That’s Not My Neighbor Review (PC)

Papers, Please and I Am on Observation Duty finally have their work cut out for them with the arrival of That’s Not My Neighbor—a sci-fi social deduction game that minces peculiar credentials with unruly doppelgängers. Personally, I’m overjoyed over the fact that the deduction field is receiving fresh applicants, for it is, in all honesty, a genre that has the power to quell most psychological horrors. The question is, how does That’s Not My Neighbor stack up against other supernatural thrillers on the market? Let’s talk.

That’s Not My Neighbor describes itself as a job simulator — which, in all fairness, it is. Or at least, it is, in that you spend most of your time manually checking credentials, spotting minor differences, and giving the occasional supernatural vessel a stern look to assess whether or not they’re who they claim to be, of if they’re a doppelgänger with an ulterior motive. Like Papers, Please, the idea is simple: check in the individuals who appear at your door, and make a decision on whether or not to grant them passage. In this world, however, you don’t work in border control; you supervise the front desk in an apartment complex, and you make vital decisions based on the credentials that sprout up in your hands.

Behind its vague plot—a story that, for some reason, opts to leave out a lot of the finer details about the world’s sudden surge in doppelgänger activity—That’s Not My Neighbor serves as a simple deduction game with a supernatural and seemingly eerie twist. As the curator of keys and the judge, jury and executioner of an odd apartment complex, you find yourself with a daunting challenge: separating the real humans from those who actively pretend to be whoever they are on their ID. In most cases, you have a good amount to work with, to the point where you can whip out the green stamp and send people on their way. But in other instances, you find yourself with a broader problem—a challenge that requires you to carefully evaluate their presence, their motive, and how their actions will affect the ending.

If you’re familiar with observation games like Who’s at the Door? and Papers, Please, then a lot of these tasks might seem trivial to you. And I suppose, to an extent, That’s Not My Neighbor isn’t all that difficult. That is, of course, if you’re playing the Arcade Mode, which serves as a self-contained experience in which your primary objective is to check IDs and spot the minor errors in the text, symbols, and expressions. In Nightmare—a mode that is unlocked later in the game—you have a little more to juggle, including card-based mini-games, eccentric requests, and trickier Lovecraftian characters. That said, the point of the game remains the same throughout: analyze details, and choose to grant residents access to the building or leave them out to hang.

That’s Not My Neighbor has light specks of horror spread throughout its world. And when I say light, I mean laughably reminiscent of an old-school Flash game. Granted, it isn’t a naturally terrifying game, nor is it in possession of a great deal of well-timed jump scares. It’s creepy, if anything, in that it presents you with peculiar characters and grotesque details, like flesh being torn from a scalp, for example. But other than that, That’s Not My Neighbor isn’t what you would refer to as bone-shatteringly horrifying. Or at least, it isn’t on the same level as Who’s at the Door? But that’s a whole other ballgame and aesthetic.

To add insult to injury, That’s Not My Neighbor doesn’t have much of a plot for you to prod at. In Arcade Mode, for example, you essentially have a series of seemingly unrelated characters, a simple by-the-numbers challenge to work out, and a similar outcome to unravel for each individual. As there are no consequences for each miscalculation, at no point are you ever made to feel the weight of your choices. If you make a mistake or accidentally kill the wrong person, for instance, then the game continues to play out in a similar way. The ending may change ever so slightly, but it doesn’t provide much context on how you received the result.

Thanks to its Nightmare Mode and decently sized roster of characters, That’s Not My Neighbor can still be a lot of fun to carve through. Of course, the novelty eventually wears thin after so many applicants, and the routine of processing credentials does eventually become a little repetitive and monotonous. That being said, the game does a pretty solid job of holding your attention for the duration of the initial session with some interesting characters and some intriguing moments. Granted, it isn’t a difficult game, but it does give your eyes a good workout, and I guess that counts for a lot here.

While That’s Not My Neighbor isn’t quite the be all, end all of observation horrors, it is a solid alternative that might just suit your interests. It might lack a proper story mode and enough quality incentives to coerce you to reprise the role of doorman for a second shift, but to give credit where it’s due, it does make for an entertaining indie. It’s just a shame that it lacks the depth and technical complexity of a full-fledged horror.

Verdict

That’s Not My Neighbor is a bit like a Flash game: ugly, mechanically dense, and about as aesthetically  appealing as a dodo bird on a mound of fecal matter. And yet, it delivers a nostalgic experience that you just can’t help but feel weirdly connected to. Sure, it’s a little barebones and without the full weight of a rich story-driven observation game. But, to give credit where it’s due, it does check a lot of the right boxes. Is it a brilliant game? Not at all, no. However, it is one that you might just enjoy under the right conditions — like at a social gathering, for example.

While it’s no secret that observation games are a dime a dozen in this day and age, That’s Not My Neighbor does find its place on the spectrum as a fairly decent representative for the genre. Again, it isn’t a perfect game, and it does fall short in terms of complexity and longevity. But, with all of the above said, I will say this: it’s a lot better than the shovelware that you spot on the market. Count your blessings, neighbors.