Despite Being Week One, I Believe I’ve Already Played One of 2025’s Top Games

You know, there’s something incredible about a game that can make you audibly gasp in awe, and Split Fiction does just that. In a one-hour hands-on demo with this latest creation from Hazelight Studios, set to be published by EA, I was repeatedly stunned. I had the pleasure of this experience with Hazelight’s very own Josef Fares, and let me tell you, he’s a bit of a character—a flashy dude, you might say, oozing with charisma. Suited up to the nines, he left me a little embarrassed in my casual gaming-reviewer attire, but hey, it’s all part of the charm. As an aficionado of luxury watches, my eyes inevitably darted to his wrist as we shook hands, and yes, I was impressed.

Now, back to the game. Let’s talk about Fares for a moment. He’s the kind of guy who leaves an impression—so much so, that when I use my phone as a makeshift recorder, Google’s AI transcripts get a little… creative. After a chat with the head of Flight Simulator, it titled the transcript ‘Flight,’ and with Capcom’s Ryozo Tsujimoto, it called it ‘Monster’—predictable, right? But with Fares, it just summed it up as ‘Shitload.’ It’s fitting, given his colorful language and the essence of Split Fiction.

The game embraces the philosophy of packing in a whole lot of unique experiences, but not in a chaotic, overwhelming way. It’s a linear adventure, carrying the torch from the award-winning It Takes Two, yet diverging as it consistently introduces something fresh and extraordinary every few minutes. You find yourself uttering ‘wow’ more than once—it’s a testament to its captivating design.

Let’s discuss what drives Hazelight’s projects. The pattern they follow with each game instills a fair bit of confidence, even if that means there’s a chance of the next one feeling a tad familiar. When I first learned about Split Fiction, I wondered if it’d be another version of It Takes Two. But this game’s clever design and unique setting prove otherwise. The core idea is built around contrasts, with protagonists named after Fares’ daughters, Zoe and Mio. These two strangers, both authors, have starkly different tastes in fiction—one dwells in sci-fi and the other in fantasy.

The plot thickens when they end up trapped in a brain-scanning device that’s supposed to read and create virtual realities from their stories, but only one person should be in there at a time. Yet, fate brings these two together, and their imagined worlds mash up in unexpected ways.

In practice, Split Fiction lives up to its name, continuously juxtaposing these two realities. One moment, you’re navigating Mio’s sci-fi metropolis akin to Blade Runner, and the next, Zoe’s whimsical fantasy forest.

What’s intriguing is how the game plays with familiar gaming themes. Science fiction levels remind you of Metroid’s puzzles for a spell. Then, in a twist, you’re snowboarding through an SSX-like experience, complete with tricks and stunts—just amid a sci-fi backdrop.

Fares is visibly excited about this concept, and it’s noticeable. He beams as he takes me through various levels using Split Fiction’s debug menus, casually teleporting me from one scenario to another. He’s essentially telling me, “Look at this mechanic. Now this one. Isn’t this art?” And indeed, games are art! This one just happens to be packed with loads of diverse content—though not the repetitive kind, mind you.

There are moments when the design just seems to be fueled by sheer joy, or when someone clearly has a fondness for Contra-like sequences, sprinkled with humor. These are typically optional parts offering fresh mechanics for a short while and then disappearing. Yet, some elements hold more weight, driven by the game’s essential co-op nature, a staple in Hazelight’s works.

You can rely on tight platforming, cinematic flair, beautifully framed split screens, and puzzles that demand teamwork. These elements aren’t the revolutionary parts—but Hazelight has mastered them. This foundation enables the studio to explore innovative, polished depths.

“We’re getting better at this,” Fares reflects, pleased with the impact the demo had on me.

“We’re arguably the best in the world at what we do because nobody else commits to co-op design quite like this,” Fares proudly declares. “Sure, you’ve got single-player modes with split screens, but not like this from the ground up.”

Such ambition isn’t without its hurdles. The snowboarding section, for example—Fares insists on maintaining a high-quality standard because players are tuned to notice even brief experiences.

“A snowboard should feel like a snowboard. The player shouldn’t have to think about it, but the game has to deliver,” he emphasizes. “We’re not making our lives easy, but we’re good at releasing something polished, and that’s our challenge and strength.”

Back in the hands-on demo, Fares leads me through a whirlwind assortment of mechanics, divulging snippets I can’t even share yet. His excitement is contagious, showcasing the game’s potential with an exuberance that screams passion and creativity.

I can’t help but draw comparisons. Split Fiction exudes an energy reminiscent of Nintendo’s playful spirit or even Doctor Who’s unpredictable escapades—a uniquely British flair, with Fares’ vibrant language as a twist.

Doctor Who rarely settles, each episode introducing entire new worlds, only to discard them entirely. It’s this dynamic, ever-changing essence that resonates with Split Fiction. Players are flung from one spectacle to the next, keeping them engaged through relentless variety—a bold design choice that leaves them breathless.

Concluding my demo, I realize this isn’t your standard hands-on playthrough. Guided through significant parts of the game by its energetic director, I’ve seen a tantalizing slice of what’s to come. It’s not easy to predict how the final product will stack up, but if first impressions count for anything, we’re on the brink of something truly thrilling.

Mark your calendars, folks—Split Fiction launches on March 5. I’m eagerly looking forward to diving into the complete experience.