In a landscape still starved for meaningful Black representation, South of Midnight breaks ground not with spectacle, but with spirit. Through Hazel Flood’s journey, Compulsion Games delivers a meditative, emotionally rich adventure that taps into Black Southern culture, ancestral storytelling, and the kind of magic that can only be inherited. From its music to its monsters, this is a game that doesn’t just want to be played—it wants to be felt.
I’ve been gaming since before my PlayStation had memory cards and controllers with cords that never quite reached the couch. I’ve saved princesses, fought monsters, and traveled to the ends of digital worlds—but rarely have I seen myself in them. Not really.
And then South of Midnight came along. And for the first time in a long time, I felt something click.
Not just because the protagonist is a young Black woman with natural hair and a heavy heart. But because the game is steeped in the kind of cultural specificity that feels lived-in. Familiar. Southern. Black.
The world of South of Midnight isn’t trying to explain itself to you. It’s not filtered through the white gaze. It’s not worried about being universally palatable. It just is. And that, in itself, is revolutionary.
A Story Told Through Spirit and Soil
At the heart of South of Midnight is Hazel Flood—grieving, curious, defiant. After a massive hurricane devastates her world and takes her mother, Hazel is pulled into a surreal version of the Deep South. One where the land remembers, ghosts speak in riddles, and folklore walks on two legs.
Hazel learns she’s a Weaver—someone tasked with stitching broken souls and shattered stories back together. But her stitching isn’t clean or easy. It’s a slow, spiritual reckoning.
Unlike traditional combat-heavy games, South of Midnight invites you to move with intention. You don’t run—you glide. You don’t slash—you mend. This isn’t about power fantasies. This is about restoration.
That pacing has been a point of critique in some mainstream reviews—but for me, it’s exactly what makes the game feel so honest. South of Midnight knows that healing isn’t fast. It’s messy. It drags. And sometimes, it sounds like a blues guitar on a back porch at dusk.
Music That Haunts Like Memory
Let’s talk about the soundtrack. Because whew.
Composed by Olivier Derivière, the music in South of Midnight doesn’t just score the game—it narrates it. Swampy guitar riffs, gospel vocals, and rhythms that hum like old spirituals give the world its texture. It’s not ambient. It’s ancestral.
Each encounter, each landscape, feels like it has a pulse—and it’s always beating in time with the South. Derivière and the team brought in real blues musicians to lay the foundation, and you can feel that authenticity. There are moments when you’ll just stop walking, just to listen.
The way this game uses music as an emotional thread reminded me of how my grandmother used to hum when she was cleaning. How the sound wasn’t just background—it was memory.
Aesthetic That Honors Blackness, Not Just Decorates It
Visually, South of Midnight is haunting in the best way. It leans into what’s been called “Southern Gothic fantasy,” but through a lens we don’t often see—one that centers Black communities and the spiritual weight they carry.
The color palette is muddy, muted, overgrown. Like the land is watching you back. The creatures you meet aren’t just monsters—they’re metaphors. Some are rooted in Southern folklore (like the Altamaha-ha), while others feel like personifications of generational pain.
But what struck me most is that none of it feels like caricature. There’s no minstrel energy, no flattening. Everything—from Hazel’s mannerisms to the way elders speak to you—feels deeply respectful.
This is a Black South that isn’t begging to be saved. It’s simply asking to be seen.
Criticism That Misses the Point
If you read through mainstream reviews, you’ll notice some recurring critiques: the pacing is slow, the combat is minimal, the mechanics are “basic.” But that’s exactly what makes South of Midnight so refreshing.
Not every game about Blackness needs to be about survival in the traditional sense. Not every protagonist needs to be a gun-wielding hero with no emotional range. Hazel Flood’s strength is in her feeling. In her willingness to stop and ask why. In the space the game gives you to grieve, to listen, to float.
Yes, the controls can feel a bit stiff. Sure, the traversal might not be revolutionary. But the narrative design—the way it moves through trauma, folklore, memory, and healing—is something we rarely see in AAA gaming. It’s not about the polish. It’s about the perspective.
And from where I sit, it’s a perspective we desperately need more of.
Where to Play It
South of Midnight is available now on Xbox Series X|S, PC, and via Xbox Game Pass. If you’ve got Game Pass, it’s absolutely worth diving in—even if you’re usually into faster-paced titles. This one’s meant to linger.
Final Thoughts
South of Midnight isn’t for everyone—and it doesn’t need to be. It’s for those of us who’ve felt like ghosts in the games we love. For those who grew up with spirituals in their bones, stories in their blood, and a desire to see our reflection somewhere other than the margins.
It’s for the daughters of the South who still hear their mother’s voice when the wind whistles. For the gamers who crave depth over dazzle. For anyone who’s ever wanted to go home—and knew that home was more than a place. It was a story.
Hazel Flood’s journey isn’t just hers. It’s ours.
And finally, we get to play it.
