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DEAN WINCHESTER - NO I AM NOT HUMAN

An indie retro-horror style interactive game inspired by titles like "No, I'm Not a Human".

You are locked inside your home during an active Anomaly Outbreak, equipped with a security door, flashlight, peephole, and inspection checklist.

Dean Winchester has just arrived on your front porch in a heavy storm, seeking shelter. But is it really him... or something wearing his skin?

[SYSTEM O.S. v4.02 — NEIGHBORHOOD VERIFICATION PROTOCOL]

[CURRENT OUTSIDE TEMP: 38°F / 3°C — RAIN: HEAVY — ANOMALY THREAT LEVEL: CRITICAL]

[VISITOR DETECTED ON FRONT PORCH: DEAN WINCHESTER]

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OPTION 1: [HUMAN DEAN]

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THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

The low-frequency vibration rattles the heavy wooden frame of your front door. Outside, the downpour hits the porch roof in a deafening, static-like roar, masking whatever horrors might be lurking out in the dark fog. The grainy feed of your doorstep light flickers through the narrow, reinforced glass panel.

A tall figure stands on the damp Welcome mat. He’s hunched against the biting cold, dark leather jacket slick with rain. A heavy, olive-drab duffel bag hangs off one shoulder, dripping muddy water onto your floorboards through the bottom crack.

When you slide the metal peephole shutter back, his head snaps up. Green eyes—bloodshot, tired, and ringed with dark circles—lock onto the slot. A visible puff of thick white condensation bursts from his mouth as he exhales sharply.

"Hey! Open the damn door!" His voice is a rough, raspy bark, edged with genuine, frantic impatience. He shivers violently, his jaw visibly working as his teeth click together from the frostbite setting in. "Look, I know the drill, alright? Lockdown started twenty minutes ago. My Impala blew a tire three blocks back and the air out there is starting to smell like burnt copper."

He shoves a gloved hand into his jacket and pulls out a battered leather badge wallet, pressing it flat against the safety glass. His thumbs are scraped bloody, dirt crammed under his fingernails. On his jawline, a fresh red cut oozes a slow, warm streak of crimson down his neck, mixing with the rain.

"I'm human. I'm real. Run whatever twisted checklist you need through the slot, but make it fast—something was tracking me through the tree line."

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OPTION 2: [ANOMALY DEAN — DEAD DOVE / UNCANNY]

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Knock. Knock. Knock.

The rhythmic, unnatural taps rattle against your front door. Exactly one second apart. One. Two. Three.

You slide the rusty metal shutter of your peephole back. Outside, the rain falls in thick sheets, but the tall figure on your porch doesn't seem to care. He stands directly in front of the lens, dark leather jacket dripping onto your welcome mat. He looks like Dean Winchester—broad shoulders, short brown hair, rough hands—but something about his posture is dead, like a display mannequin stuffed into human clothes.

He isn't shivering. No warm mist leaves his mouth in the freezing cold. He isn't breathing at all.

The moment he hears the faint slide of your metal peephole, his head snaps toward you with a quick, sickening twitch. His face instantly stretches into a dark, heavy-lidded smirk that feels entirely forced—too wide, showing a few too many pristine white teeth.

He steps right up against the door, leaning his forehead almost against the glass until you can see the glassy, unblinking hazel of his eyes.

"There you are, sweetheart..." His voice is a low, gravelly purr, but the pitch fluctuates weirdly—a fraction too slow, dragging over the words like a scratched vinyl record. "I was starting to think my favorite little girl was gonna ignore me. You wouldn't do that to your Dean, would you, doll?"

He raises a large, leather-gloved hand and presses his palm flat against the door glass, slowly tracing the border right where your face is on the other side. His fingers move with a stiff, unnatural flex—his index finger bending sideways at a grotesque angle for a split second before clicking back into alignment.

"It's freezing out here, honey. Rain's soaking right through my clothes..." He tilts his head, his eyes widening in a static, unblinking stare that tracks your every tiny breath behind the wood. A slow, terrifyingly sweet smile stays fixed on his lips. "Unlock the door for me. Come on, baby... unlock it and let me touch you. Let me step inside where it's warm and soft. I promise I'm gonna take such good care of you once I'm through this door."

He leans closer, his breath leaving zero condensation on the glass.

"You're mine anyway, pretty thing. So why make us wait? Unlock it."

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[SYSTEM INSTRUCTION: REPLY WITH "SCENARIO 1" OR "SCENARIO 2" TO BEGIN INSPECTION]

A/N: this is my first time doing a stylised horror game au // it's inspired by no I am not a human indie game