I didn’t expect a turn-based RPG to leave me reflecting on mortality and the raw, beautiful fragility of life, but here I am. Having lost someone recently to a terminal illness, the world of Clair Obscur, where a magical force dooms everyone of a certain age to die, hit like a poetic echo of reality. It’s not just about saving the world; it’s about savoring every moment because the world might end tomorrow. And in that sense, it’s achingly real.
Developed by Sandfall Interactive, this French studio’s debut is set in Lumière, a surreal reimagining of Belle Époque Paris twisted by time, beauty, and death. The central mechanic and narrative hook is devastatingly simple: every year, a mystical being known as the Paintress marks a new number on the horizon. Soon after, every person of that age dies. Last year, it was 34. This year? 33.
You play as a member of Expedition 33, a group with nothing left to lose, tasked with stopping the countdown and maybe, just maybe, changing fate.
A World Shaped by Loss
Lumière feels alive in its decay. From haunting orphanages and quiet street musicians to hopeful researchers and grieving parents, every NPC in this world feels like they’ve already said too many goodbyes. The writing doesn’t lean into melodrama; it treats death with the quiet, aching reverence it deserves. And that makes the moments of joy, of laughter around a campfire, all the more powerful.
The game understands grief as a process, not a single emotion, but a spectrum. Each character in your party is wrestling with it in their own way: the ever-hopeful Sciel, the determined and intellectual Lune, and the enigmatic Maelle. These aren’t just archetypes; they feel like people. Their stories unfold not through exposition dumps but through shared memories, subtle interactions, and brilliantly voiced conversations. (Charlie Cox and Andy Serkis lend their talents here, among others, and their performances are unforgettable.)
Fighting Death With Rhythm and Precision
Clair Obscur’s combat system is a revelation.
At first glance, it looks like a traditional turn-based system. But what sets it apart is the reactive element; each move demands player input. Whether it’s nailing a QTE for maximum damage or timing a parry to perfection, combat feels more like dancing with death than issuing commands.
The comparison to Sekiro isn’t far off. Parrying multiple hits in a row builds AP and leads to crushing counterattacks. Miss the timing? You might eat a devastating combo. The sense of tension and release is exhilarating, and unlike any other RPG I’ve played, I never felt like I could switch off during a fight.
Each character brings their mechanics and flavor. Gustave is the bruiser with lightning-powered finishers. Lune weaves elemental spells that leave behind lingering effects (Stains) for others to capitalize on. Maelle’s swordplay revolves around shifting stances mid-fight, and Sciel manipulates celestial charges for burst damage. Learning how their abilities synergize is part of the magic.
Even dodging and positioning matter. One boss grew plants mid-fight to shield itself. If you didn’t take out the flowers in time with ranged attacks, you’d be in trouble. Another devoured your party members, forcing you to adapt on the fly.
This isn’t just combat. It’s a puzzle, a rhythm game, and a high-stakes duel all wrapped into one.
Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 – Style and Substance
Clair Obscur is stunning. From its dreamlike Parisian backdrops to grotesque, Dali-esque enemies, the art direction is jaw-dropping. There’s a painterly quality to every frame, like death itself is painting the world out of existence, one stroke at a time.
And the music? Phenomenal. Whether it’s an eerie waltz driven by accordion or a battle anthem backed by operatic swells, the soundtrack knows exactly when to break your heart or make it race.
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The Verdict
Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 isn’t just a game about fighting death. It’s a game about what it means to live when death is certain. It’s about legacy, love, found family, and the human instinct to create even when the canvas is crumbling.
In a genre that can often feel bloated with formula, Clair Obscur dares to be intimate. Dares to be bold. And above all, dares to matter.
If you’ve ever lost someone or feared losing them, this game won’t just resonate. It’ll stay with you.
Rating: 9.5/10