Split Fiction Review

Here's the pitch: you and a friend are playing two authors, Mio and Zoe, trying to write the same book. The catch? You're playing out the story as you write it, and your screens don't match. Split Fiction is Josef Fares operating at the peak of his powers. Where It Takes Two gave each player different mechanical tools, this game gives you different realities. Mio writes gritty, grounded sci-fi. Zoe writes whimsical fantasy. You're playing through the exact same levels, but what looks like a rusted-out mech chassis on Mio's half of the screen might be a sleeping stone golem on Zoe's. This isn't just a visual trick. The puzzles require you to constantly talk to each other to figure out what the other person is seeing. "I can walk on this laser bridge," my co-op partner said during chapter three. "What laser bridge?" I replied, staring at an empty chasm. It forces communication in a way that feels completely natural to the narrative. The game constantly reinvents itself. Every chapter throws out the old mechanics and introduces something entirely new. One hour you're doing isometric stealth, the next you're in a rhythm-based boss fight. It's almost exhausting how many ideas Hazelight crammed into this 10-hour campaign. If there's a knock against it, it's that the mandatory two-player requirement is still a barrier for a lot of people. And a few of the mechanical shifts wear out their welcome just a few minutes before the game moves on. But these are minor gripes. The Friend's Pass is back, meaning only one person needs to buy the game, which remains one of the most consumer-friendly moves in the industry. Grab a friend, clear a weekend, and play this.