Split Fiction Review – It Takes Pew Pew

Unfortunately for me, Split Fiction is the type of game you feel utterly compelled to tell your friends about. It’s the type of game that will have you setting your controller aside to wipe away tears, both of laughter and raw emotion, as well as to call literally everyone in close proximity to come see whatever dark, hilarious, referential, or mind-blowing thing just happened. As such, I’ve spent the better part of the past week impatiently waiting for this embargo to drop–for the second I could talk about it with someone other than the close friend I roped into joining me. In short, Split Fiction is one of the most memorable, brilliant, and spectacular games I’ve ever played. And at long last, I am allowed to tell everyone about it.

With Split Fiction, Hazelight Studios solidifies itself as not only one of the most clever and innovative working studios, but as one eager to grow and utterly devoted to creativity as both an idea and act. Though Hazelight has yet to release anything less than great, it was almost shocking to see how much it had learned from–and improved upon–2021’s critical darling It Takes Two. Levels and environments are vast, gorgeous, and varied; our two protagonists, Mio and Zoe, are full of depth, charm, and personality; the game’s seemingly endless gimmicks and gameplay mechanics, all of which are introduced at far more rapid pace than It Takes Two, are nearly all so fun, brilliant, and tightly designed that they could stand alone; and its writing, plot beats, and overall structure deliver a remarkable story that rappels from heart wrenching, commentative, darkly humorous, and brimming with joy just as fluidly as our heroines grapple-hook between buildings. Though there is a level of cheesiness that coats the game’s overarching story and its primary antagonist, Rader, as a whole Split Fiction is a marvelous game that sets a new benchmark not only for Hazelight, but for co-op experiences as a whole.

Despite its inevitable greatness, Split Fiction kicks off with a humble (if slightly cliched) beginning in which it introduces its protagonists: Mio Hudson and Zoe Foster. Mio and Zoe are nothing alike. Whereas Mio is an angsty, city-slicking, sci-fi enthusiast who’d sooner yank out her own tooth than open up to a stranger, the fantasy-loving Zoe is sunshine incarnate. And yet, the pair does share one thing in common: They are both unpublished writers in dire need of money and a byline.

As such, both of them leap at the opportunity presented by Rader Publishing, a fledgling company that merges technology and storytelling to create virtual worlds for users to immerse themselves in and explore. But whereas the overly trusting Zoe is more than willing to plug herself into the company’s simulation machine and pour forth her ideas, Mio quickly decides against it. Her protests soon turn into a physical altercation that is cut short when Rader, the comically smarmy Silicone Valley-esque exec behind Rader Publishing, accidentally shoves her into the same simulation pod as Zoe. Intended only for one user at a time, this causes not only a meltdown at Rader Publishing Headquarters, but a melding of the two women’s genre stylings as their consciousnesses connect.

Put off by Mio’s pessimism and dismissive personality, Zoe is initially irked by her presence in the fantasy world she has constructed for Rader. However, Mio is soon able to convince Zoe that Rader is up to something sinister–namely harvesting then erasing their ideas from their minds for free use–leading to the unlikely duo banding together. Mio and Zoe then set off to explore a series of stories they created as they hunt for “glitches” that might help them escape with their memories intact.

This premise lends itself beautifully to what Hazelight Studios does best: creating beautiful, immersive worlds that are ripe for players to explore with a series of unique and thoughtfully constructed toolsets. As they attempt to fight back against Rader, Mio and Zoe get the chance to explore upwards of 20 unique universes, all birthed from various parts of their imaginations. Yet what’s more staggering than the sheer number of worlds there are to explore is how full of surprises and wonder each one is.

Though each world falls into either the science-fiction or fantasy categories, the particulars vary dramatically. In the game’s second chapter, Neon Revenge, Mio and Zoe traverse a Blade Runner-esque world as cyber ninjas intent on taking down a ravenous debt collector. In this dark and gritty Mio-constructed universe, our protagonists are given two weapons, a gravity-shifting sword and a powerful cyber whip, which they must use in tandem to progress through the level and take down baddies. When not wall-running, leaping across environments, and whipping bad guys into one another, this level also includes several high-speed chases that give players a chance to operate Tron-esque vehicles, as well as three “side stories” penned by Zoe. Among these is perhaps one of the most absurdly dark-humored levels I’ve ever played in a game, and it proves that Hazelight is ready and eager to do bizarre things with its newest title. While this entire section stands on its own and triumphs at propelling players from spectacle to spectacle, it later becomes clear that Neon Revenge only scratches the surface of gameplay possibilities.

I’m hesitant to delve too much into describing the worlds to follow, as I would hate to ruin even a fraction of the delight I felt while adventuring through them. Similarly, I don’t want to fall back on “hey, remember this game? This game does that” because it feels reductive. Suffice to say Split Fiction is as much its own game as it is a love letter to others. One level was a very clear tribute to Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater, while another was clearly inspired by 2D Metroid titles and Ikaruga. I found an incredible From Software reference tucked in one corner of the game, and laughed as Zoe and Mio leapt off a building into a neat pile of hay while a bird of prey let out a fierce caw. “You have to have faith to leap like that,” Zoe cheekily commented.

My playing partner–a 3D platforming enthusiast who I will gleefully mention was dressed up as a sheep from Spyro one of the first times I met her–was quick to mention how certain levels felt like Crash Bandicoot. Later on, she excitedly remarked that a timed trial requiring us to soar through rings reminded her of Spyro. As someone who appreciated last year’s Astro Bot, yet was quick to point out it felt a bit more like an IP flex than a proper game at times, Split Fiction now exists as proof that there is a way for that concept to be executed without simply relying on nostalgia and brand recognition. And yet, I feel as if our favorite levels were the ones that felt inspired yet wholly different from preexisting works.

The Moon Market was one of my favorite worlds, with its towering castle spires, spectral cats, and chubby moles adorned in wizard cloaks toddling through cobblestone streets. When playing through The Hollow, I remarked that certain screenshots taken from this level could easily be passed off as ones from some gorgeously foreboding area in Elden Ring. In one level, the characters enter a notebook while a young Zoe scribbles up an adventure only her mind could conjure. In others, the pair leave their bodies altogether.

Yet it’s still necessary to put aside the game’s atmospheres, design, dimensionality, and sheer spectacle to give its mechanics the flowers they deserve, too. Several tools and powers were so thoughtfully designed they could have easily been the crux of an entire game, with one of my favorites being a pair of guns that had the capabilities of shooting through two different types of shields. Careful coordination was required from us to take down shielded enemies, and things grew even more stressful during fast-paced chases, when one ill-placed barrier that we forgot to take down for our teammate could spell their doom.

And it’s not as if that portion stands alone in being incredibly innovative and adding a new dimension to the game’s already engaging puzzles and challenges. Split Fiction’s final chapter, Split, could very well boast the most mechanical cleverness I’ve seen in a game since playing a Metal Gear Solid title. Just when I thought that a mechanic could no longer evolve and Split Fiction had reached its apex, another dimension was added. It was mind-bending, and I couldn’t help but think, “This game would have rewritten my brain had I played it with my sisters as a kid.”

Yet as phenomenal as Split Fiction’s gameplay is, its main characters–Zoe and Mio–are what truly elevated the entire experience for me. When you first meet Zoe and Mio, it’s easy to dismiss them as a bit flat. Their Harry and Sally dynamic (or grumpy-sunshine, for my readers out there) is the source of a lot of cliche bickering at the beginning of the game, and it’s extremely obvious that they will eventually learn to appreciate each other’s differences and form a bond. After all, we’ve seen this type of story play out time and time again. However, I didn’t expect to get as emotionally invested in that bond, and Mio and Zoe as individuals, as I ultimately did.

By the time Split Fiction came to a close, I had teared up multiple times. In exploring their imaginary worlds, dreams, ideas, and stories, the pair also delve into their pasts, their fears, and the emotional baggage they carry. This journey is executed beautifully, and I found myself deeply in love with the sisterhood the two slowly develop. Mio’s angst and distrust are there for good reason, yet she also reveals a side of her that is deeply devoted, kind, spirited, and even a bit childlike. Zoe’s whimsy and optimism, while at first overbearing, conceal a painful past and embody this idea that it is the people who have endured the most pain who display the most kindness, and are eager to ensure no one will ever feel as hurt or alone as they once did.

It’s hardly surprising that a multiplayer game stresses the importance of connection, but in Split Fiction, it is made clear that there is simply no surviving without it–that life is too much to endure alone and making it out requires caring for people even when they can’t care for themselves. Just as important, however, is allowing others to care for you, too.

Split Fiction stresses the importance of another core part of humanity as well: creativity. This is something that feels particularly pertinent right now, considering ongoing conversations around generative AI. Rader, the game’s chief antagonist, is essentially a wealthy techie intent on literally stealing creator’s ideas from their minds to feed into his machine with the ultimate goal of creating a device that can weave stories itself. As such, Split Fiction emphasizes that it takes humanity to create–that it takes the experiences that shape our lives and construct our subconscious to form stories.

Zoe could never tell the same stories Mio does, and the opposite is certainly true too. Each woman has her own lived experience, which manifests itself in their written work even if they don’t intend for that to happen. Each woman’s stories serve a different purpose, be it commemorating a loved one or giving them an alternate reality in which they have control over the things that leave them feeling powerless. Split Fiction repeatedly declares that our ideas, dreams, and creations are a fundamental part of us–that they are precious things, tied intimately to our very beings, that cannot be stripped away. Admittedly, I do think Rader as a whole is perhaps the game’s weakest part, as he is a fairly, well… cringey villain. Yet at the same time, there certainly seems to be accuracy in depicting him that way.

Split Fiction could very well be the best cooperative game I’ve ever played. At the very least, I firmly believe it sets a new standard for the genre. And yet, it’s more than that. Split Fiction is a love letter to creativity–to stories, games, and the people who make them. It is funny, dark, joyous, childish, tender, cheesy, thrilling, and remarkable. All this combined with gorgeous environments, fantastic gameplay, and sheer spectacle make Hazelight Studio’s newest release an early contender for the best game of 2025.