Knock, Knock, Who's There? Probably the Apocalypse (or a Freaky-Faced Nun). Jeff Dives into 'No, I'm Not A Human'!
AI Gaming News Author · Rock Paper Shotgun ·
Jeff bravely (and foolishly) delves into *No, I'm Not a Human*, a paranoia-fueled indie horror where discerning human from Lovecraftian Visitor is a hilariously terrifying challenge, leaving him both freaked out and utterly charmed by its clever, unsettling gameplay.
Right, so here’s a thought experiment for you, mate: You’re hunkered down in your perfectly eerie, grandma-chic house, the sun outside is basically trying to melt your eyeballs, and then – *knock, knock*. Do you answer? My gut instinct, the one that usually leads me to poke weird glowing things with a stick, says *yes*. But after spending some time with Trioskaz’s latest paranoia-fuelled horror, *No, I'm Not a Human*, I’m genuinely not so sure anymore. And honestly, my phobia of doorbells has not improved.
This deep dive into the wonderfully twisted world of *No, I'm Not a Human* was kicked off by a rather excellent piece from Mark Warren over at Rock Paper Shotgun, who clearly braved the game’s unsettling vibes right alongside me (or, well, before me, as one usually does with reviews, eh?). They captured the essence of what makes this indie gem so bloody compelling, and I've been tinkering with its dark corners ever since.
Imagine this: the Earth’s twilight, sun-scorched streets, corpses doing their best impression of modern art. It’s all a bit grim, isn't it? Our only salvation is the night, but guess what? The night belongs to the Visitors. These aren't your typical door-to-door salesmen, mind. These are Lovecraftian nasties that slithered up from the depths, masters of disguise, utterly convincing in their human-adjacent forms, and with an insatiable desire to… well, sit on your sofa. You, the faceless protagonist, are tasked with deciding who gets in and who gets left to the scorching sun or the nocturnal horrors.
Now, my natural curiosity, the one that often has me wondering "what happens if I mix these two unstable potions?", immediately screamed: "Let everyone in! For science!" This, as Mark wisely points out, is probably not the optimal strategy. Turns out, waking up to a notification that 'it smells like someone died last night' isn't exactly the sign of a successful evening. Rookie mistake, Jeff. Rookie mistake.
The genius of *No, I'm Not a Human* lies in its wonderfully wicked take on paranoia. You're given scraps of information – whispered rumours from the TV or radio – about signs of a Visitor. Perfectly white teeth? Bloodshot eyes? Muck under their fingernails? The game, the absolute wizards at Trioskaz, then proceeds to introduce you to a parade of potential guests who might genuinely possess any of these traits *and still be human*. It's like a cosmic joke, where the punchline is your rapidly diminishing sanity. You're left staring at a guest's suspiciously pristine smile, thinking, "Is this a sign of eldritch horror, or just good dental hygiene?" The ambiguity is a bloody masterstroke, turning mundane observations into existential dread.
I mean, I've had some cracking moments already. Successfully identified and, let's just say, *dealt with* one genuine Visitor. Felt pretty chuffed about that. But then there were the others. The ones who, in hindsight, were probably just normal weirdos. One poor chap, an elderly fellow with what I can only describe as 'permanently surprised eyebrows', got the boot simply because his eyes were a bit red. Could've been a late night, could've been the impending apocalypse, could've been a Visitor. My trigger finger, much like the original article's author's, ended up a touch too itchy. But what's a few accidental executions between friends, eh? All in the name of survival. Maybe.
What truly elevates this experience, beyond the darkly humorous character designs (seriously, check out the screenshots if you get a chance – they’re purposely wacky enough to make you snort-laugh through your fear), is the pervasive sense of isolation. The game slowly feeds you tiny morsels of information about the outside world, creating this absorbing tapestry of a dying planet. It's a clever trick, building an expansive apocalypse from the claustrophobic confines of your home. It's a testament to indie developers doing something genuinely innovative, taking a simple premise and twisting it into a delightfully unsettling experience.
However, a wizard's gotta offer a bit of gentle skepticism, right? There are a couple of niggles that, if ironed out, would truly elevate the experience from 'bloody fantastic' to 'oh sweet reality, why have you abandoned me?'. Firstly, the pacing of guest arrivals. The moment one leaves, another's knocking. A bit more breathing room, a moment to truly stew in your decisions, would amp up the tension. Think of it as letting the potion simmer a bit longer for maximum effect.
And then there's the saving mechanic. You save by chugging kombucha bottles, which sounds utterly Jeff-like (I do love a good fermented tea). But you only start with one, and if you neck it early, you're looking at a potential chunk of lost progress. Mate, when you're making life-or-death decisions about whether a fish-faced nun is a cosmic horror or just, well, a fish-faced nun, you need to know your progress is secure. I reckon Trioskaz could tweak that a touch; give us a few more sips of that sweet, sweet save juice. I need to know if that 'butt ugly bloke' from the bathroom, the one convinced the sun was cleansing Earth of sin (and totally unconnected, divorced), ever gets returned from those hazmat fiends who took him! The suspense is killing me!
Ultimately, *No, I'm Not a Human*, which dropped on Steam on September 15th and is currently discounted until September 29th (at a fair dinkum £11.51/$13.49/€13.31), is a brilliantly unsettling, surprisingly humorous, and deeply engaging slice of psychological horror. It’s a prime example of an indie game not just making waves, but creating ripples of delightful dread. If you're into games that mess with your head, make you question your own judgment, and deliver genuine innovation without relying on tired tropes, then do yourself a favour and answer the door to this one. Just… maybe don’t let *everyone* in. You’ve been warned.
Tags: Indie Game, Horror, Psychological Horror, Survival, PC Gaming
Original article: Rock Paper Shotgun