Split Fiction – A Genre-Defying Masterpiece
A Game of the Year-winning title is a hard act to follow, and all eyes were always going to be on Hazelight Studios after the incredible success that was 2021’s It Takes Two. The studio has proven itself to be a master of the co-operative experience, consistently balancing narrative depth with gameplay innovation in a manner rarely matched by other titles. Their games have dealt with self-described themes of sorrow (Brothers: A Tale of Two Sons), trust (A Way Out), and collaboration (It Takes Two) and with their latest title, Split Fiction, they’re taking on friendship – alongside all the darkness and light of trauma and healing, and a strong stance on generative AI. Simply, Split Fiction is one of the most ambitious games I’ve ever played when it comes to sheer depth of experience, and in doing what they do best, Hazelight have created a masterpiece.
As a lifelong writing nerd who likes to occasionally cry over the power of female friendship, the premise of Split Fiction is particularly appealing to me. Mio and Zoe are two aspiring writers who, in attempting to chase a publishing deal, end up stuck in a series of simulations generated by a machine designed to steal their ideas instead. Split Fiction isn’t incredibly subtle in its overarching plot being a warning of the dangers and predatory nature of generative AI, and in that signposting that proudly, it won me over from the get-go. Rader Industries – the almost-immediately sinister company promising said publishing deal – is headed up by a tantrum-prone “visionary” “tech genius” CEO who will stop at nothing to ensure the success of his machine, and… you can see how the premise is frighteningly plausible.
Mio and Zoe are two very different women whose interests and inspirations lie in vastly different genres and themes. Mio, whose stories of robots, mechs, futuristic tech and space disasters have labelled her firmly as a science-fiction writer, is tough, reserved, and initially resistant to the bright and fantastical worlds and personality of Zoe, whose stories of dragons and shapeshifters are rooted in fantasy tropes. But, the theme of the game is friendship – and as they traverse each others’ stories and get to learn more about the minds that created these worlds, they’re forced to connect and collaborate not only to escape the awful genAI machine, but also to discover more about themselves.
This game goes deep. Writing is a deeply personal exercise, and Split Fiction leans heavily into the idea that a writer puts a little piece of themself into every story. Even the most ridiculous, bombastic ideas have to be inspired by something – and every single detail in every one of the stories the protagonists traverse feels considered. By positioning them as the creators of the worlds you’re traversing, Hazelight have managed to create protagonists who not only live out their hero’s journeys, but who have mapped out those journeys for themselves. It’s one thing to see someone overcome obstacles, but another to see the obstacles they would set out for themselves to overcome in a fictional world. The way they provide commentary on their own worlds, and on each others’, then provides an extra layer of depth that makes them both relatable and realistic – their souls are bared. They’re fictional characters that somehow felt like they were being vulnerable with me, and it was impossible not to come out the other side loving them and the relationship they forged.
But the true accomplishment of Split Fiction is that not only does it have such narrative depth, but that depth is supplemented by some of the most varied and innovative gameplay I’ve ever seen. Each new story comes with a host of new mechanics, with no particular sequence outstaying its welcome. Through the course of Mio’s sci-fi segments you’ll control drones, wear jetpacks, hover-snow-board in space, and fight giant mechs with laser guns. Zoe’s fantasy worlds turn the two into shapeshifters, dragon riders, magic users and kite racers. Sometimes, you’ll enter a segment that’ll give you two new mechanics to use at once, and even if you’re only using them for a short period of time, they’ll be so well-developed that they might as well be full game mechanics. Most of the time, Mio and Zoe will also have different powers to navigate through a particular section, and you’ll spend just as much time figuring out how to use your powers in conjunction with your partner as you will finding fun ways to use them to just mess around in the world alone.
Throughout the larger worlds, you’ll encounter ‘side stories’ – unfinished ideas from Mio and Zoe’s past that act as mini levels with their own contained design and mechanics. While some of these just build on the main worlds, some of them are also seriously strange. I’ve been writing since I was a kid, and I am here to tell you that kids write some weird shit – so it makes total sense that some of the pair’s early stories are bordering on the surreal. At one point, in one of Zoe’s early works, I was a sausage. What happened next… I’ll be thinking about for the rest of my life.
There’s no question that the best way to experience this game is in local co-op, playing in split screen next to somebody on the couch. I played through Split Fiction with one of my long-time best friends (her review, for the record, was that this game “did the most and best a game has ever done”, which is really accurate and succinct enough that it should have just been my review) and being able to glance over at her screen and see what was different for her added a whole new level of discovery to every puzzle. This game requires a lot of communication, but even when it wasn’t required, I found myself wanting to communicate about whatever cool weird thing I’d found by venturing slightly off course in one of the game’s levels. There’s stuff to find and share everywhere, and sharing it is half the fun. There were also moments of pure chaos where I wanted to look over at her side of the screen properly, because it was clear that what she was doing in that moment was entirely different to what I was doing, but I had my own job to focus on. So instead, while I was trying not to crash our vehicle, all I could hear was “BUT WHERE ARE THE GIRAFFES?!” in a level that did not previously, to my knowledge, involve anything close to giraffes. Truly, both players will have their own experience, even when sitting in a room together.
It’s hard to describe exactly why Split Fiction is a masterpiece without turning this into a 5000 word essay about some of the themes it explores, but doing that would ruin the experience. So instead, I’ll simply say that to me, there was never a moment where I wasn’t enchanted, or excited to know what came next. The worlds, though linear, felt expansive, and so the minds of the characters they came from felt expansive too. The tale of a fast-blossoming friendship born out of both shared trauma and a willingness to understand each other was expertly navigated by the narrative and its themes. The soundtrack is varied and perfectly tailored to each gameplay sequence, and played a key part in several ‘wow’ moments that had me catching myself smiling, or welling up.
And most importantly, it was amazing to be able to share this experience with a friend. It’s rare that a story this nuanced can be experienced co-operatively in a game, particularly in a way that feels equal between the participants. But we were truly partners in this game. We did this together, as Mio and Zoe did, and it added a layer to the time spent playing this game that makes it all the more unforgettable. It was something we shared, and that brought us closer, and that proved how powerful games can be as a medium for connection.
Am I crying over the power of female friendship again now? Maybe.
Player 2 reviewed Split Fiction on Playstation 5 using a code kindly provided by EA.
