No, I’m Not a Human review — are you alone?

Do you have perfect white teeth? Red eyes? Dirt under your fingernails? If you answered yes to any of those questions, stay alert! You may be a danger to yourself and others. These are signs that you are a Visitor, and you should report immediately to your nearest FEMA agent. And please remember not to go out during the day, it’s too hot for anything to survive. Stay inside. It’s safe. Feel free to invite guests in need, but make sure they’re not one of them. 

No, I’m Not a Human is a narrative horror/light investigation game, kind of like if Papers, Please had you let people into Arstotzka based on whether they smell vaguely Arstotzkan. The premise is twofold: first, the sun might be about to explode, so it’s impossible to set foot outside during the day lest you get fried alive. Second, mysterious beings known as Visitors have appeared and are causing paranoia due to their ability to mimic the appearance of humans. This unenviable combo has resulted in you, the unnamed player character, holing up in your quaint home, trying to get through each torturous day. 

You won’t make it alone, though. Each night, people will knock knock knock at your door and will usually ask to be let in. Some are ready with a sob story, some seem far too calm given the circumstances, and others have gone mad with fear and desperation. You can let them in, or you can leave them to brave the scorching day and the Visitors of the night. First impressions are everything, and you have to make a hasty decision based on little information. 

Gameplay is divided into two phases, alternating over the course of 14 days: at night, you’ll choose who to let in. During the day, you’ll speak to your guests, listening to their (often miserable) stories. You’ll also have the opportunity to test your guests - anyone you let in may be a Visitor, and if you watch the news each morning, you’ll gain more and more “knowledge” on how to identify these impolite imposters. 

Consequences are not often immediate - or discernible at all - which is one of the game’s two double-edged mechanics. For the duration of my first playthrough, I made nearly all major decisions on a whim with little to no understanding of how my actions may affect my current situation. There were mornings where I found one of my guests gone, a pile of garbage bags in their place - does that mean they were killed by a Visitor in the room with them? Or just in the house? Did they just up and leave? There were even times where I failed to notice a missing guest; they come and go so frequently. I came to understand that my house had a higher turnover rate than a Starbucks. 

The lack of obvious action and reaction has its benefits, though. The game has an unpredictability that endures until the final day, accompanied by an ever-present sense of unease. Some guests come with requests to be fulfilled, requiring you to let in or ignore certain future guests in favour of some mysterious future benefit. My favourite of these rewards was the game’s sole instance of wholesomeness: I received a cute 3D-modeled cat to keep me company, a pleasant oddity when nearly every other character is a 2D Junji Ito-esque monstrosity, human or not. 

When it comes to Visitor criteria, the issues are apparent immediately. Each new piece of supposed “evidence”, be it red eyes or weird ears or a nasty armpit rash, is something that a real human could easily possess. You only get a few chances to check your guests each day, so you will receive both limited and unreliable information that you will then need to somehow parlay into a final decision. 

Herein lies the game’s second double-edged sword - the information given is too inconclusive, leaving you fumbling in the dark when it comes time to pull the trigger. You’re equipped with a gun to dispose of accused Visitors, yet I found myself hesitant to unload on more than a handful of guests on my first playthrough. Most guests are written with authentic-feeling tales of extreme hardship; I shuddered at the thought of making a mistake and rendering their efforts to reach safety worthless. Of the three I shot, I was correct about the Visitor status of two of them. I couldn’t tell you what made them stand out other than…vibes? I’m sure I could start to see a pattern amongst the madness on subsequent playthroughs, though the prospect of completing the game all over again is daunting and unattractive. The paranoia you invariably feel is compelling, but without any inkling of certainty, I ended up feeling more befuddled than afraid.

For a relatively short experience, it’s upsetting to report that NINAH woefully outstays its welcome. Though the guest interactions remain unique each day, they all begin to blur together due to the sheer amount of them. You’ll answer the door for about 3-5 people each night, each with some kind of grotesque facial feature that makes them stand out visually - if you’re going to play this game, it should be for the phenomenal character art first and foremost. It didn’t take long for me to start to dread the day and pray for night; the guests’ stories were intriguing at first but wore thin with their vague traumas and cryptic nihilistic nonsense. It eventually felt like speaking to them was an obligation, like making small talk with a roommate you don’t know all that well. 

The story as a whole is a lot better at setting up than driving anything home. As soon as you start, you’ll understand that the game has ideas about paranoia, and how humans tend to turn on each other as soon as they get the chance. Deeper in, you may start to pick up on some fascistic themes: FEMA has taken on the nasty habit of snatching away anyone it deems to be suspicious, with no plans to return the kidnapped innocents. The government seems to have turned the apocalypse into opportunity…but to what end? I struggled to mine the narrative for any meat; frustratingly, it only presented me with fancy serving trays. The ending I initially got didn’t help, as it served to wrap up absolutely nothing. The other normal endings are equally unsatisfying; all the interesting conclusions are relegated to secret endings that I would never have had the patience to find on my own. 

No, I’m Not a Human is the kind of game that makes for an excellent demo, but fails to capitalize on what’s established in its opening hour. The crushingly grim mood and uncanny visuals are worth experiencing, but its opaque mechanics are better at creating confusion than intrigue. With a narrower scope and a more specific narrative, No I’m Not a Human could have been a prime candidate for a cult classic.