I'm Playing Split Fiction With My Kid And It Rules

Playing this new co-op game with my eight-year-old has been a special experience.

Mar 04, 2025

A screen shot from the co-op video game *Split Fiction*.

I have been trying—and failing—to play It Takes Two, the celebrated co-op game, for years. My wife entertained an evening, claiming to even like the experience, and then politely declined playing any further. Later, I asked my eight-year-old to play with me and…well, same thing happened. It probably didn’t help the story is about a divorce?

It Takes Two came out in 2021. Four years later, the developers of It Takes Two, Hazelight Studios, are back with another co-op adventure called Split Fiction, wherein players are sucked into the mashed up imaginations of two writers. I watched a trailer for Split Fiction with my kids a few months back and my eight-year-old registered interest, but that loop—watch a trailer, show interest in what’s shown—happens a lot.

It doesn’t necessarily translate to legitimate interest.

But I’m happy to report that over the past few days, I’ve spent several hours playing Split Fiction with my oldest daughter. We’re a long ways from finishing the game, so take this “review” with an appropriate grain of salt if that’s what you’re looking for here, but we’re having a total blast. The house is full of frustrated screams when we miss jumps, fist bumps when we nail a tricky sequence, and genuine cooperation.

In short, though, Split Fiction has the Crossplay badge of approval.

So long as your kid has basic platforming competence and you’re okay with hearing a few swears and a lil’ violence along the way, you should have a great time. (Split Fiction got my four-year-old to accidentally, hilariously say “shit.”) Both players need to die for progress to stop, and it’s only a few moments before the other person hops back in.

In what we’ve have played, it’s possible to “carry” the other player to victory. A few times we’ve swapped controllers, so that I could help her navigate those hard parts.

It has not been a process without friction, and I think it’s best to explain what it’s been like playing the game by walking you through a few clips. Like Astro Bot, I’ve been recording the experience of playing with my oldest, and I’d like to share a few.

Dad the Gaming Coach

This is pretty typical of our experience playing Split Fiction with each other. While she’s played a handful of platforming games, Split Fiction is probably the most demanding of anything she’s spent time with. But because it’s a co-op game where players are often doing the same actions, I can help coach her through those moments and try to time up our actions. She still has trouble remembering where all the buttons are, so when I’m able to get in sync with her or count down to a jump, it removes some of the mental load and she can focus on the part that she’s enjoying.

Jump, Double Jump, Dash

Proud Papa moment here, as my daughter navigates a sensory overload sequence where what’s being asked of the player (jump, double jump, dash) isn’t especially hard, but it’s doing the actions over and over while under threat. Stress! This is a kid who spends most of their video game time playing Minecraft in creative mode—not very stressful! A trick we came up with was saying the actions we needed to accomplish out loud. That’s why you hear me saying “jump, double jump, dash” out loud, to remind her as she’s playing. At one point, you also hear her say the same phrase.

Split Fiction assigns the dash to another button, but I do wish there was an option to just make dash be what happens when the player presses the jump button a third time.

Dad, Take the Wheel

A different version of Split Fiction would require that both players accomplish every task and punish both players for the failures of the other. Split Fiction, thankfully, does not do this. If I miss a jump but my daughter makes it, she doesn’t have to try again. This extends to “chase” sequences like the one above, where the game keeps going so long as one player is alive. It means a sequence that she is not capable of pulling off does not end up making her feel bad. Death is not permanent, either. You only have to wait a few moments to respawn. (Ideally, this would be an option you could turn off!)

Speaking of options you can turn on and off, Split Fiction does have some useful ones.

Under accessibility, there are some options worth looking at for parents playing with kids, most importantly “reduce enemy damage.” This isn’t a game filled with combat, but it does happen, and it’s nice when the kids are given a longer leash before they die and have to wait to respawn. Again, I wish there was a third option that eliminated death entirely, an option I’ve advocated for in more games, but this helps. Plus, it doesn’t impact what happens to you, so if you want an extra challenge, go for it.

Pay Up, Dad

This one puts a smile on my face for a few reasons. One, it’s my daughter showing confidence over the game systems to use them against me. That only happens after a sense of mastery, or at least understanding. Two, asking for that third dollar was dirty.

More Options About Death, Please

This is the closest thing we’ve encountered to a boss battle in the game so far? It’s also an instance of Split Fiction pressing all the available stressors simultaneously.

My daughter has to pluck a box out of the air with her special powers, redirect the camera at a flying car that’s constantly moving, and avoid the missiles raining down on her. She never quite figured out that last part, which is why she kept dying. It’s also why I wish the game let me flip off death entirely, because the result was her giving up and handing the controller to me. (It’d also be nice if you could swap characters.)

But we pushed forward! I beat the boss, we swapped controllers, and kept moving.

Actually, Just More Options in General

Clearly, my daughter is not ready for Guitar Hero yet.

Here’s another instance where the accessibility menu provides some great options for a great many things, but I once again wish you could dial down a little further. It’d be nice if this prompt was either A) automatic and without a failure state or B) did not kick the player to the start of the mini-game after you fail. Split Fiction, in general, lets the player keep progressing amidst their mistakes, but you’re at the mercy of success.

Others might disagree with championing ways to sand off a game’s difficulty, but for me, it comes from a place of wanting to help the game meet the player—in this case, my kid—where they’re at. The game will still be fun. Let players shape the experience.

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All told, Split Fiction has received a big thumbs up in the house, and I seem to have found a happy and willing co-op partner. My youngest doesn’t even feel jealous, because she knows the game is too hard for her. (She’s gotten frustrated “obbies” in Roblox and looks at Split Fiction as a harder “obby.”) Perhaps I’ll jinx myself and my daughter won’t want to play Split Fiction anymore, but I hope that’s not the case.