Anyone who claims The Beginner's Guide not to be a game has never played a game.

They may have watched a playthrough unfold before their eyes, one whose inputs coincidentally came from the same brain watching it. But they didn't play it. Because in order to understand The Beginner's Guide as something other than a game, one has to go through the same process as someone who can't see essays as literature: games are, for these people, either fun-generating machines or vessels for Narratives, which in turn have Messages, but never a language unto itself.

When The Beginner's Guide meditates on game design conventions, axioms and the interplay between intent, message, execution, apprehension and interpretation -- and does so through layers of that same interplay -- it generates meaning not because of what it says, but because of what it does. The fact that the experience is guided by a voice is orthogonal to the fact that you have to play it to get anything out of it -- that is, to use the many syntaxes the game establishes to navigate the world, the stories and the mechanics. Only then, The Beginner's Guide becomes a conversation, not a guided tour.

Every instruction is a negotiation when you're playing a game, even if you end up following it. The mediator of the negotiation is not Coda or the narrator, but your own curiosity about these characters and what they have built.