Real-world inspirations for mental health horror game ‘Numb’

I grew up in Sassari, a city on the Italian island of Sardinia, renowned for its white sand beaches, crystal-clear waters, and ancient historical sites.

Far from the luxury of exclusive resorts and private villas lies an impoverished neighborhood characterized by dilapidated buildings, decaying infrastructure, prevalent drug abuse, high crime rates, and significant discomfort. I was raised in that district.

Fortunately, I never succumbed to addiction or was dragged into a life of petty crime that could have led me to become one of the many Nobodies and Unknowns who contributed to the neighborhood’s notoriety. Growing up, I observed that arrogance and violence were the primary modes of expression for these individuals, and showing even the slightest sign of weakness almost guaranteed becoming their next victim. This is why most people in the neighborhood never openly discuss their personal issues, especially those not related to material concerns. Any discussion of struggles potentially tied to mental health was dismissed, perceived as trivial compared to the physically tangible challenges of living in such a problematic district. “Just don’t think about it,” they advised.

This mindset was so pervasive that many eventually convinced themselves that any negativity in their lives was merely an exaggeration, and that openly discussing their mental health struggles was nothing more than a narcissistic bid for attention rather than a plea for help. Yet, this misguided perception took a toll on people’s lives: many individuals I knew eventually became consumed by drugs, and some even tragically ended their own lives.

After moving out of that neighborhood and being exposed to diverse realities, I realized that I wanted to be able to talk about my problems and that everyone should have the freedom to do so without the pressure of societal norms imposed on them without their consent. Many years later, this realization inspired Numb – Just Don’t Think About It.

Numb – JDTAI critiques those who trivialize the suffering of others and encourages those struggling to confront their challenges head-on and accept their own limits, all within the guise of a minimalistic survival horror game. The horrors faced in Numb – JDTAI are representations of the mental health struggles of everyday life, particularly for neurodivergent individuals. The graphic setting is minimalistic, employing a “1-bit” pixel art style that allows players to focus on the narrative and specific environmental details.

The game environment draws inspiration from the village of Hogeweyk, a clinic in the Netherlands for Alzheimer’s and dementia patients. Here, patients live a “normal” life, largely unaware of being treated, while under the watch of medical personnel disguised as villagers. The village is segmented into areas based on the type of care required; in Numb – JDTAI, this concept is reimagined as a residential building with color-coded apartments and areas. Color coding plays a crucial role in Numb – JDTAI: each apartment and character is marked by a dominant color that metaphorically signifies a specific mental health condition. By paying attention to environmental details and character dialogue, players can discern which condition is represented by a certain color.

The gameplay is also partially influenced by Hogeweyk: one of the therapy methods applied in the village involves aiding patients in creating daily routines to help focus on significant matters and ward off negative thoughts. With the help of my wife, a behavior analyst, I designed moments within Numb – JDTAI  that help the protagonist (and, arguably, the player) to maintain sharp focus—this is why in the game, activities like making the bed, cleaning the dishes, or petting a cat carry equal importance to fighting and surviving against monstrous creatures.

Ultimately, the goal with Numb – JDTAI  is for the player to encompass their everyday struggles: feeling useless, empty, unemotional, dull, and scared, yet simultaneously eager to resolve their conflicts, being careful not to infringe on anyone’s space, including their own. After all, everyone cries their own tears.

Written by Walter Cossu, translated by Giorgio Crosali