No, I’m Not a Human Review (PC)

Never in all my life have I felt so afraid to take a peek beyond the curtain to witness the end of civilization. Outside, the hills are alight, and the corpses are piling up by the thousands. The world as we know it is on its knees, and it’s giving birth to a new kind of species—the Visitors, who look like us, act like us, and even talk like us. But, they are not human; they are not of our kind. With this, I have a decision to make: to let the silhouette into my home, or to banish them before they unleash their true intentions. The only issue is, I don’t know who’s a Visitor and who’s human. Do I play the beaming optimist, or do I settle for being a paranoid pessimist?

When dawn comes a-knocking in No, I’m Not a Human, the remnants of civilization fumble, and the unkept flames continue to scorch the earth. But when night falls, the Visitors come out to engage with their surroundings and those who keep to the solitude of their homes. And that’s precisely where you wind up in this tale: as a resident in a post-apocalyptic world, burrowed deep in the comfort of your own home and on the lookout for subtle signs that the universe may or may not be fostering a much, much darker secret. With that, your goal is to identify the visitors who appear at your door, listen to their stories, and either help or, in worst case scenarios, kill the doppelgängers before they kill you. Think Guess Who? — but with a sombre tone and a few sinister skin suits.

Who’s There?

If you’re vaguely familiar with Who’s at the Door? or, generally speaking, most anomaly-hunting deduction games, for that matter, then you ought to have a rough idea of how No, I’m Not a Human plays its cards. If not, then be sure to read on for a clearer picture.

No, I’m Not a Human adds its own twist to the classic anomaly-hunting formula with a grainy lathering of grotesque characters, sickeningly dated visuals, and analytic mechanics that actively force you to explore way beyond the usual check boxes of a traditional ghost-centric deduction IP. Here, you don’t just spot the subtle changes in the atmosphere to decipher the anomalies; instead, you search for small details in the vacant expressions of your neighbors, the grime in their fingers, or the faint crackles in their teeth. A job that’s much easier said than done, mind you.

The element that sets No, I’m Not a Human apart from its warring kin is its choice-based gameplay. Unlike your ordinary object-finding title, this world requires you to make vital decisions that ultimately influence your Visitors and the acts that shape the future. For example, if you fail to interrogate one of the guests, and if you fail to decipher their true identity, then the chances of them murdering you in your own home suddenly becomes extremely high. It’s your job, then, to ensure that the guests who you accommodate are there to aid you and not, you know, stab you in the back. Again, a lot easier said than done.

Hell or High Water

No, I’m Not a Human thrives in its own capsulated weirdness. Scratch that, it bathes in it. With thanks to its macabre undertones and crossbreed aesthetics, it doesn’t just provide an unusual world for you to live in; it forces you to sit in an uncomfortable position and spectate some of the strangest encounters whilst you mindlessly battle to save the correct guests. It’s a disturbing experience that’s made all the more intense thanks to the way it chooses to portray its characters and setting. To say that it’s anxiety-inducing would be an understatement, we’ll leave it at that.

There’s a huge amount to love about No, I’m Not a Human, just as much as there is to dislike. For the most part, the game plays incredibly well, with fluid animations and transitions there to help segue each Visitor to the meat of the experience—the analytical segments, that is—and to create a seamless experience that flows in a palatable manner. It’s a visually unique experience, too, with its grotesque designs and bleak imagery serving as two peas in a pod for an oddly tense endeavor. I can’t bring myself to complain about any of that; it just feels awfully captivating, even though it does make you feel sick to your stomach.

Verdict

No, I’m Not a Human will continue to in my head rent free until my final days (thanks, CRITICAL REFLEX). For that reason alone, I can’t help but give credit where it’s due. True, it’s a strange game, and it makes me feel both uncomfortable and tense at the same time. But that’s sort of what it strives to capture: an unusual experience that lingers on your mind long after the final Visitor has fled from your hospitable mannerisms. And to be fair, it captures all of this with utmost care and grace, even though it doesn’t aim to glorify the world or paint neighborly people in a positive light. I suppose that’s the edge that it wants to give itself, though.

If it’s a strange game that you want, then honestly, I could think of a dozen or more reasons as to why you should consider dipping your toes into this macabre creation. Although it isn’t the longest game of its kind, it is one that brings a lot of weight with each passing Visitor and social interaction that you engage with over the course of its short but lusciously impactful journey. It’ll make you sweat in fear, as will it make you question each and every spec of dust that lingers on the shoulders of your neighbors’ contorted bodies. But boy, will it leave a lasting impression on you as you traipse through its ominous quarters to make heads or tails of its disturbingly horrific clientele. If that’s enough of an incentive for you, then you ought to consider knocking at this door come midnight.