Developer – Compulsion Games

Publisher – Xbox Game Studios

Platforms –   Xbox Series S|X,PC (Reviewed)

Review copy given by Publisher

As a long-time fan of Compulsion Games, I still remember being completely drawn into their first title, Contrast. It had such a unique atmosphere—dreamlike noir with a clever mechanic that let you shift between 3D and 2D shadow worlds. It wasn’t just visually striking, it had a heartfelt story and an experimental spirit that made it stand out from the crowd back in 2013. I was actually one of the first people to review Contrast around its release, and even then, I could feel that this studio had something special—a bold, creative vision that didn’t always play it safe.

So when We Happy Few was announced, I was hyped. The reveal trailer gave off serious BioShock vibes, with its twisted dystopia, eerie masks, and a darkly satirical tone. It looked like Compulsion was leveling up big time. But when the game finally dropped, I—and a lot of others—felt a bit let down. It was ambitious, sure, but also messy. The procedurally generated world didn’t quite gel with the strong narrative they seemed to be aiming for, and the survival mechanics often felt like they were getting in the way of the story instead of supporting it. Reviews and reactions online echoed that sentiment—people on Reddit and Steam forums talked about how it felt like two different games stitched together, one trying to be a compelling narrative experience and the other a survival sandbox that didn’t quite land.

Still, even with its flaws, I respected what We Happy Few was trying to do. And that’s why, when I first heard about South of Midnight, I couldn’t help but get excited all over again.

From the moment South of Midnight opens with a haunting blues guitar riff and the creaking groan of cypress trees in the wind, it’s clear that this isn’t just another action-adventure game. This is a full-on Southern Gothic odyssey, a weird, weathered folktale soaked in moonlight, folklore, and memory. Compulsion Games, has leveled up in a big way here, delivering a visually distinct, emotionally potent experience that feels like a campfire story come to life—only that fire is flickering somewhere between the real and the surreal.

In South of Midnight, You play as Hazel, a young woman from the sleepy fictional Southern town of Prospero. When a hurricane ravages her home, she’s pulled into a shadowy mirror world—one shaped by memory, myth, and the remnants of generational trauma. As a newly appointed Weaver, Hazel isn’t just exploring a broken world, she’s tasked with mending it. She uses mystical thread-like magic to literally stitch reality back together, binding spirits, sealing cracks in the Grand Tapestry of existence, and confronting dangerous entities born from folklore and pain. It’s a fresh spin on the action-adventure formula and one that feels uniquely tied to its setting.

Hazel’s journey is deeply personal. This isn’t just about saving a town—it’s about confronting the ghosts of family, the weight of legacy, and the stories that shape who we are. Much of the game’s emotional punch comes from the moments between battles and puzzles: conversations with spectral echoes of the past, reading hand-written letters left behind in abandoned homes, or pausing to take in a half-submerged church bathed in dusky light. Compulsion’s writing hits hard in these quiet moments, managing to be both poetic and grounded, lyrical but never pretentious.

Gameplay balances exploration, puzzle-solving, and combat, with Hazel’s weaving abilities offering a magical, tactile way to interact with the world. She can pull bridges together from frayed strands of energy, mend damaged structures, and untangle corrupted spirits in combat. These powers feel intuitive, satisfying, and thematically rich—there’s a rhythm to weaving that becomes second nature by the halfway point, especially when puzzles start layering environmental manipulation with emotional storytelling.

Combat leans toward the meditative rather than the frantic. You don’t just whack away at enemies; you study them. Many of the corrupted Haints you face are twisted takes on Southern legends—shadowy beings with long fingers and mournful songs, possessed scarecrows that creak with rage, or fire-eyed dogs that prowl in packs. Before Hazel can subdue them, she often needs to uncover their history through dream-like sequences or environmental storytelling. These fights are as much about understanding as defeating, and that emotional grounding makes every encounter hit harder.

Where South of Midnight truly excels is in its world-building. Prospero County is a lovingly crafted, melancholic masterpiece of a setting. Each area—from moss-draped swamps and sunken towns to dusty highways where ghosts hitch rides—feels rich with backstory. Visual storytelling is everywhere: a family portrait clinging to a wall in a half-collapsed home, roadside shrines to long-lost locals, a music shop overtaken by vines and silence. There’s a lived-in history to every location, and discovering its secrets is as rewarding as progressing the main story.

The art direction leans heavily into stop-motion influences, with a slightly surreal frame-rate to character animations that makes everything feel just a bit off in the best way. Hazel herself moves with a unique grace, and the creature designs are top-tier: grotesque, beautiful, and often tragic. You’ll want to pause just to take it all in—the shimmering strands of magic in a forest clearing, the way light filters through ruined stained glass in an abandoned church, or the reflections of the stars on a bayou’s surface.

Sound design is another standout. Every rustle of the leaves, every creak of an old wooden porch, every ghostly whisper layered in the background adds texture to the world. The soundtrack, composed by Olivier Derivière, blends blues, gospel, and swamp-folk into something deeply soulful. It’s not just ambient—it tells a story. When Hazel walks into a new area and a mournful slide guitar picks up, you feel the weight of the place. The music never intrudes but always enhances, often elevating already emotional scenes into something unforgettable.

Narratively, South of Midnight shines because it’s unafraid to get weird. There’s a dream-logic to much of the storytelling that might remind players of Control or even Alan Wake 2, but grounded in distinctly Southern roots. One minute you’re bartering with a ghost preacher, the next you’re navigating a town frozen in time, caught in the loop of a memory that refuses to fade. These moments play like interactive poetry—cryptic, haunting, and sometimes heartbreaking.

What’s refreshing is how thoughtful the game is about its inspirations. It doesn’t exploit the Deep South for its aesthetics—it understands them. This isn’t the South as caricature or horror trope, but as a region with deep, complicated beauty and pain. Compulsion clearly did their homework, and their respect for Southern history and culture is evident in everything from the dialects used to the stories told. It’s rare to see a game dive into this kind of setting with such sincerity.

Accessibility features are commendable too. The game includes multiple difficulty options, visual assistance for colorblind players, and audio captioning for key sounds—crucial in a game where ambient noise often carries meaning. It’s another example of how much care was put into every corner of the design.

Hazel is a standout protagonist. She starts out unsure, even reluctant, but as the story unfolds, you watch her grow—not just in power, but in conviction. Her relationships, especially the strained one with her mother, give the narrative a beating heart. Dialogue is sharp, sometimes funny, and often poignant. Even minor characters—spirits stuck in time or locals hiding secrets—leave lasting impressions.

The game isn’t without its faults. Combat can occasionally feel undercooked, especially in its later stages when enemy variety starts to thin. The weaving mechanic, while clever, doesn’t evolve as much as it could have over the course of the game. There were moments where I wished for more complexity or variation in the enemy designs and strategies.

Still, those are small blemishes on an otherwise captivating canvas. South of Midnight is ultimately a story game, and it sticks the landing. Its final hours are powerful, emotional, and earned—resolving Hazel’s arc in a way that feels honest and cathartic. There’s no world-ending cataclysm here, no need for bombast. Just a girl, her history, and the threads she chooses to pull.

Replay value is modest. The game is largely linear, though there are hidden spirits, side-lore, and secrets for completionists to track down. If you’re the type to get lost in a world’s nooks and crannies, there’s a lot to savor. But this is a game that values the journey more than the grind, and that’s part of its charm.

What lingers most after finishing South of Midnight isn’t a specific boss fight or plot twist, but a feeling—of warmth and melancholy, of fireside stories and summer storms. It’s a game that makes you sit with its ideas, its people, its ghosts. The world of Prospero feels like a place you could almost visit, and leaving it behind feels a little like saying goodbye to an old friend.

In the end, South of Midnight is a rare kind of game: a haunting, heartfelt Southern folktale with modern soul. It’s weird in all the right ways, ambitious in its themes, and stunning in execution. Hazel’s journey is one I’ll remember not just for the battles she fought, but for the songs she heard, the wounds she healed, and the stories she carried with her. This is Compulsion Games’ best work to date, and one of the most distinctive action-adventure games of the year.