Exploring South of Midnight: while the player knits the world with threads of magic, the game puts a strain on his nerves with its combat system

Magic is not for fireballs, but for mending broken things: people, memories, and a world that fell apart after the storm. Welcome to South of Midnight, a game where the combat system rustles like an old shirt, but the story is woven with threads of real power.

You play as Hazel, a girl who finds herself in the otherworldly US South after a hurricane, full of ghosts, swamps, forgotten stories, and magic that literally mends the world. Instead of swords, weaving. Instead of epic bosses, there are ghosts made of pain. Instead of a heroic arch, it's a personal, bitter, and important transformation. This is not a game about saving the world. It's a game about picking it up piece by piece - and not losing yourself between the lines.

And if the battle didn't wedge at every turn, it would be worthless.

Fast forward.

• What kind of game is this, and who dared to make it
• Prospero's world: when reality is bursting at the seams
• Knitting versus Haints: how it's all played
• Style, sound, and everything that makes Prospero alive (albeit dead)
• Where the stitches fail: problems that cannot be hidden behind style
• A game for those who are tired of winning
  
  • 6 reasons to pay attention to South of Midnight
  • 5 reasons why South of Midnight shouldn't be missed

What is this game and who dared to make it

South of Midnight is a game that doesn't pretend to be a fun ride. It doesn't disguise folklore as farce, but takes real swamps, real ghosts, real history and rolls it all into a magical mix where silence matters more than a shot.

Developed by the Canadian studio Compulsion Games (the same ones that gave us the bizarre We Happy Few), the game was released under the wing of Xbox Game Studios. It's not a billion-dollar blockbuster with an asteroid-sized marketing campaign, but rather an intimate, strange, sometimes awkward, but deeply honest story about loss, inheritance, and inner healing. And if you are close to the idea that real monsters are not always those who growl, but sometimes those who could not be let go, this is the place for you.

Hazel Flood is at the centre of the story. A young black woman who finds herself in a twisted version of the American South after a devastating hurricane. There are swamps that pull her down not only physically but also symbolically. Here are the spirits(Haints are ghosts with roots in American Southern folklore, created from pain and untold stories). Here is the role of the Weaver, an inherited magical power that allows Hazel to stitch together the torn: reality, souls, family memory.

The main character of the game is Hazel Flood. Illustration: Compulsion Games

But don't rush to dive into this "magic" - it works deeper than it seems. Sometimes it looks like sewing on a living thing. Sometimes it's a desperate attempt to hold on to yourself while everything around you is coming apart at the seams.

Prospero's world: when reality is coming apart at the seams

In South of Midnight, the world has not just changed - it has literally torn apart. After a hurricane sweeps away everything familiar, the protagonist Hazel finds herself in a twisted version of the American South. This place is called Prospero, and there is nothing wrong with irony here: prosperity seems to have been forgotten long ago in a swamp that pulls you down as much as any birth trauma.

This is the South, where not only ghosts live, but also what gave birth to them. There are abandoned plantations, abandoned mining towns, huts with a history that is better not to mention aloud. The local locations are not just "levels" but layers of memory: swamps filled with pig waste, broken roads, ghost houses, and even the remains of a colonial business that has long since disappeared but left a smell.

All of this is the backdrop for the story of Hazel, who suddenly becomes the Knitter, a carrier of old magic that can stitch the world together. Her power does not attack, it mends. If you rush into battle, you'll get a straight shot. But if you want to heal the soul of a creature who was once a human and now became a Haint, you can't do without the magic of weaving. It literally sews reality back together.

A mixture of Southern US Gothic, magical realism and post-traumatic fairy tale. Illustration: Compulsion Games

Prospero is not just a gloomy location. It is a mixture of Southern Gothic, magical realism, and post-traumatic fairy tale. Everything here is a metaphor: from the trees that have grown out of forgotten graves to the huts that remember more than Hazel wants them to. And this is what makes the game world alive. Not open, but frank. Not friendly, but honest.

Nothing is explained in the forehead. They just give you a branch, a thread, and say: "Try to sew it all back together. If you can."

Knitting versus Haints: how it's played in general

On paper, South of Midnight is a familiar third-person action adventure. A camera over your shoulder, platforming, battles, puzzles, leveling up, everything we like. But the main trick here is not in the combinations of blows, but in the way Hazel interacts with this broken world.

Weaving magic is not for decoration

The main mechanic is weaving, or weaving magic. Hazel doesn't throw fireballs, swing her sword, or destroy. She knits, sews, and mends. This applies to combat, exploration, and puzzles. Sometimes it's to create a path. Sometimes it's about repairing a piece of the world. And sometimes it's about literally healing a creature turned into a monster by its own pain.

Weaving is not a mechanic for show. It works on all levels: gameplay, narrative, and symbolic. But this also means that the action here is not always what you come for.

Image description. Illustration: Compulsion Games

But the combat... it's cracking

The battles are built around closed arenas where waves of enemies (often Haints) are thrown at you. You knit them into a state of rest, dodge, combine light/heavy attacks, and use skills. But over time, you realise that the enemies are the same, the arenas are similar, the difficulty is flat, and the effect of the battle is more like a cleaner after a storm: you do it, move on, and don't remember.

Higher difficulty levels stretch the experience a bit: dodging in time is important, spamming is ineffective, and skills need to be combined. But the basics remain: it's a battle that works, but doesn't enchant.

Platforming, puzzles, and Crouton

In addition to combat, there is easy platforming and interaction with the environment. Hazel jumps, climbs, and sometimes looks for ways to "weave" her way through the elements of the environment. She is assisted by Crouton, a knitted companion, a cross between a magical Pokémon, a magic rat, and a living threaded creature that you want to hug, even if you are an adult and very serious. You can send it into narrow crevices, press levers, and open new areas. He doesn't talk, he just squeals cute (in a good way), but he is somewhat reminiscent of a magical guinea pig.

Pumping and collecting

There are upgrades: you can improve your skills for the collected "floofs" (local currency, looks like small balls of magic thread or fluffy balls of energy, depending on the location). There are hidden "threads of life" that increase health points. There are hidden finds that deepen the story. All this does not open up America, but it creates a sense of progress. South of Midnight does not try to shock with its game design.

The game takes the tried and tested and inserts an unusual soul into it.

The only question is whether you're ready to put up with the arena for the moment when the pain flies off the monster and something human remains.

Style, sound, and everything that makes Prospero alive (though dead)

At first glance, South of Midnight looks like it was hand-made from fabric, clay, and pain, and then let it all move to the blues guitar. And this is not a metaphor: the visual style of the game is inspired by stop-motion animation - the characters move as if they were made of cloth and clay and then animated by hand, frame by frame. Every movement here has weight. Hazel seems to be pulling herself forward a little bit - and this is not a bug, it makes sense. Everything in this world is slow, viscous, like after a great loss. The enemies behave strangely, as if they had just been moulded. Houses creak even in silence. Water doesn't flow, it seeps. This style gives the impression that you are wandering in the world of a fairy tale that was rewritten after a nervous breakdown, but left out all the important phrases.

The game gives the impression that you are wandering in the world of a fairy tale that was rewritten after a nervous breakdown, but all the important phrases were left out. Illustration: Compulsion Games

And that's where the sound comes in. The music for the game was created by Olivier Deriviere - you may remember him from the music for A Plague Tale: Innocence, and he clearly knows what music is as a storytelling tool. There are full blown blues songs recorded in the studio with vocals that get under your skin. They are played for a reason, but at important plot points - as a commentary or emotional reinforcement. The soundtrack is not a background, but partners with the story.

And then there is the atmosphere, which cannot be written in the code - it either exists or it doesn't. South of Midnight has it. The air is heavy here. Here, silence is more frightening than enemies. Here, you don't want to run forward, but to stop and watch the world breathe slowly, albeit barely.

Where the seams don't hold: problems that can't be hidden behind style

The main complaint about the game is its repetitiveness. Battle scenarios revolve around the same formula: arena, wave of enemies, a couple of objects to dodge, repeat. The heights look good, but they fight the same way. You quickly learn which one does what, and then you just do the dodge, hit, and dodge exercise.

The skills, although unlocked gradually, don't give you a sense of depth or variation. You have a "light punch", a "heavy punch", a little more magic, and a few passives, and that's enough to get you through to the end. There is no need for experiments, because most situations are solved with the same set of actions.

You want gameplay that supports the narrative, not distracts from it. Illustration: Compulsion Games

Another nuance is the uneven pace of the game. The beginning drags on: the world is beautiful, but the dynamics are lacking. After 2-3 hours, it gets more interesting, but the combat zones still break the emotional rhythm. You have just experienced an important storyline scene, and then you are faced with an arena with three types of enemies that you have already seen a dozen times.

But the most frustrating thing is the contrast between the depth of the theme and the simplicity of the combat. You're playing a game about trauma, healing, and difficult choices, and suddenly you're thrown into an arena where you have to press "hit" three times and roll. Here you want gameplay that supports the narrative, not distracts from it.

This is not fatal. It's not a failure. But this is the moment when the thread of the plot is stretched - and almost breaks under the weight of a monotonous combat routine.

A game for those who are tired of winning

South of Midnight is not a game you play to win. It's a game you play to realise how much of yourself is still unstitched. It doesn't count combos, build builds with +12% fire damage, or throw you into an open world with a hundred markers. Instead, there are ghosts that don't want to be rescued. Swamps that remember everything. And a heroine who fixes the world not because someone asked her to, but because there's no one else.

This is a game for those who want not only entertainment but also a little therapy from games. Illustration: Compulsion Games

This is a game for those who listen, not just shoot. For those who want not only entertainment but also a little therapy from games. Yes, it's not perfect. She limps around the arena, stutters in battle, and doesn't always keep up with her own ambitions. But when she speaks, she speaks clearly, deeply and directly to the heart.

If you want catharsis through chaos, look no further. And if you want quiet magic about being human in a place where everything has long since fallen apart, South of Midnight is worth your attention.

6 reasons to pay attention to South of Midnight

• An incredibly atmospheric world created at the intersection of gothic, folklore, and magical realism is unlike anything else in the genre.
• The protagonist with character and depth - Hazel is not a superhero, but a person with pain, heritage and her own voice.
• Themagic weaving mechanic that works in combat, in exploration, and as a symbol of healing - a rare combination of meaning and gameplay.
• A stop-motion visual style that gives the game a strange charm: here, every scene looks like clay from memories come to life.
• A soundtrack that comments on the plot rather than just pushing for epicness - blues, folk, and musical phrases that are better than cutscenes.
• A story that speaks about memory, loss and family - without being moralistic, but with emotional weight.

5 reasons why South of Midnight should be skipped

• Thecombat system is monotonous, the arenas are repetitive, and the enemies quickly become familiar to the point of gnashing of teeth.
• Thepace of events is choppy - the first hours may seem slow and without sufficient rewards.
• The levelingis superficial, and there is almost no variation in tactics, even on higher difficulty levels.
• The gameplay does not reach the depth of the plot - there is a gap between an emotional scene and a banal fight.
• Not for those who are looking for action for the sake of drive - this game is more about feelings and emotional story than adrenaline.

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