Tamires Lietti (Universidade Católica Portuguesa)

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Abstract

Split Fiction invites players to navigate the emotional aftermath of trauma through the connected arcs of Mio and Zoe. Although the game adopts dystopian/sci-fi aesthetics only partially, it fully operates within a speculative framework that questions how power, interactivity, and emotional regulation converge in digital narratives. This paper argues that Split Fiction operates through a system of affective control. Its branching structures shape moral choice, agency, and players’ psychological labor. Grief, guilt, and fractured identity unfold across different timelines that invite players to make emotionally coded decisions. Departing from game analysis, affect theory, and trauma studies, this paper interprets Split Fiction as a microcosm of governance. In doing so, it presents an analytical framework for examining trauma as an affectively governed and structurally mediated process in narrative games. Since Split Fiction requires players to inhabit moral ambiguity and confront emotional consequences embedded in the game’s design, it can be considered a case that critiques and models how technological systems mediate subjectivity, taking advantage of digital interactivity to sustain how technologies can exploit and sometimes trigger emotional work with our inner selves.

 

1. Introduction

Digital games, once regarded as mere entertainment and distraction, increasingly operate as affective narrative ecosystems. Through play and design, they invite players to negotiate imagination, empathy, and vulnerability. In the last decade, narrative-based games have become affective channels for players to communicate their emotional journeys, vulnerabilities, and healing paths (Isbister, 2016), transforming them into a tool for cultural and emotional critique.

In this specific gaming niche, Split Fiction stands out as a relevant example of the affective turn in game design. Through a branching narrative design and character-driven storytelling, it explores grief, childhood, and womanhood trauma, and unresolved guilt. Following Caruth’s (1996) notions on trauma as a belated experience, Split Fiction reflects traumatic temporal dislocation. This is expressed through the game’s non-linear structure and alternate timelines, suggesting that unresolved grief can manifest across multiple narrative ends. The game’s design externalizes grief through repetition and aesthetic form. Players are drawn into a process of emotional witnessing shaped by Mio and Zoe’s personal stories.

This research explores how Split Fiction leverages narrative multiplicity to communicate the emotional complexity of trauma and grief. In addition to offering a close reading of the game, this study adds to scholarly conversations in game studies by presenting an affect-oriented analytical model for examining how branching dialogue structures mediate trauma and emotional negotiation. The discussion frames narrative games beyond channels of representation, bringing the notion of games as affective governance systems in which emotional labor, agency, and moral ambiguity become part of their design. In doing so, Split Fiction becomes a demonstrative example of trauma portrayed as a constructed process withing interactive media, illustrating that contemporary game design can function as a social-cultural practice of reflection.

 

1. Theoretical Framework

2.1 Narratives, Trauma, and Memory

Scholars in literature and cultural studies have long considered trauma through the lenses of representation and memory. When the concept of trauma is brought to the context of interactive digital storytelling, it can be a focal point embedded in character backstories and play the role of a structural (and highly experiential) tool that players are invited to navigate. In Split Fiction, trauma is the backbone of Mio and Zoe’s narrative arcs.

Caruth (1996) views trauma as an overwhelming experience that we sometimes fail to rationally assimilate. This disconnection may result in trauma ‘coming back to us’ in indirect, daunting ways. Her insight connects well with the character portrayals in Split Fiction, as players learn about the protagonists’ traumas throughout the game and face their emotional choices and the thematic stories they create in their brains. The game’s non-linear storytelling reflects trauma’s displacement and temporal fragmentation.

LaCapra (2001) explains that trauma can easily resist linear narrative resolution and points to an important distinction between how people handle trauma; while some might ‘act out on it,’ others may ‘work through it’ to survive. In Split Fiction, the protagonists experience both modes as players advance. Some choices lead them deeper into isolation, stagnation, and self-blame, while others open space for reconciliation.

Laub (1992) explains that trauma may be experienced without a coherent narrative form. This feature is evident in the way Split Fiction doses the disclosure of Mio and Zoe’s pasts and pains, guiding players to navigate their inner worlds and put the pieces together to reveal the wholeness of their emotional truths. Rather than offering full narrative clarity from the outset, Split Fiction embraces ambiguity. Its narrative choices slowly tackle how trauma can disrupt traditional storytelling logic.

In trauma studies, notions about the individual psychic experience can be tied to an interpretation that such phenomenon can be socially and narratively constructed. Alexander (2004) explains that trauma can be cultural and not just linked to simply experiencing emotional pain – trauma can occur through the way our suffering is narrated, symbolized, and mediated in public contexts. In this sense, then trauma can be interpreted as a collective that bring recognition to shared stories about loss and pain.

Although the individual experiences of Mio and Zoe with grief and guilt are the center of Split Fiction, the game’s structure transforms these experiences into communicative and relational acts. Trauma is externalized through symbolic figures, dialogue, and fantasy worlds that help reframe personal suffering inside a broad narrative. This is in line with Alexander’s (2004) idea of trauma being a socially constructed narrative that goes beyond a psychological event experienced individually.

Additionally, van der Kolk (2014) explains that people can experience the embodied dimension of trauma, which are visceral responses that arise when our brains associate with traumatic events. This phenomenon is clear in the affective design of Split Fiction that simulates real feelings such as tension, dread, nostalgia, and other emotional discomforts as characters are played through their emotionally fraught choices.  Because its narrative design echoes the form and temporality of trauma, Split Fiction teaches players about the nonlinear and fragmented process of trauma, representing Flanagan’s (2009) idea of critical play and engagement with complex psychosociological realities.

Herman (1992) also emphasized that trauma can create a fragmented perception of time and distort narratives. Survivors often experience a confused sense of ‘before’ and ‘after’. The stories of traumatic episodes are often marked by silences, disjunctions, and loops, features heavily present in Split Fiction. This idea of disorientation aligns with Richardson’s (2002) idea of unnatural narratives, described as a module of storytelling that favors discontinuities, unreliability, and multiplicity. According to his views, this rather controversial strategy reflects irregular internal psychological states and unstable realities, which often translate to the core concept of trauma. Split Fiction makes players inhabit these fractured storylines, fostering the relationship with an unnatural narrative and triggering prosthetic memory.

Furthermore, players need to engage in emotional labor to navigate Split Fiction, a logic that goes against the most popular game mechanics, often based on more objective demands. Ruberg (2019) describes this as queer game design tied to the shift in prioritizing ambiguity, emotional labor, and unresolved feelings. This design philosophy may be unconventional, as it triggers feelings of discomfort and carries a sense of contradiction and emotional weight, exemplifying how contemporary game design can function as a site of cultural reflection and a medium for empathy, healing, and memory.

2.2 Player Engagement, Empathy, and Affect

The emotional power of games is related to their capacity to tell strong stories mixed with their ability to make players truly see themselves within those stories and feel encouraged to invest affectively in the narrative (Anable, 2018). In narrative-driven games like Split Fiction, each action directly influences the way the story unfolds and how characters act. Empathy in games can be approached from the lenses of alignment and allegiance. Smith (1995) explains that alignment is related to the level of access the audience has to a character’s internal details, while allegiance is related to the moral or emotional bond the audience may create with a character. Isbister (2016) emphasized that emotional design has a solid impact on game design, especially when it comes to facial expressions, voice tones, and dialogue discourses – features that are likely to create ‘empathic bridges’ between players and characters. In Split Fiction, the affective cues throughout the game are minimalist but effective and help construct the emotional depth experienced by the players in the format of reflective pauses in dialogues and subtle tone differences when Mio and Zoe are talking.

Affect theorists have proposed on multiple occasions that emotion in media is a social and cultural pattern surrounded by feelings. Ahmed (2004), for example, theorized that emotions are “sticky,” which means that they can be glued to objects, narratives, and bodies. In Split Fiction, grief and guilt function as affective orientations. They shape both the characters decisions and the player’s emotional journey. Following Ahmed’s (2004) perspectives, these feelings are not abstract themes; they are an embedded mechanism of the game.

This dynamic also matches the concept of empathic gameplay that, according to Bachen et al. (2021), happens when the primary tension is not based on puzzle logic or physical survival but in emotional negotiation. Empathy in games also links to Salen and Zimmerman’s (2003) notion of meaningful play, where player actions relate to broader themes and consequences. In Split Fiction, each choice carries the emotional and ethical weight of Mio and Zoe’s background, shaping tone and character growth in the game.

Remarkably, the emotional impact of Split Fiction is not tied to complex graphics – instead, it derives from rich storytelling and character development. Anable (2018) argues that affect in digital games is not linked to realism but more to personal resonance. In other words, the affective power of a game is related to how well it can awaken, trigger, and sustain lasting emotional responses in players. If this is true, then Split Fiction is a powerful example of affective game design.

 

3. Methodology and Research Design

This study combines a qualitative approach with an interpretive methodology to understand and assess how Split Fiction tackles trauma, emotional regulation, and player agency through its game narrative. The primary data focus is on textual information present throughout the game’s dialogue, but the investigation is further supported by selective integration of visual and auditory cues from gameplay.

Split Fiction’s speculative narrative tackles affect, loss, power, and technological mediation. The focus on textual data is justified by the central role that dialogue between the main characters, Mio and Zoe, has in the game’s storytelling and emotional impact. Following Murray (1997), meaning in digital narratives depends on the interplay between player choices and narrative cues. Examining dialogue in Split Fiction offers insight into how loss, grief, moral ambiguity, and identity fragmentation are articulated within the game. Visual and auditory cues (e.g., story scenario settings, side characters, clothing, posture) were selectively considered when they reinforced key emotional themes.

The primary dataset consists of a transcript of a complete game movie of Split Fiction, sourced from publicly available footage on YouTube. The dialogue includes all dialogue lines available in the narrative route followed by Mio and Zoe as they move through stages and navigate the fictitious worlds inside their mind. Thematic textual analysis (Braun & Clarke, 2006, 2019) was applied to identify recurring motifs of grief, guilt, anger, and agency. Codes developed inductively and refined with affect theory (Ahmed, 2004), trauma studies (Herman, 1992; van der Kolk, 2014), and game ethics (Sicart, 2009). As with all interpretive analyses, subjectivity was acknowledged as part of this research process. Reflexive notes were maintained during the coding to ensure consistency. The reliance on a single playthrough is a limitation; however, the data considered still enables an in-depth reading of Split Fiction’s main storyline.

 

4. Data Analysis

Before presenting the thematic findings, Table 1 illustrates the coding scheme applied across all dialogue scenes. The remaining tables appear in the annex.

Table 1: Sample coding table illustrating the structure applied across all 25 analyzed scenes.

Scene ID	M001
Character / Timestamp	Mio (21:23.000 –> 21:27.000)
Dialogue	“I wrote this a couple of years ago; it is a story about revenge.”
Emotion Type	Resentment; guarded pride
Tone / Delivery	Calm, reflective
Key Terms	revenge, past writing
Thematic Codes	Creative coping; suppressed anger
Notes	Hints at deeper unresolved issues.

4.1 Self‑protection and reluctant disclosure

One of the most striking patterns identified in the sample is how both Mio and Zoe delay the disclosure of their pain.  For instance, in snippet MZ004 (“What’s with all the debts and payments…?”), Zoe questions Mio inquisitively, but Mio answers with deflection: “Nothing… You don’t know me.” Their early conversational dynamic shows self‑protection – Mio constantly dodges the autobiographical reading of her personal life story. Following Herman’s (1992) explanation of trauma, early and minor disclosures often come before the full story. So, when Mio states, “You don’t know me,” she is creating a boundary in the narrative, showing that knowledge of her life is a privilege.

In MZ002, Mio avoids again, dismissing Zoe’s questions about the “debt villain” and the fact that his phrases “sound oddly specific.” This dynamic aligns with what Anable’s (2018) views that games mediate feelings by organizing them into playable structures. As the narrative progresses, Zoe keeps gently trying to act on emotional opening (e.g., Z001 “You seem to be carrying a lot of frustration with the world”), an approach that is in line with Isbister’s (2016) notion of subtle cues of care that can create emotional bridges between player and characters.

Even when characters speak from a fictional distance, their details remain self‑referential. Zoe’s mythic “evil Ice King that cursed the land with ice” hints at her emotional numbness due to trauma, consistent with van der Kolk’s (2014) theory of trauma and disruption. Also, Mio’s self‑positioning as an author of a “revenge story” represents a protective frame masking her wound, showing that slow revelation and emotional defense are core parts of the rhythm of Split Fiction.

4.2 Sibling loss and intense grief

Zoe’s arc is centered on sibling loss and unarticulated grief. Early recalling to places and objects (e.g., Z003 “oak tree me my sister and I used to climb”) as mnemonic loci – concrete anchors that stabilize memories about places and moments (Ahmed, 2004; Dalgleish et al., 2013). Zoe’s recollections often happen indirectly. In MZ005’s she talks about a chimpanzee she met at the zoo (“he was very lonely, and they put him down”). After learning about Ella’s passing later in the game, this snippet hints that the character is rehearsing the structure of loss without naming Ella. Herman (1992) names this as a grief discourse technique (one of the stages of grief) – it can be used by someone who wants to narrate the end of someone/something else using a more coherent, integrated story.

In snippet MZ011, Zoe admits that “Reality can be overwhelmingly harsh (…) fantasy has always been my pause button,” framing escapism as a coping mechanism. Following Salen & Zimmerman’s (2004) notions of possibility spaces in games, the fantasy worlds created by Zoe are formal structures that play the role of momentary emotional regulators. Shortly after, she confesses, “I lost her when we were twelve… one minute she was there and the next she wasn’t” – this is the moment when players recognize that Zoe uses her fantasy stories as a counterfactual therapy, creating in them the ending she wishes to have in real life. According to van der Kolk (2014), in affect terms, this is not engaging in denial; it is taking control over the loss to metabolize it via re‑narration and playing with feelings to create emotional alternatives (Anable, 2018).

Guilt is a recurrent emotion throughout Zoe’s dialogues. She claims that “Guilt infested Zoe’s heart” and that she became “haunted when Ella died.” Shortly after, Zoe reveals why Ella passed: “Because I couldn’t hold on… Ella died because of me. This reflects Ahmed’s (2004) notion of affect stickiness – guilt attaches to Zoe’s body as a residue. When Mio reassures Zoe (“It was never your fault… Your heart is ready to heal”), affect circulates outward, attaching her grief narrative to a broader narrative of fate. In this arc, Split Fiction exemplifies the stages of grief (from self-punishing to acceptance), mirroring what happens to people in real life when they navigate trauma (LaCapra, 2001).

4.3 Parental illness, anger, and the fantasy of control

Mio’s storyline begins with anger and defense. When Zoe offers, “Let me help you,” she is met with a defensive Mio who claims, “I don’t need your pity.” Gradually, players learn that Mio’s pain is because her dad was sick (“I started writing this as a way to kill time in all the different waiting rooms”) and that she used her writing as a coping mechanism. Her narrative follows van der Kolk’s (2014) notes on trauma’s body‑time demands.

As players advance, Mio reveals anticipatory grief and loss of agency (“It doesn’t matter what we try, all we can do now is wait for the inevitable”), showing that there is an indefinite and inescapable future ahead of her. Murray (1997) describes this experience as agency deprivation. A few minutes later, she states, “All I can do is write this silly story where I get to save him,” which clearly represents a shift from her real life to story‑time, where she can regain the agency and choose to save her dad.

Mio’s arc and sentences throughout the story also point to feelings of overwhelm and entrapment. In MZ009 advances, she claims to have this “anger growing” and feeling like she is “trapped and lost in the dark.” Ahmed (2004) would identify these metaphors linked to spatial contexts (inside, dark) as affective orientation, like the body is turning toward/away from intimidating futures.

As players get a full explanation of Mio’s trauma and how she carries it internally, Split Fiction introduces the character of Dark Mio, one of the game’s ‘big bosses’ that represents what Mio is fighting against: herself. In her fight against it, she says sentences such as “I imprisoned you to protect me,” enacting a fight with her internal self and self-governance (Ryan, 2006). Towards the end of Split Fiction, after players watched Zoe and Mio’s arcs come to a conclusion, they are presented with a transformation of their relationship: from weary strangers to friends, to best friends. The final dialogue hints at acceptance signals – in MZ019, Mio is facing her dad’s grave, accompanied by Zoe, and she says, “Look, Dad. I got published. Zoe claims, “He would be proud of you,” which is a compact validation of what Mio longed to hear. To close the game, in MZ020 (“At least we’ve got each other. Best friends forever”), the narrative reframes a success that does not depend on external validation of the public. Their bond echoes Ahmed’s (2004) notion of affective economies, where emotions circulate and are sustained through shared connection.

4.4 Fantasy frames other textual mechanisms

The analysis of the complete storyline of Zoe and Mio in Split Fiction shows that, across both arcs, fantasy is not just a setting but a textual strategy that regulates affect in the game’s story world. From this perspective, fantasy also plays the role of a narrative mediator that help articulate trauma to be shared withing the game world, reflecting Alexander’s (2004) view of trauma as a process shaped through symbolic narration (not just a private emotional experience).

There are many examples of this maneuver across the storyline.  In Z002, Zoe reveals that her Ice King character is allegorically related to lexicons that represent her real feelings (e.g., curse, threatened life). The focus on fantasy in Split Fiction also helps Mio and Zoe externalize their inner states through representative characters. Dragons, for instance, are recognized as symbols of chaos, destructive danger, or existential threat (Cirlot, 2001). By recollecting trauma through mythic figures, the narrative affords counterfactual survival scenarios, aligning with Zipes’ (2012) observation that fantasy externalizes internal pains and enables coping.

Split Fiction’s immersive experience is consistent with Green & Brock’s (2000) narrative transportation: the more a reader/player is transported through a story, the more they emotionally invest in it. Anable (2018) adds that games should be considered affective technologies, since their interfaces and stories can play with human feelings and embrace real-life sensations, enacted through digital characters’ storylines.

Across the dialogue corpus, strategies follow a recognizable pattern: both characters start with deflection/evasion (e.g., MZ002 and MZ004) and move to disclosure/empathy to self and others (e.g., Z001, MZ013, MZ008). In addition, both Mio and Zoe also rely on symbolic anchors and metaphors to recollect their traumatic memories (e.g., trees, the Ice King, dragons, evil bosses). In the end, both experience a relational turn that comes with validation (e.g., MZ018, MZ019, MZ020) and the relief that the burden of their trauma is no longer isolated; it has been redistributed in the form of shared, circulated support (Ahmed, 2004; Isbister, 2016).

 

5. Discussion

The coded dialogues revealed consistent word clusters and emotional lexicons that position trauma as relational, iterative, and emotionally immersive throughout Split Fiction. The noticeable recurrences attest to the fact that Split Fiction builds notions of trauma through the delivery and repetition of affectively charged words and phrases that invite players to also get in touch with the feelings that characters’ experience.

Broadly, these findings suggest that Split Fiction as a narrative game can also act as an affective governance system in which trauma can be portrayed via game pacing and dialogue, enhancing its representation within the interactive media. Hence, this study offers a replicable analytical approach to examine text and dialogue inside narrative-driven games that tackle emotional matters such as trauma and grief.

By clustering repeated terms and affective cues, it becomes clear that Split Fiction scripts trauma going beyond a one-time event – it is an ongoing experience and emotional negotiation that embraces defensiveness, moments of rupture, and healing. The coding process reveals that Split Fiction’s script carries a complex narrative architecture that tackles vulnerability and trauma-bonding to sustain character interaction.

Trauma sharing (e.g., Zoe’s memories of Ella or Mio’s mentions of her father’s illness) is not there unintentionally – they directly intensify characters’ emotional arcs.  Interpreted through the lens of cultural trauma theory, these moments are expressions of individual suffering and narrative acts that allow trauma to be contextual, externalized, and socially negotiated (Alexander, 2004). This is also in line with Jenkins’ (2004) notion of narrative architecture in games, where dialogues and spatial cues work together to scaffold immersion.

Another central conclusion that emerged from the data is Split Fiction’s consistent framing of grief and guilt. When Zoe blames herself for Ella’s loss, the emotions in her become part of the game’s world-building, mirroring what Keen (2006) interprets as ‘narrative empathy,’ which means the capacity for a fictional text to awaken affective responses related to real-life interpersonal understanding of our feelings. In Split Fiction, this happens because the game invites players to engage not just in missions and boss fights, but also in the negotiation of Zoe and Mio’s morals and affective baggage.

The coding also showed that vulnerability in the game often comes accompanied by doubtful trust and self-disclosure. Mio shifts from defensive refusals (“I don’t need your trust”) and sudden confessions about her father, creating a tension strategy where vulnerability needs to be earned. This reflects Isbister’s (2016) discussion of ‘emotional scaffolding’ in digital games, in which emotional arcs are projected to slowly develop to keep players engaged. Through the lens of affect theory, then Split Fiction shows how emotion is mobilized through both content and form. For Ahmed (2004), emotions can be ‘glued’ and ‘carried’ by bodies such as texts, dialogues, interfaces, etc. If ‘things’ – like a video game – can carry emotions and circulate them, then Split Fiction is an example of grief and trauma becoming a ‘glued’ affect within the game. However, this emotional consistency goes against the notion of branching narratives as purely choice-driven (Montfort, 2005); here, the emotional cues of the game play the role of its gravitational center, reducing the possibilities of branching the narrative in ways that are too far away from its core affective themes.

The data also showed that Split Fiction often blends familiar science fiction with dystopian tropes. However, instead of creating emotional distance – as noted by Bould (2012) that often happens in speculative fiction – it intensifies and multiplies emotional experience, since it puts players facing the internal struggles of Zoe and Mio. From a trauma studies perspective, this operates as reparative storytelling (Caruth, 2016), offering an indirect approach to traumatic memories. Zoe recreates Ella as a heroic figure to provide an alternative to her loss. Yet, the game hints at the presence of unresolvable grief in (e.g., “Does it [get easier]? No.”), challenging the reparative potential of the story, which puts the player within a context of ‘empathic unsettlement’ (empathy to the traumatic experience of others) (LaCapra, 2001).

The dialogic structure of Split Fiction shapes players’ moral positioning. Following Sicart’s (2009) argument, games are ethical objects, and agency emerges in the relational spaces as much as through choice. Zoe and Mio’s intimate disclosures invite player reciprocity that turns trust into narrative progression. Moreover, Split Fiction’s dialogues challenge the concept of player control. While players choose paths, they engage with backstory moments attached to heavy/emotional dialogue sequences. This reflects Murray’s (2017) idea that digital narratives often operate through procedural authorship, where design sets intentional conflicts that guide meaning-making in the context.

Notably, Ella’s death and Mio’s father’s disease root Split Fiction in individualized stories rather than a generalized context. Shaw (2015) notes that specificity can strengthen identification, so the sensory and spatial markers recurrent in the game (e.g., the oak tree Zoe and Ella climbed, hospital waiting rooms) anchor emotional continuity. This positions the game as a model where emotional work is a central form of procedural engagement. In Split Fiction, players experience progression not just from conquering phases, but also from connecting with the emotional insights. This is how it challenges the hierarchy in game studies that favors mechanical complexity (rule-based systems) and forgets narrative affect (Eskelinen 2001; Juul, 2011).

 

6. Conclusion

The implications of the findings go beyond Split Fiction. When personal trauma is brought to a speculative framework, the game joins titles such as Life Is Strange¹ (Don’t Nod, 2015) that bet on interactive scenarios to explore emotional complexity. These games challenge commercial tendencies that sideline serious themes (such as grief), showing that emotional vulnerability can be part of compelling narrative design. Furthermore, this research demonstrates the value of textual analysis in game studies when approached through affect theory. By examining tone, word choices, and patterns, it is possible to understand how narrative games script emotional journeys and position players as agents within them. The thematic codes applied here (e.g., grief, guilt, resilience) evidenced how central these emotions are to Split Fiction’s structure and story arcs more effective when it comes to enhancing player engagement.

In addition, the findings open space for ethical reflection on designing games for emotional impact. Following Bopp et al. (2016), when games address themes such as loss, diseases, or trauma, they must balance authenticity with care for players’ well-being. Split Fiction avoids exploitative uses of pain and trauma by framing disclosures through mutual trust sequences rather than shock or excessive dramatization. Still, the game’s narrative has intense moments (e.g., Ella’s passing), which represent a possible research avenue to understand how content warnings, player agency, and pacing can help keep the potential harm of such games low, while still betting on their differential: emotional authenticity.

In summary, this study positions Split Fiction as a compelling example of how games can use vulnerability and trauma as part of their operational design. The narrative experience provided to players does not depend on closure or a happy ending, making it ethically closer and resonant to the emotional experiences that one may encounter in real life. In doing so, Split Fiction exemplifies how interactive media can function as a narrative space where lived emotions are socially articulated and shared. It can also work as a context of experimentation with the use of complex emotional landscapes that we navigate in life in digital games.

 

End notes

1. The game sold over 20 million copies worldwide by 2023 and won multiple awards.a

 

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Authors’ Info

Tamires Lietti
Universidade Católica Portuguesa
s-tcloliveira@ucp.pt

 

Annexes

Annex 1 – Full Thematic Coding Tables

Dialogues, categories, and complete emotional mapping of the complete backstory of Split Fiction, with 32 snippets. These tables support the thematic discussion in Chapter 4, offering a transparent view of the coding framework and interpretive lens applied to the game’s emotional storytelling.

Scene ID	M001
Character / Timestamp	Mio (21:23.000 –> 21:27.000)
Dialogue	“I wrote this a couple of years ago; it is a story about revenge.”
Emotion Type	Resentment; guarded pride
Tone / Delivery	Calm, reflective
Key Terms	revenge, past writing
Thematic Codes	Creative coping; suppressed anger
Notes	Hints at deeper unresolved issues.

 

Scene ID	MZ001
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe
Dialogue	– Do you practice any martial arts? – I used to. – What holds you back? You seem healthy. – Not enough time or money lately.
Emotion Type	Resignation; mild frustration
Tone / Delivery	Casual, understated
Key Terms	time, money, health
Thematic Codes	Structural barriers; minor vulnerability
Notes	Shows life limitations affecting self-care.

 

Scene ID	MZ002
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe [32:54.000 –> 33:47.000]
Dialogue	– All you need to know is that we gotta take her out in order to liberate the city. – Yeah, I got that part, but…What’s she like? – She’s a ruthless psychopath who kills for fun. – Sounds like a real gem. – Are you finally here to pay your debt? You’re not getting shit. I decide when your shit is paid. And until the mortgage is secured, your ass belongs to me. – What is she talking about, Mio? – No, don’t mind her. – I just wrote her as a flat, greedy villain. The dialogue sounds oddly specific, though.
Emotion Type	Defensiveness; irritation
Tone / Delivery	Tense, evasive
Key Terms	debt, villain, specificity
Thematic Codes	Transference; personal history bleed
Notes	Shows avoidance in revealing a personal link to dialogue.

 

Scene ID	MZ003
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe [38:05.000 –> 38:07.000]
Dialogue	– This might actually be the first idea for a story I ever wrote down as a kid. – So, you are a country gal? – Yes, from head to toe.
Emotion Type	Nostalgia; pride
Tone / Delivery	Warm, genuine
Key Terms	childhood, first story, country
Thematic Codes	Roots and identity; creative beginnings
Notes	First time the character connects the place with identity.

 

Scene ID	Z001
Character / Timestamp	Zoe [43:05.000 –> 43:11.000]
Dialogue	– You seem to be carrying a lot of frustration with the world.
Emotion Type	Empathy; concern
Tone / Delivery	Observational, soft
Key Terms	frustration, world
Thematic Codes	Emotional reading of others
Notes	Character directly hinting at opening space for sharing.

 

Scene ID	MZ004
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe [57:27.000 –> 58:18.000]
Dialogue	– Can I ask you something? What’s with all the debts and payments in this story? – What do you mean? – I’m just curious as to what the story’s about. – I told you it’s a revenge story. – That part I got, trust me. – But what’s it really about? – Nothing. – Oh, come on. You always put a bit of yourself into what you create. – I don’t think that’s true. – Wait, so you’re telling me? – Everything we just went through wasn’t inspired by anything. – Nope. Nothing. Nothing at all. – I don’t believe you. – I don’t care. You don’t know me.
Emotion Type	Defensive; Guarded curiosity
Tone / Delivery	Initially inquisitive, shifting to evasive and dismissive
Key Terms	debts, payments, revenge story, inspiration, personal connection
Thematic Codes	Narrative concealment; Resistance to vulnerability; Creator–creation relationship; Emotional distancing
Notes	Dialogue hints at deeper personal or autobiographical roots in the “revenge story,” but Mio actively denies any connection, possibly as a defense mechanism to avoid emotional exposure. The “you don’t know me” line underscores a boundary-setting moment that resists intimacy attempts.

 

Scene ID	Z002
Character / Timestamp	Zoe [01:03:33.000 –> 01:03:48.000]
Dialogue	Once upon a time in a far-distant land, magical creatures lived together in harmony until the evil Ice King arrived and cursed the land with ice, threatening all life.
Emotion Type	Nostalgic framing; Allegorical foreshadowing
Tone / Delivery	Storytelling; mythic and dramatic
Key Terms	magical creatures, harmony, curse
Thematic Codes	Allegory for loss; Metaphorical representation of trauma; World disruption; Good vs. evil framing
Notes	This fantastical setup serves as a metaphor for a personal rupture or emotional ‘freeze’ in the character’s life.

 

Scene ID	Z003
Character / Timestamp	Zoe [01:09:23.000 –> 01:09:33.000]
Dialogue	– Mio, meet Lord Evergreen. – That’s a weird name for a leaf tree. – Yeah. I borrowed the name from an old tree me and my sister used to climb.
Emotion Type	Warm nostalgia; Sentimental connection
Tone / Delivery	Lighthearted with an undertone of affection
Key Terms	sister, old tree
Thematic Codes	Childhood memory; Sibling bond; Attachment to place; Sentimental naming
Notes	This line conveys Zoe’s personal history and her emotional tie to her sister through shared play. The act of naming reflects a preservation of memory and a way of keeping presence.

 

Scene ID	MZ005
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe [01:17:13.000 –> 01:18:36.000]
Dialogue	– Let me fill you in on the backstory. So, my sister Ella loves monkeys and I… – Like I said, you don’t have to explain it to me. – You know what, Mia? I’m getting kind of sick of your attitude. All I’m trying to do is tell you what I wrote so that we can be somewhat prepared. – Look, I didn’t mean to come off so harsh. Tell me about your sister and this Monkey King. – Me and Ella always used to visit the zoo when we were younger. And there was this really old and very lonely chimpanzee that we used to feed. Until one day…they decided to put him down. – That must have sucked. – Yeah, it did.
Emotion Type	Sadness; tenderness
Tone / Delivery	Hesitant, emotive
Key Terms	sister, zoo, loss
Thematic Codes / Notes	Shared memory; grief trigger; Sibling bond; Childhood memory; Loss; Compassion for animals; Vulnerability through storytelling
Notes	This scene blends interpersonal tension with a tender recollection, using the chimpanzee’s fate as a metaphor for loss and helplessness. It deepens Zoe’s backstory and reinforces the emotional weight of her bond with Ella.

 

Scene ID	MZ006
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe [01:24:54.000 –> 01:25:03.000]
Dialogue	– By the way, Zoe. Is this by any chance, the story submitted to Raider? – No. This is an early story of mine, from when we moved away from the countryside. – And you wrote this because you missed home? – Sort of.
Emotion Type	Melancholy; longing
Tone / Delivery	Matter-of-fact, Candid yet understated
Key Terms	story, countryside, moved away, missed home, early writing
Thematic Codes	influencing creativity; Emotional imprint of place
Notes	This moment reveals Zoe’s emotional connection to her past environment, framing her creative process as a coping mechanism for change and loss of place. The brevity of her answers suggests a reluctance to fully disclose feelings.

 

Scene ID	MZ007
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe [01:42:23.000 –> 01:43:30.000]
Dialogue	– Let me help you. – I don’t need pity. I’m fine on my own. – We have to trust each other. – My dad got sick. We’ve been in and out of hospitals. – Is that what Raider meant? – Yeah. Medical care ain’t cheap.
Emotion Type	Sadness; fatigue; empathy; support
Tone / Delivery	Raw, candid
Key Terms	trust, vent, dad got sick, hospitals, writing, financial situation
Thematic Codes	Illness in family; Emotional barriers; Reluctant disclosure; Coping through creativity; Economic strain of healthcare
Thematic Codes / Notes	Mio opens up about her father’s illness and financial stress, marking a turning point in emotional honesty. Dialogue reveals Mio’s gradual transition from defensive isolation to personal disclosure.

 

Scene ID	Z004
Character / Timestamp	Zoe [01:50:56.000 –> 01:51:00.000]
Dialogue	– You seem to be going through a rough patch up in the real world.
Emotion Type	Empathy; concern
Tone / Delivery	Soft, validating, gentle, observant
Key Terms	rough patch, real world
Thematic Codes	Recognition of struggle; Emotional attunement; Supportive inquiry
Notes	Brief but powerful, this line affirms Zoe’s perception of Mio’s unspoken struggles outside the game world. It sets the stage for deeper disclosure by validating that something is wrong without forcing a confession.

 

Scene ID	MZ008
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe [02:11:47.000 –> 02:13:13.000]
Dialogue	– You probably already guessed it, but I sort of face the story around my dad. Ever since he got diagnosed, all these visits to the hospitals, medicines, treatments…It doesn’t matter what we try; it just keeps on spreading. Seems  like all we can do now is wait for the inevitable. It might be tomorrow. Next month, six months, who knows. – Are you alone in all of this? – What about your mother, your family? – It has always just been me and my dad. All I can do is write this silly story where I get to save him. – No one should have to go through that. Much less alone.
Emotion Type	Fear; grief; helplessness
Tone / Delivery	Somber, heartfelt, confessional
Key Terms	dad, diagnosis, writing, spreading illness, coping
Thematic Codes	Parental illness; Anticipatory grief; Escapism through creativity
Notes	This is one of the most emotionally charged exchanges in the dataset.  Mio’s admission blends factual reality with metaphorical escapism through storytelling. The act  of “saving” her father in fiction becomes a  survival mechanism. The empathetic reply reinforces the emotional weight by acknowledging the injustice of what she is facing alone.

 

Scene ID	MZ009
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe [02:15:40.000 –> 02:17:09.000]
Dialogue	– You might be the first person who’s seen this side of me. I’m all used to strangers being this, I don’t know… Kind. I know, I’m such a downer. It’s just that Dad means the world to me. It’s so unfair. And there’s this anger…growing inside of me. I feel trapped, like I’m lost in the dark. I don’t know what to do. – Who wouldn’t be overwhelmed by it all? It makes you human. I really hope you and your father pull through this. – Thanks. – You know what, Mio? You’re starting to make a little more sense to me.
Emotion Type	Vulnerability; frustration; openness
Tone / Delivery	Supportive, gentle
Key Terms	dad, trapped, anger, overwhelmed
Thematic Codes	Parental bond; Emotional entrapment; Seeking understanding
Notes	Zoe’s response validates Mio’s pain, reinforcing mutual empathy and opening a path to connection.

 

Scene ID	Z005
Character / Timestamp	Zoe [02:23:40.000 –> 02:23:48.000]
Dialogue	– Okay, so this story is based on mine and Ella’s upbringing. How we grew up and overcame every obstacle together.
Emotion Type	Pride; nostalgia
Tone / Delivery	Affectionate, warm, reflective
Key Terms	upbringing, grew up, overcame obstacles, together, Ella
Thematic Codes / Notes	Sibling bond; Overcoming adversity; Shared history; Resilience through unity.
Notes	This line frames Ella as a central figure in Zoe’s formative years, tying their shared experiences to themes of resilience and unity. Revelation of the character’s traumatic routes.

 

Scene ID	MZ010
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe [02:28:54.000 –> 02:29:31.000]
Dialogue	– If you like dragons, why make them extinct? – Growing up, it felt like me and Ella against the world. But as twins, we always had each other’s backs. – Must be nice to have backup. – Yeah. And that’s the core of this story.
Emotion Type	Solidarity; gratitude; nostalgia
Tone / Delivery	Warm, reflective
Key Terms	dragons, extinct, twins, adversity, Ella
Thematic Codes / Notes	Sibling bond; Twin identity; Mutual protection; Overcoming adversity; Unity against external challenges
Notes	The dragon metaphor reinforces the precious and rare bond between Zoe and Ella, hinting at loss and emotional anchoring. Hints at the protective and supportive nature of the twin relationship.

 

Scene ID	MZ011
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe [02:37:14.000 –> 02:37:46.000]
Dialogue	– I’m curious. How come you only write fantasy? – Reality is harsh. Fantasy has always been my pause button. I get to write my stories. My happy ever after ending.
Emotion Type	Relief; reflection; escapism
Tone / Delivery	Calm, thoughtful, wistful
Key Terms	fantasy, reality, harsh, pause button, happy ending
Thematic Codes / Notes	Escapism through creativity; Coping with harsh reality; Control through storytelling
Notes	Zoe articulates the therapeutic role of storytelling, choosing fantasy as a mechanism to construct hope amidst chaos.

 

Scene ID	MZ012
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe [02:49:26.000 –> 02:49:56.000]
Dialogue	– Do you and Ella still hang out? – Not really, but I talk to her daily. – Where did you draw inspiration for the soul? – I suppose it’s an ode to those we lost.
Emotion Type	Love; grief; nostalgia
Tone / Delivery	Tender, nostalgic, bittersweet
Key Terms	Ella, daily contact, inspiration, ode
Thematic Codes	Enduring sibling bonds; Processing loss; Memory as creative fuel
Notes	The line links present-day connection with Ella to the theme of loss, showing that the inspiration for creative work is rooted in honoring the memory of people who are gone.

 

Scene ID	MZ013
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe [03:10:54.000 –> 03:13:19.000]
Dialogue	– I kind of needed a break from all of my own dark thoughts. That’s why I wrote this story. Ella would have loved it. –  Would have? – Yeah. I lost her when we were twelve. There was an accident. We were playing, and one minute she was there, and the next she wasn’t. After that, everything changed. We became hollow. My family. My childhood. Me. – But in this story…You made sure you both survived. A chance to grow up together. – I just hoped that with time it would get easier. – Does it? – No. – Hey, this whole story, this whole adventure…It’s such a beautiful way to honor your sister. – What do you mean? – You wrote Ella like a complete badass dragon. – That is exactly how I wish I would be remembered one day. I just wanted to write her a different ending.
Emotion Type	Grief; longing
Tone / Delivery	Emotive, bittersweet, tearful
Key Terms	Ella, loss, accident, childhood, survival, honoring, different ending
Thematic Codes	Coping with traumatic loss; Rewriting reality through fantasy; Sibling love and memorialization; Narrative as emotional healing; Alternate endings for closure
Additional Notes	One of the most emotionally resonant moments. Zoe reframes her sister’s death through storytelling, giving Ella a heroic afterlife. Writing becomes both a memorial and a fantasy of healing. The exchange also reveals how creative work can be an act of mourning and resilience, blending fantasy empowerment with real grief.

 

Scene ID	M002
Character / Timestamp	Mio [03:25:55.000 –> 03:26:16.000]
Dialogue	– It’s fascinating how the subconscious works. Nowadays, I only compete against myself. One’s biggest enemy is usually oneself.
Emotion Type	Reflection; Self-awareness; Resilience
Tone / Delivery	Thoughtful, philosophical, calm
Key Terms	subconscious, against myself,  biggest enemy
Thematic Codes	Self-confrontation; Personal growth;  Introspection; Cognitive reframing
Thematic Codes / Notes	This moment conveys a shift from external conflict to internal struggle, framing the self as both adversary and challenge.

 

Scene ID	M003
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Evil Mio [03:33:29.000 –> 03:33:30.000]
Dialogue	– I have this uneasy feeling crawling down my spine. We’re pushing deeper into my subconscious to rescue a prisoner we don’t even know. I believe this once was a part of me. I imprisoned you to protect me.
Emotion Type	Anxiety; Self-protection; Vulnerability; Fear
Tone / Delivery	Uneasy, introspective, confessional
Key Terms	uneasy feeling, subconscious, prisoner
Thematic Codes	Self-alienation; Inner conflict; Trauma defense  mechanisms; Identity fragmentation
Notes	Mio frames her past self as a “prisoner,” signaling dissociation and the compartmentalization of trauma. The subconscious journey metaphor underscores a speculative inner landscape where identity

 

Scene ID	M004
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Evil Mio [03:41:57.000 –> 03:42:06.000]
Dialogue	– No one will hurt us ever again! I will burn the world for how it treated Dad!
Emotion Type	Rage; protectiveness
Tone / Delivery	Explosive, intense
Key Terms	hurt, burn the world, Dad
Thematic Codes	Familial loyalty; Trauma response; Revenge  motivation; Protective aggression
Notes	This outburst signals a peak in emotional intensity, where personal grief over the father’s treatment transforms into a broader, almost apocalyptic, desire for retribution. Highlights the intertwining of personal trauma with  destructive impulses.

 

Scene ID	M005
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Evil Mio [03:43:20.000 –> 03:43:23.000]
Dialogue	– I won’t rely on you anymore. I will wash away the sorrow. I am breaking the chains!
Emotion Type	Defiance; Liberation; Empowerment; Anger
Tone / Delivery	Intense, resolute, cathartic
Key Terms	sorrow, breaking chains
Thematic Codes	Overcoming inner darkness; Breaking free from emotional captivity; Self-determination; Confrontation with the self
Notes	This is a pivotal moment of self-assertion for Mio, symbolizing an emotional turning point.  The confrontation with Dark Mio represents the internal struggle against despair and trauma,  reframed as a battle for autonomy and release. The language evokes imagery of emancipation, signaling a shift from victimhood to agency.

 

Scene ID	MZ014
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe [03:46:15.000 –> 03:46:33.000]
Dialogue	– So, this is what it feels like, hey? – Conquering your inner demons. – Having a friend. – Friend? You mean best friend. – Don’t push it.
Emotion Type	Relief; Connection; Healing; Cautious Affection
Tone / Delivery	Warm, slightly playful, tentative
Key Terms	inner demons, friend, best friend, emotional connection, trust
Thematic Codes	Overcoming trauma through relationships; Building trust; Emotional vulnerability masked with humor; Healing through companionship
Notes	A tender moment that blends vulnerability with humor, marking emotional progress through relational support. Blends vulnerability with levity. Humor here acts as a shield, softening the exposure of deep feelings.

 

Scene ID	MZ015
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe, [03:54:11.000 –> 03:54:15.000]
Dialogue	– This was my old childhood home, but we moved out a long, long time ago. – Tell me about that old oak tree. You know that Ella used to climb.
Emotion Type	Nostalgia; Loss; Fond Remembrance
Tone / Delivery	Reflective, tender
Key Terms	childhood home, oak tree, Ella, memory, past
Thematic Codes	Memory as emotional anchor; Connection between place and personal history; Sibling bond; Longing for the past
Notes	Home and the oak tree symbolize emotional stability and pre-trauma innocence. A memory space that binds identity and grief. The dialogue evokes a warm yet bittersweet recollection of the past.

 

Scene ID	MZ016
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe, [03:57:43.000 –> 04:03:45.000]
Dialogue	– How long had you guys lived there? We moved when I was 12. Was it before or after the… accident? – These statues are getting creepier. It’s all twisted and warped. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I have all of this inside of me. – I still have no theories on why — only that this darkness seems to have been left unchecked for a long time.
Emotion Type	Grief; Shock; Self-confrontation
Tone / Delivery	Hesitant, vulnerable, unsettled
Key Terms	accident, darkness, twisted, warped, unchecked emotions, loss
Thematic Codes	Trauma recollection; Avoidance of direct pain; Internalized grief; Confronting the shadow self; Psychological burden
Notes	The first part cautiously references the accident, signaling deep emotional pain tied to a  specific loss (Ella). The second part shifts to visceral imagery of statues and darkness as  metaphors for unprocessed trauma and suppressed emotional turmoil, suggesting a  blending of memory and subconscious manifestation.

 

Scene ID	Z006
Character/Timestamp	Zoe, Spiritual Animals as her parents  [04:04:31.000 –> 04:04:55.000]
Dialogue	– Guilt infested Zoe’s heart. It became haunted when Ella died.
Emotion Type	Guilt; Grief; Haunting memory
Tone / Delivery	Calm, firm, somber, reflective, heavy
Key Terms	guilt, haunted, Ella
Thematic Codes	Survivor’s guilt; Lingering trauma; Emotional haunting; Identity shaped by loss
Notes	Direct acknowledgment of how Ella’s death became a defining emotional wound for Zoe, framing her grief as an ongoing haunting that infiltrates her identity and worldview.

 

Scene ID	MZ017
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe, [04:07:47.000 –> 04:08:41.000]
Dialogue	– Is this your home?   – It became haunted when Ella died. So we left it to rot.  Well, because of me. Because I couldn’t hold on. – What do you mean? I couldn’t hold on. We weren’t supposed to go to the river. But I convinced her. The wet stone. She slipped, and I couldn’t hold on.  – It was an incident… – No! Ella died because of me.
Emotion Type	Grief; Guilt; Sorrow
Tone / Delivery	Shaken, Confessional, anguished,  self-condemning
Key Terms	haunted, Ella, river, slipped, couldn’t hold on,  death, blame
Thematic Codes	Survivor’s guilt; Childhood trauma; Self-perceived culpability; Haunting spaces
Notes	Zoe’s dialogue reveals deep-seated self-blame and an inability to reconcile with the accident,  tying the physical abandonment of her home to unresolved emotional trauma. The repeated  “I couldn’t hold on” intensifies the sense of moral and emotional weight she carries.

 

Scene ID	Z007
Character / Timestamp	Zoe/Spiritual Animals as her parents [04:15:21.000 –> 04:15:23.000]
Dialogue	– I can’t take this anymore!
Emotion Type	Overwhelm; Desperation;  Emotional breaking point
Tone / Delivery	Explosive, raw, urgent
Key Terms	Can’t take
Thematic Codes	Emotional collapse; Loss of control; Accumulated stress
Notes	This outburst signals a tipping point in the character’s emotional resilience, linked to the trauma she has long endured. The brevity of the line heightens its impact and heavy distress.

 

Scene ID	MZ018
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe [04:19:11.000 –> 04:19:23.000]
Dialogue	– It was never your fault, Zoe. You have to stop blaming yourself. – I’ll try. – Your heart is ready to heal.
Emotion Type	Reassurance; Relief; Hopefulness
Tone / Delivery	Gentle, compassionate, supportive
Key Terms	never your fault, stop blaming, ready to heal
Thematic Codes	Forgiveness; Self-compassion; Emotional healing; Release of guilt
Notes	This exchange represents a key turning point in Zoe’s arc, transitioning from guilt to acceptance. The supportive reassurance invites vulnerability,  while the final line signals emotional readiness to move forward.

 

Scene ID	MZ019
Character / Timestamp	Mio/Zoe [04:38:11.000 –> 04:38:22.000]
Dialogue	– Look, Dad. I got published. – He’s proud of you. I’m proud of you.
Emotion Type	Pride; Love; Affirmation
Tone / Delivery	Warm, tender, celebratory
Key Terms	Dad, published, proud
Thematic Codes	Parental bond; Achievement; Validation; Emotional connection
Notes	This moment proves Mio’s need for her father’s approval and love, blending personal accomplishment with familial pride. It reinforces the emotional impact and intimacy, and how much she wanted to be good and do good for him.

 

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