Puzzle Games? Love ‘Em. Co-op Stress? Not So Much.
I’m a puzzle girl. Always have been. Crosswords, escape rooms (especially these), logic puzzles—you name it, I’m there with my sleeves rolled up and my brain revved. Add in multiplayer, and you’d think I’d be living my best life. And for the most part, I am… until the moment someone’s progress depends entirely on me doing something right. That’s when things go from “fun co-op” to “existential crisis.”
Enter Split Fiction, EA’s new co-op puzzle adventure that dares to ask: how well do you and your chosen game partner really work together? And my answer? We’re… working on it. I struggle with putting unnecessary pressure on myself when playing with others.
The Premise: Two Worlds, One Shared Fate
At its core, Split Fiction is about two characters—Mio Hudson and Zoe Foster—who couldn’t be more different if they tried. Mio is methodical, calculated, and grounded in logic. The type who reads the manual cover to cover before assembling Ikea furniture. Zoe? She’s pure intuition and gut instinct, with a healthy dash of “let’s see what happens if I push this button.” She’s the chaotic, whimsical energy to Mio’s precision. From the jump, you wonder how these two ended up being the ones stuck together, unraveling a mystery that spans different dimensions. But as you play, their differences become their greatest asset—if you let them. Mio’s steady approach balances Zoe’s impulsiveness, while Zoe’s creative thinking can pull Mio out of a logic spiral when things get too clinical. Their dynamic during gameplay reflects this perfectly: some puzzles need measured strategy, others demand quick thinking and risk-taking. And watching their relationship evolve as they learn to rely on each other gives the story an emotional depth that hit me harder than I expected.
A Beautiful Headache
On paper, Split Fiction is everything I love. Two players, two perspectives, one intertwined story you have to unravel—literally—by solving puzzles that require tight communication and cooperation. It’s beautifully designed, smart, and the narrative twists keep you invested. But beneath all that, Split Fiction is a pressure cooker. One that turns up the heat every time your partner has to stand there waiting on you to finish your part before they can move on.
Now, if you’re the type who thrives under pressure, congrats! You’re probably the MVP in your gaming group. Me? I’m sitting there, hands sweaty on the controller, panicking because my co-op partner can’t open the next door until I align these symbols just right—and they’re counting on me not to botch it (again).
I’ve played a lot of co-op games, but Split Fiction feels like a trust fall you keep doing over and over. And it’s not the chill, “we’re having fun” kind of trust fall. It’s the “oh no, I might break us” kind. It tested my patience. My ability to communicate. My willingness to not throw my controller when my brain short-circuited, and I cost my husband our progress.
And look, I get it. That’s the point. Games like Split Fiction are built to stretch your communication skills. They’re true relationship litmus tests. You’ll find out real quick if you and your bestie, your boo, or your brother can handle the stress without turning on each other. Forget Monopoly or Uno—this is a game that’ll test your relationships.
But here’s the thing: I still love it. Even through the stress and second-guessing, Split Fiction delivers the kind of co-op experience that makes you feel something. Accomplished. Connected. Seen. Because when you and your partner finally figure out that tricky puzzle, or when your two storylines click together in a way that makes the bigger picture make sense, it’s magic. High stress equals high reward here.
And Y’all Know I love Me Some Easter Eggs
Split Fiction doesn’t just sprinkle them in—it straight-up throws a party for gamers who love spotting references. There’s a whole toy store in one of the glitches that has Cutie from It Takes Two as it’s mascot, and I swear one of the obstacle layouts is a nod to classic Donkey Kong, barrels and all (minus the questionable plumbing). There’s a section of loop-de-loops that say “Gotta go fast” that was definitely a nod to Sonic, and don’t even get me started on the roundtable that feels like a love letter to Elden Ring—creepy ambiance and all. A stealth section where you avoid enemies in a cardboard box? That’s Metal Gear Solid energy, baby. The rolling boulder chase? Straight outta Crash Bandicoot. There’s even a portal mechanic that made me want to yell “The cake is a lie!” even though I knew better.
And somewhere in all that chaos, I caught a Sailor Moon transformation reference that had me giggling at my screen because I am definitely a Moonie. There’s even an assassin’s leap of faith moment that practically winks at Assassin’s Creed fans. If you love catching nods to your favorite games and anime, this game delivers. I love when new works pay homage to those that came before them. I’m a sucker for nostalgia done tastefully.
Final Thoughts: Play With Someone You Love (or at Least Tolerate)
Split Fiction isn’t just about solving puzzles. It’s about navigating the messy, sometimes stressful, always rewarding dance of communication—and spotting those little gems along the way that remind you why you’re playing in the first place. And if you survive it? You and your co-op partner might just come out stronger on the other side. So if you love puzzles, crave co-op, and want to see if your relationships can survive a little stress test, Split Fiction is calling. Just make sure you pick your player two wisely. And keep your eyes peeled—you might spot a few familiar nods to your favorite games (and magical girlies) along the way.
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