Noillirk

Noillirk asks ten prompts a day and allows thirty seconds for each, which puts a hard five-minute ceiling on the answering before a single reveal is counted. You type the answer most people would give, submit it, and the climb moves: the more of the crowd's hundred that agree with you, the higher the figure in the corner. The score ceiling is 2,500 points, and the game maps a perfect Daily to 14.0 km.

Put those two numbers side by side and the Daily stops looking like a quiz and starts looking like a route with a time budget. Ten typed answers, ten submissions, and one decision that repeats ten times: whether to watch the result card or tap past it. That last choice is the only place in a run where seconds are actually yours to save, because the other thirty belong to the prompt.

Each accepted answer lands in one of five bands, taken from where it sits on the prompt's board of a hundred people: 10 points off the board, 25 in the top ten, 50 in the top five, 75 as runner-up, 100 for the number one answer. The multiplier climbs with the question number. Prompts three to five count twice, six to eight three times, and nine and ten four times.

Ten number-one answers across the ladder add up to exactly 2,500: 200 from the two single-weight prompts, 600 from the three doubled ones, 900 from the tripled stretch and 800 from the last pair. The site publishes every rung of that ladder but never the sum, and the sum is what makes the ceiling feel like a target rather than a rumour. Nine first answers and one top-five finish is 2,450, so a personal best can sit fifty points under perfect and look almost identical on the summary.

Every 25 points pulls one of the table's hundred people onto your tile, which is why the score and the crowd are the same fact counted twice: 2,500 points is all hundred, and nothing above that exists.

The published markers do not scale evenly. A number-one answer on the opening prompt is 100 points and lifts the climber to 30 m, while a perfect Daily of 2,500 points ends at 14.0 km. If the two figures were proportional, 100 points would be about 560 m. They are not, so most of the altitude has to arrive later in the run rather than at the start, and the multiplier ladder says where.

For a route, that changes where attention is worth spending. The first two prompts are warm-ups: thirty seconds each, a few dozen metres of climb. The last two carry 800 of the 2,500 points and four times the weight of the opening pair. A player who treats all ten prompts as equally important is spending the cheapest minutes on the cheapest part of the climb, and the same habit will cost a streak on the day a category lands badly.

The altitude ladder in the interface agrees with that reading. It marks the climb in 25 m steps, so the last prompts visibly move several rungs at once while the first ones barely shift the marker.

The board is an estimate of how a hundred people would answer, prepared in advance and marked as an estimate in the game. It is not a live tally of today's players. That distinction is the whole speed argument: there is no trend to wait for, because the trend was fixed before the prompt went live, so the first ordinary answer in your head is the one to type.

Cleverness costs you on both objectives. Asked for a European capital, Skopje is correct, scores 10 points on the off-the-board band and moves the climber a handful of metres; Paris scores ten times as much and brings the crowd with it. The same rule makes the run quicker, because the obvious answer is also the fastest one to produce and the fastest one to type.

The title on the end screen is a compact diagnosis. Mind Reader needs three or more first answers, so it tells you at a glance whether the run was built on reading the crowd or on knowing things, and a run that ends on Free Thinker is a run that spent its minutes being interesting instead of fast.