No, I'm Not a Human Review - Underlow

There’s a certain detachment that arises from staring death in the face. Watching a car lose control, the occupant fumbling with the brakes as they attempt to contend with a 2-tonne slab of metal designed for ease of travel, aiming directly for your fleshy vessel. The only thing stopping it? A lamppost made of the same material as a Nissan wraps around it, a reminder of how easy it is to lose time to sleep; an anecdote that repeatedly sprang to mind while living through No, I’m Not a Human.

This is the debut commercial title from Eastern European developers Trioskaz: A psychological horror concept which has been making sheer waves since its initial release as a part of the Violent Horror Stories anthology in 2024. A year later, with some bigger and bolder tweaks to the story progression, as well as a publisher pick-up in the form of Critical Reflex, No, I’m Not a Human is set to comfort you in these prying times.

You play as a self-imposed hermit, one who has been closed off from a lot of the outside world, and in some ways, much to their chagrin. This all changes when the sun explodes, bringing with it deathly heatwaves, cataclysmic global suffering, and entities rising from the ground calling themselves “Visitors”. Posing as human beings with history, personality, and opinions, they and others will seek refuge in the form of your home, with you having to choose who to let in, while dealing with the end of the world, together or by yourself.

At night, the door will pound incessantly, a testament to the wood's strength that it doesn’t just fall off the hinges. Look through the peephole, and you’ll see people begging for shelter, explaining why they’re there, and who to look out for. Through the harsh night-vision filter, it’s hard to discern who’s a Visitor or not, so you have to make the judgment call then and there. Saying no cannot be the option every time.

In the daytime, the heat is too harsh to venture outside, so you make yourself comfortable with your new tenants. Find out how they feel, watch TV, and find out that the new agency FEMA has found “sure-fire” ways to spot Visitors. Bloodshot eyes and dirty fingernails could be your monsters in disguise, or they could be a sign of lack of sleep and poor hygiene. It’s up to you to decide whether they stay or go out with a bang, your trusty shotgun proving to be the judge, jury, and executioner.

It’s mechanically sound, and despite a different path being executed, it’s feasible to draw a lot of comparisons to the stressful management of games like This War of Mine or Impact Winter. You are responsible for lives here, and while most will disappear into the night, it’s who you let in and what they bring in with them that can haunt you. Your new best friend for the end of the world could have his time cut short because of your mistakes, and that brings with it new scrutiny.

Indeed, the list of comparisons could stretch for miles if you really searched for it, in what is one of No, I’m Not a Human’s more egregious misgivings. From The Mandela Catalogue to Hauntology, the game will give a sly little reference here or there, which, within its bite-sized framing of characterization, feels off-putting in exactly how much it could be original. I mean, they literally rip a line from Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, and tie it to a central storyline.

It sounds nitpicky, and that is correct, but it’s the kind of execution that can make the player second-guess themselves, and think about how much of the game isn’t paying its own dues. With that in mind, No, I’m Not a Human would have to work pretty bloody hard to carve out its own essence – not only that, but do it with such nuance that its potential to be accused of cribbing is immediately dwindled.

Not only do Trioskaz work wonders to evade such criticisms, but they do it with a passion and fire that makes No, I’m Not a Human an unbelievably horrific narrative to dissect in microcosms. Make no mistake, this isn’t a horror game, but a horror game, a sick little insight into the complete disintegration of a supposedly restrained people. Rules may be what separate us from animals, but the clock plays more than just a bit part.

A lot of the weight comes from the visual design. It’s easy to look at the surreal and crude compositions of the flavorful cast you’ll meet and assume they bring with them jokes and screenshot-worthy out-of-context lines. Take time to read what they’re saying, however, and find that nearly each line is packed with so much emotion, misery, and splendor that it’s hard to say no.

The encounters are randomized, so your mileage may vary in how much zaniness you come across with each playthrough, but of the 4 playthroughs I trawled through, each one had at least one gut-punch. That one character who wasn’t laughing wasn’t painted with a joke in mind, but was human, and therein lies the key. It seems obvious, but the charisma of sympathy that No, I’m Not a Human showcases, even when it’s looking to rip your throat out, is, frankly, miraculous.

There’s a lot to unpack in its writing, which is why this review might feel so scanty. Structurally speaking, a lot of the teething problems from Violent Horror Stories are still here, like missing story beats regarding religion and general politicism. It definitely feels like No, I’m Not a Human wants to grab a loudspeaker and make their case for those subjects, but it’s suffocated by what’s already present and prescient. 

What is present is a legitimate amount of effort put into the management aspect, in spite of its light-footedness. Of the 4 playthroughs, 2 of them were experiments, in which I played the yes man and the dissident, respectively. Both playthroughs ended with severe punishments in mind, so it’s nice to see Trioskaz isn’t allowing an autopilot sense of mind to infect how you interact with No, I’m Not a Human.

Another issue is that this game is sad. Really sad, like, an unfathomably heartbreaking experience that makes Critical Reflex’s other darling Mouthwashing look like an SNL skit, which is why I find some of its twee quirkiness quite bothersome. It doesn’t happen often, but No, I’m Not a Human isn’t as good at tying the room up with a quip as it is at pulling the rug from beneath you, but this can be considered a mutation of traits that people bring with them.

No, I'm Not a Human Review | Final Verdict

No, I’m Not a Human is a game of ironies. Completely removed from pretension, it’s a relay of affirmations and comfort, despite its harrowing presentation of how it looks when the gloves are off. While it may be disappointing to state that this isn’t a horror game in its most blase definition, what lies in store is an unbelievably brilliant depiction of paranoia, disgust, and what it’s like to lose control. Prepare for the worst, and expect the best.

No, I'm Not a Human was reviewed on PC with a copy provided by the publisher over the course of 9 hours of gameplay. All screenshots were taken during the process of review.