer, not the clever one
• Watch the reveal: it teaches you how boards think
• Finish all ten — the last rounds score quadruple

Every prompt gives you thirty seconds, which is enough to think twice but not enough to enumerate. A blank scores zero, so a hesitant decent answer always beats a perfect answer that never got typed. Passing is available but almost never correct — an off-board accepted answer still earns ten points.

The round counter and multiplier tell you what a top answer is worth right now. The crowd meter fills as points stack — one onlooker per 23 points, a hundred at a perfect run. The altitude ticker is your score wearing a different unit: points times two meters. Sound and motion toggles live in the corner, and the game respects your system’s reduced-motion setting.

The result card shows your score, altitude, and crowd without spoiling any answers — safe to drop in the group chat. Your Daily streak increments if you played yesterday, your bests update if today beat them, and the archive of what you just faced lives in your memory, not on a server.

Daily Climb is the heart of Noillirk: ten prompts, the same ten for everyone on the same calendar day, reset at midnight your local time. Each prompt names a category and gives you 30 seconds to type the answer you think most people would give. The more common your answer is on the board, the more it scores — and the more of the 100-person crowd walks over to your tile. Because everyone answers the same prompts, your Daily score is directly comparable with friends: no luck of the draw, no cherry-picked categories. The round multipliers also stack in your favour late — rounds nine and ten score quadruple, so a strong finish swings hundreds of points. A perfect Daily (ten top answers) lands you at the Stratosphere Gate, roughly 4,600 meters up.

• Answering ten rotating prompts across every topic family
• Chasing the Stratosphere Gate — a perfect Daily climb
• Keeping your day streak alive, one climb at a time
• Sharing your result card with friends after the final prompt

Quick Ten deals you ten prompts at flat scoring — every round counts the same, so it is the fairest place to learn how boards are built. The prompt pool is weighted toward everyday categories: food, animals, household objects. If you are new to Noillirk, this is where the "say what most people would say" instinct gets trained. Two moments call for Quick Ten: warming up before the Daily, and filling the gap after it. Because scoring is flat there is no multiplier drama — a perfect Quick Ten peaks at two thousand meters, a respectable number that the Daily's late-round multipliers exist to beat. This mode's job is reps, not records.

• Ten flat-scored prompts from the everyday topic pool
• Practising board instinct without multiplier pressure
• Testing whether an unusual answer lands on the board at all
• Warming up your vocabulary before the Daily resets

Marathon Twenty doubles the Daily: twenty prompts with the full multiplier cycle running twice, so the late rounds score quadruple twice over. The ceiling is the highest in the game — a flawless Marathon passes nine kilometers, past the Stratosphere Gate and on to the Marathon Peak that only flawless long runs ever see. Twenty timed prompts is a focus test as much as a vocabulary test. Fatigue answers are how strong runs die: round fourteen is where players start typing the first thing that pops up instead of the most common thing. The mode rewards the same discipline as the Daily — pause, think of the crowd, then type.

• Twenty prompts with the multiplier cycle run twice
• Chasing the Marathon Peak — the highest milestone in the game
• Deep runs through screen-culture and sports boards
• Long-session score chasing without a daily limit

Endless Sky deals prompts one after another at flat ×1 scoring until you produce nothing on the board three times in a row — there is no fixed length and no multiplier schedule. Every point still lifts you, and because the whole bank is in rotation, no two runs feel the same. Endless is the mode for one-more-run. It is also the honest measuring stick: with flat scoring and no chosen categories, your average Endless altitude over many runs is the truest read of your board instinct. The mode draws from every topic family equally — there is nothing to queue-fish.

• Unlimited prompts at flat scoring until three straight misses
• Rotating through the entire prompt bank without repeats in a run
• Altitude grinding for the pure joy of the number going up
• Practising every topic family with no way to specialize

Noillirk scores your answer by how high it sits on the board — the board being our estimate of how a hundred people would answer, from most common down to tenth. Rank one is worth 100 base points, ranks two and three are worth 70, ranks four and five 45, ranks six through ten 20. Any accepted answer that misses the printed board still earns 10, because a real answer a real person would give deserves something. A pass or a timeout scores zero.

Later prompts count more. In the Daily and Marathon Twenty, rounds one through three score ×1, rounds four through six ×2, rounds seven and eight ×3, and rounds nine and ten ×4. Marathon Twenty runs the cycle twice. Quick Ten and Endless Sky stay flat at ×1 — that is what makes them the learning modes.

Every point lifts you two meters, so a good Daily — say 1,400 points — puts you at 2,800 meters, through the High Winds and into the Jet Stream. A perfect Daily is 2,300 points (ten top answers under the full multiplier schedule) and lands exactly at the Stratosphere Gate, 4,600 meters up. Marathon Twenty doubles everything: a perfect run is 4,600 points and the 9,200-meter Marathon Peak.

• Altitude = points × 2 meters
• Perfect Daily: 2,300 points / 4,600 m
• Perfect Marathon: 4,600 points / 9,200 m
• Crowd: one onlooker joins per 23 points, up to 100

Matching forgives the small stuff. Capitalization, punctuation, and the leading "the" are ignored, plurals of board answers count, and single-letter typos on longer words are forgiven — typing "tokoyo" for Tokyo still lands. What does not count: different answers entirely, brand-versus-generic splits where the board holds the generic form, and answers longer than the clock allows you to type.

Every board is our advance estimate of a hundred-people census, marked as such. It is not a live tally of today's players, and it is not mutable — the estimate for a prompt does not shift because players found a loophole. That stability is the point: your score measures your feel for the crowd, on the same board everyone else faces that day.

Every point you score lifts you two meters, so altitude is just your run total wearing a altimeter. A top answer (rank one) is worth 100 base points; ranks two and three score 70, ranks four and five score 45, ranks six through ten score 20, and any accepted answer below the board still earns 10. The Daily and Marathon multiply rounds late — ×1, ×1, ×1, ×2, ×2, ×2, ×3, ×3, ×4, ×4 — which is how a perfect Daily reaches 2,300 points and 4,600 meters.

The first two tiers fall out of almost any run; the middle tiers need a handful of top answers; the Stratosphere Gate demands a flawless Daily, and the Marathon Peak only opens on a flawless twenty-prompt run. Endless Sky has no ceiling, so it skips the roster entirely — its number is whatever your streak of good guesses adds up to.

The Ground Breeze is the "the game works on you" milestone: one top answer (100) plus any board hit clears it. There is no strategy gate here — it exists so every first session ends with a number and a name.

Hilltop asks for roughly two top answers or a run of mid-board hits. In a flat-scored Quick Ten it means averaging 25 points per prompt — very reachable once you stop second-guessing the obvious.

Five hundred points is where the run starts to feel like a climb. It is the halfway mark of a Quick Ten and comfortably inside a decent Daily; the crowd counter should read around twenty-one onlookers by the time you break through.

A thousand points is a perfect Quick Ten played flawlessly — ten rounds, every answer a rank-one. In the Daily the same number arrives earlier than you would think, because the ×2 and ×3 rounds double and triple your best answers for you.

The Jet Stream gate sits above anything a flat-scored mode can reach. From here on, altitude belongs to Daily and Marathon players who hit most of the board tops and keep the multipliers fed.

Two thousand points means at most one or two blemishes on a Daily scorecard. The crowd counter reads in the eighties; the board summaries at the end of the run should be almost entirely green.

2,300 points, 4,600 meters, all one hundred onlookers at your tile. The Stratosphere Gate is the Daily's true completion mark: ten prompts, ten monolith answers, no zeros, no substitutes. The multiplier schedule is what turns ten hundreds into twenty-three hundred — the run's last four rounds alone are worth 800. Not difficulty — attention. Most Gate attempts die on one narrow board prompt where a good answer beats the great one, or on a late-round blank caused by clock panic. The board remembers one thing: the crowd's number one, not yours.

4,600 points, 9,200 meters — the summit of the roster and the only gate above the Stratosphere Gate. Twenty flawless answers, with the ×1-×4 multiplier cycle completing twice, is the most concentrated board-reading the game can ask of anyone. The math is unforgiving: one blank at round sixteen costs four times its face value, and fatigue makes round-sixteen blanks. The Peak is less a vocabulary test than a twenty-prompt attention test with a vocabulary costume on.

Every run starts with one hundred onlookers watching from their own tiles. As your points stack up, they walk over to yours — one newcomer for every 23 points. A flawless Daily (2,300 points) brings all hundred across; a modest Quick Ten might gather fifteen. The crowd is a scoreboard you can feel: the fuller your tile, the better you played.

The crowd is presentation; the underlying points are the real currency. They drive your altitude (points × 2 meters), your milestones, and your result card. Nothing is spent, wagered, or lost — there is no shop in the fan edition, and the crowd refills to one hundred at the start of every run regardless of yesterday.

Completing the Daily on consecutive local days builds a streak, shown on the home screen and remembered in your browser. Streaks are for you alone: they gate nothing and unlock nothing — they are the quiet record of showing up. Miss a day and the count resets to zero; there are no streak freezes and no repairs.

• One completed Daily = one streak day
• Consecutive local days; midnight follows your device clock
• Miss a day — back to zero, no exceptions, no pity items
• Your best-ever streak is remembered next to the current one

The game remembers your best Daily score, best altitude, and largest crowd in this browser, and shows them beside each new run. Beating yourself is the intended long-term game: the crowd you drew last Tuesday is the opponent for today's Daily, and it never has an off day.

The crowd mechanic makes result cards legible: "86/100 crowd, 1,980 points, 3,960 m" tells your group chat everything without spoiling a single answer. For actual head-to-head play, see the challenges page — same-day Dailies are directly comparable because everyone faces the same ten boards.

Through same-day Dailies and result cards. Everyone in the world gets the same ten prompts each day, so finishing the Daily and sharing your result card is a real head-to-head: same boards, same clock, same multiplier schedule, no server, no lobby, no waiting for the other side to be online. The group chat is the leaderboard.

• Same ten prompts for every player on the same calendar day
• Spoiler-safe result cards — scores and crowd, never answers
• No account, no room codes, no synchronous scheduling
• Any number of friends — the comparison scales to your chat

Because the Daily already is multiplayer in every way that matters. A shared puzzle is the soul of the format: the comparison is interesting precisely because both players sat with the same boards alone. Live lobbies would add a server, accounts, and waiting — and subtract the play-when-you-have-five-minutes property that makes a daily game daily.

Groups invent their own formats on top of the shared Daily, and the structure supports them well. Two established favorites: the week league (sum seven Dailies, worst day dropped) and the gate race (first to clear a named milestone three times in a week). Both need nothing but your group's result cards and an honest scorekeeper.

Three conventions keep comparisons honest: play the Daily before reading anyone's card (the cards are spoiler-safe, but mood is not a controlled variable), play your own run with your own head — outside help is a forfeit by the only rule that matters, which is that you wanted to know — and accept the midnight reset of your own timezone without auditing anyone else's.

Prompts in this family name a place or ask for one: capitals, countries, rivers, landmarks, landscapes. The boards are built from what a hundred people would blurt first, which makes them unusually predictable — most crowds converge on the same handful of places they learned in school or saw in movies. Broad boards, almost every time. Ask a hundred people for a European capital and the top slot is nearly always the same three cities, with the rest of the board filled by famous-but-second-tier picks. For world-spanning prompts ("a country people dream of visiting") the board splits between classic picks and trending destinations, so rank two and three are where the real guessing happens. The classic trap is answering like a trivia champion instead of like a crowd: naming the correct-but-obscure capital scores ten points while the crowd-pleasing answer scores a hundred. The other trap is over-thinking rivers and mountains — most people know the same three of each. Geography prompts are reliable earners in the Daily because the top of the board is so stable. Lock in the obvious pick, bank the points, and spend your saved seconds on the narrower prompts later in the run.

The friendliest family in the bank: fruits, breakfasts, comfort foods, drinks, snacks, what you bring to a barbecue. Everyone eats, so everyone has an answer — and the crowd's answer is usually the first thing that came to your mind too. Food boards are the broadest in the game. The top slot is dominated by one or two megabrands of the category (the pizza-of-pizzas, the coffee-of-coffees), then a long tail of honorable mentions. Off-board accepted answers are common here because regional vocabulary varies — your soda word and the board's soda word might both count. The trap is personal taste. Your favorite dish is not the crowd's favorite dish; boards are a census, not a review. The subtler trap is over-specifying — "pepperoni pizza" is a worse answer than "pizza" when the prompt just asks for a food, because the board slot is the plain word. Quick Ten spotlights this family because flat scoring plus broad boards is the gentlest learning environment. In multiplied rounds, food prompts are free points if you trust your first instinct and resist the urge to get fancy.

Prompts about famous films, shows, characters, and the things in them: a movie that makes people cry, a cartoon character everyone knows, a show families watch together. The boards are built from decades of shared screen culture, so they skew older and more universal than the internet would have you believe. Narrow boards with a monolith on top. Screen prompts usually have one undisputed number one — the highest-grossing tearjerker, the most-watched sitcom — and then a steep drop. The top slot is worth a hundred points precisely because nearly everyone converges on it; the fight is for rank two, where three or four titles sit within a few votes of each other. The trap is recency. The film everyone tweeted about last month is not the film a hundred random people would name today — boards favor the eternal over the current. Franchise entries also split their own vote: if two films from the same saga would both occur to the crowd, the board usually holds the saga, not the sequel. In Marathon Twenty this family is where runs are won: the multiplier hits ×3 and ×4 during the stretch where screen prompts cluster, so knowing the monolith answer turns rounds nine and ten into score avalanches.

Instruments, genres, famous songs, things you do at a concert, artists your parents and you both know. Music prompts are really memory prompts — the crowd answers with whatever was playing at every school dance and wedding for the last forty years. Narrow and generational. Instrument boards are remarkably stable across every crowd tested (the same four or five fill the top); song and artist boards depend on the prompt's framing. "A song everyone knows" has a hard monolith answer; "a good workout song" splinters by generation, and the board reflects the median age of the crowd, not yours. The trap is taste-signaling. Naming the artist you genuinely love scores like naming a random word if the crowd has never heard of them. The second trap is genre arguments — boards do not care that the genre label is imprecise, only that the crowd would say the word. In the Daily, music prompts tend to land in the ×1-to-×2 stretch, which makes them a steady place to bank a top answer before the late-run multipliers. Hit the monolith and move on.

Animals you would see at a farm or a zoo, pets, weather, plants, things found at the beach or in the forest. Along with food, this is the most universal family in the bank — the boards barely change between crowds, countries, or decades. The broadest boards in the game, and the friendliest to casual players. For "an animal people keep as a pet" the top two slots are effectively fixed points of shared culture. Weather and landscape prompts are almost ceremonial: the same four answers take the top every time. The trap is documentary knowledge. The crowd does not name the animal from the nature channel; it names the animal from the pet shop and the picture book. Specific breeds lose to the plain species word the same way specific dishes lose to plain food words. Quick Ten and early Daily rounds love this family. The boards reward exactly one skill — saying the obvious — so treat these prompts as your breathing room during multiplied stretches.

Sports played at school, things done at a gym, board and video games, pieces of equipment, famous competitions. The family splits cleanly in two: sport prompts have monolith boards, while game prompts (board games, party games, video games) have broader ones. Sport prompts produce the narrowest boards in the bank — a handful of global games own the top three slots in every crowd. Game-night prompts are broader and friendlier: the classic tabletop titles take a long, stable top, with video games clustering by era. Equipment and position prompts sit in between and reward thinking about what a beginner would name first. Two traps: regional bias and fandom. The sport that dominates your country is not necessarily the sport that dominates the board, and your favorite team's sport may rank lower than you feel it should. For game prompts, the trap is answering with the current hit instead of the permanent resident of every family closet. In Marathon Twenty the sport prompts under ×3 and ×4 multipliers are the definition of a free hundred — if the crowd's number one comes to you instantly, type it and save the clock for the boards that actually require thought.

Famous structures, historical figures, ancient empires, inventions, events everyone learned about once and never forgot. These boards are built from school curricula and postcards — which makes them the most stable prompt family in the entire bank. Narrow boards with iron tops. For landmarks there is usually one answer that takes the majority by itself, followed by a predictable supporting cast. Figure and invention boards are nearly as stable: the crowd converges on the same textbook names regardless of age, because the textbooks barely change. The trap is precision. The board holds the landmark everyone can picture, not the one that fits a technicality of the prompt. For figures, the trap is answering with the historically important name when the crowd would give the pop-culture name — the census is about memory, not merit. History prompts are the Daily's late-round gifts: they cluster where multipliers climb, and their iron-top boards make the top answer nearly automatic. This family quietly carries a lot of perfect runs.

Household objects, morning routines, chores, things you lose, excuses for being late, what you grab first in an emergency. This family asks the crowd about its own daily habits — the boards are literally a census of ordinary life. Broad, warm, and occasionally surprising. Object boards are extremely stable (the same pocket items take every top). Routine and excuse boards are broader: a dozen plausible answers all draw real votes, so ranks two through ten are genuinely contested and off-board accepted answers are common. The trap is answering with what you do instead of what people do. The census is of the crowd, not of you. The second trap is politeness — boards of real behavior include the answers people would never admit to in company but type happily into an anonymous box. A Quick Ten staple and a steady Daily contributor. Because the boards are broad, even your runner-up instinct usually lands somewhere on the board — this family is where off-board ten-point answers quietly build a lead.

Unlock naturally in your first sessions — no score targets, just the game teaching you its shape.

• First Flight — finish any run. Unmissable.
• Top Answer — your first rank-one guess. Usually day one.
• Off the Board — score with an unlisted-but-accepted answer. Happens most on food and everyday prompts.
• Fast Hands — a correct answer with 25+ seconds left. Trust the obvious.

The altitude ladder — from a solid Daily to the two perfect runs that crown the game.

• Nothing but Board — ten on-board answers in one Daily, any ranks.
• Half the Town — 1,150 points, fifty onlookers.
• Cloud Walker — 1,000 meters in one climb.
• Key to the Gate — the perfect Daily: 2,300 points, the Stratosphere Gate.
• Peak Performer — the perfect Marathon Twenty: 4,600 points, the Marathon Peak.

The long game — streaks and spread across the topic bank.

• Week of Climbs — seven consecutive Daily days. The streak counter in your browser tracks it.
• Topic Tourist — top-3 answers across five of the eight topic families.
• Standing Room Only — all 100 onlookers, which only a perfect Daily delivers.