In an early chapter of South of Midnight, our protagonist Hazel is coming to grips with her newfound powers - it’s an important tone-setter, because it’s representative of what developer Compulsion Games is trying to do throughout a concise 12-hour runtime. Mythical creatures straight out of folklore from the American South drive a human story that stands as a fantastic example of how the local can be universal, with the grand tapestry of that region's culture and history wrapped around an otherwise fairly straightforward action-adventure game. While there are plenty of aspects of South of Midnight that aren’t necessarily groundbreaking, it’s all uplifted by a clear and well-executed artistic vision that makes it one the more memorable Xbox console exclusives of this generation.
Hazel’s ability to manipulate the magical threads of an ethereal realm is both the weapon she uses to defeat otherworldly demons in combat and the tool she relies on to piece together the tragic pasts of her neighbors and forebears in her hometown of Prospero. It’s a fictional place, but one that’s deeply rooted in the very real experience of the South – traces of its dark history litter the dilapidated houses after a treacherous flood, contrasting with the remnants of communities that struggled to survive in those harsh conditions. These touches provide the rich context South of Midnight is working within while also unraveling a larger story about the pain, guilt, and trauma many of us experience in our own family lives.
From a gameplay perspective, South of Midnight is rather simple – you’re ushered through fairly linear levels that alternate between platforming and combat encounters, with a few secrets hidden off the beaten path like journal entries from the locals that enrich the story and extra upgrades for your powers and health. If you’ve scaled cliffsides in Uncharted, God of War, or Tomb Raider, its frequent climbing sections will feel pretty familiar – but with the authentic sights and sounds of the American South at the forefront, the detailed vistas, ramshackled towns, or rushing rivers create a strong sense of place. With Hazel’s weaving powers, you’ll zip through air, clear paths forward, or summon ethereal objects depending on what obstacles are in front of you. There isn’t really much to figure out per se, although there is an enjoyable momentum as you’re funneled from one fight to the next, or when you’re trying to outrun evil spirits chasing you down in the lengthy platforming sequences that cap off every major chapter.
Combat itself is contained in distinct arenas across each level, with the idea being that Haints – the demonic manifestations of peoples’ pain and sorrow – plague all of Prospero, and Hazel is the one who can cleanse that corruption. It’s a comfortable, if predictable, cadence that doesn’t really wear thin since it’s judicious about when you actually have to fight. This helps South of Midnight not feel repetitive, and I genuinely looked forward to each combat encounter. Similar to the platforming, these fights aren’t really pushing any boundaries, but Hazel's attack combos and spells have a certain chunkiness that I really enjoyed. That’s especially true when firing off her stun weaves and grappling strand to stack damage, then leaving a burst behind with a perfect dodge. Cycling through a shortlist of fun abilities like that makes the basics satisfying.
It’s everything around South of Midnight’s competent foundation that makes it truly stand out.Haints come in various forms that give encounters enough variety. Some are swift and pesky, while others are hulking beasts that tunnel underground and cause massive area-of-effect damage. They’re mixed and matched throughout, and things like Hazel’s puppet named Crouton, who can temporarily control enemies, add an interesting wrinkle when thinking about which targets to prioritize. There are a few boss fights to heighten the stakes with a bit of spectacle as well, but they mostly tend to highlight the formulaic nature of combat by relying on derivative versions of mechanics that are used elsewhere.
South of Midnight’s foundation is perfectly competent, but it’s everything else around it that makes it truly stand out, grabbing you with its painterly character designs and striking stop-motion animation style. That unconventional choice helps special moments pop during cutscenes, although it isn’t really noticeable in the action – and if you find it too jarring, you can optionally disable the stop-motion effect altogether. Even without it, the details in characters’ faces, their expressiveness, and the superb voice acting feel like the real reward chapter after chapter. The specific accents and vernacular come across authentically, to the point where I didn’t think twice about them since it all sounded so familiar to me as someone who was born in the region.
Southern gothic folklore hasn’t really been explored in games like this, and South of Midnight showcases how rich it is by bringing these tales to life in ways we rarely see. Mythical creatures embody the pain and suffering of townsfolk, melding broader urban myths with the struggles of specific characters throughout the story. A figure like Florida’s legendary alligator Two-Toed Tom shows up as a boss, while the shapeshifting Rougarou from Cajun tales takes a form I hadn’t heard of before – and Alabama’s Huggin’ Molly has on a fascinating reinterpretation. It’s the sort of amalgamation of folklore that’s wonderful to see as someone who is familiar with some of it, but done in a way that’s still inviting for the uninitiated.
South of Midnight acknowledges the region’s real history in subtle and effective ways as well, recognizing that remnants of slavery and the Reconstruction era persist in our modern world, and that trauma can carry across generations. Passing by abandoned houses along the bayou with eviction notices from greedy landgrabbers reminds you of the rough and unfair economic conditions many of these communities face. It’s woven into its main themes about the complicated dynamics of family – the best and worst parts that can come from blood relations. With her weaving powers, Hazel can peer into the past through visions recreated using the threads that make up The Grand Tapestry – the flow of all life and memory. You’ll see a mother risking life and limb to escape abuse and give their child a fighting chance; A man ashamed of his brother who takes drastic measures to separate himself, only to live with regret forever; A kid who called out to a mythical creature in desperation to escape his abusive father.
It brings Southern folklore to life in ways we rarely see.From tragic displays of unconditional love to the horrors of the abuse our own kin can inflict on us, South of Midnight focuses on the idea of family being something we either embrace or reckon with, told in a way that’s inseparable from its setting. Through it all, Hazel is desperately chasing any possible thread to find her mother after that devastating flood at the start, but is still willing to lend a helping hand to the spirits that have endured in the afterlife. As you uncover the hard work her mom puts in as a social worker, it shows that a little empathy can go a long way.
There’s a lot I love about the stories in South of Midnight – I do wish they were more elegant or told with more finesse, however. The larger plot is missing some necessary connective tissue at times, and it’s easy to lose track of why Hazel’s journey leads from one thing to another. Characters and narrative threads are sometimes introduced as quickly as they’re resolved through story beats that feel segmented in ways that aren’t entirely clear. There are parts of Hazel’s life I’m still wondering about that get brought up as important pieces to the story, and I wish I could have tied those loose ends together before the credits rolled.
It gets the big picture right, though, and in its exploration of a region as wide-ranging as the American South, there’s an earnest interpretation. While it is also a heavily religious place, the story is more interested in the spirituality that gives rise to these folktales. And it’s not all swamps and basins out there, it’s not just Bourbon street in New Orleans, or a politically hostile place for marginalized folks – those are all part of it, for sure. But I like that we have a story that shows that people live there, and they struggle in ways that are both universal and unique to the region. South of Midnight also understands that hurt people hurt people, and knows it’s not an excuse for the terrible things that pain may drive people to do – it’s a bit of a trope when stories talk about mental health nowadays, but there’s still truth to it, and South of Midnight has its own take by focusing on this concept with regards to family.
Perhaps my favorite touch, however, is how South of Midnight uses its fantastic soundtrack to tie everything together thematically. With a mix of bluegrass, blues, jazz, and American folk tunes that weave in harmonizing choirs, church organs, or banjos and fiddles, it’s a showcase of how important music has been throughout the region’s history. Big story moments are built up through songs written as if a narrator was walking you through what the characters felt and experienced in their life, and they’re queued up at just the right time to propel you forward as you’re playing. It got me in my feelings at times, because there’s not much I love more than a fantastic soundtrack used as an effective storytelling device.
Many of us from the South have a complicated relationship with it. Born in Mississippi and adopting parts of the culture and vernacular as my family and I moved throughout the country, it’ll always have a special place in my heart. I appreciate having a game that helped me reconnect with those roots in a way that was whimsical and harrowing in equal measure, and that’s the sort of value South of Midnight has beyond just being a good action-adventure game – it’s worth playing for a little virtual tour of the South you wouldn’t see otherwise.
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