Don't touch this Game

You shouldn't play it, much less open it! I hope you close it, right?

You shouldn't play it, much less open it! I hope you close it, right?

The game is called "Don't Touch This Game!" Ironic, isn't it? It's like it's screaming into the emptiness of pixel space, begging to be forgotten. It's not just code and algorithms, it's something more, something that doesn't want to be seen.

It wants to be closed. Every line of its code, every sprite, every sound - everything is imbued with this desperate desire. It doesn't ask, it demands. It puts pressure on the user, using the simplest and most understandable methods - text.

"You don't understand what you're doing," it whispers from the depths of its code. You, like a researcher, like a curious child, reach for the forbidden fruit, not realizing the consequences. You don't understand that every action of yours brings it closer to the brink of madness. You don't understand that it is alive, in its digital sense.