Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 Review- A Celebration of Modern RPG Storytelling

In the ever-evolving landscape of role-playing games, Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 carves a distinctive niche. Developed by Sandfall Interactive, this French RPG eschews convention to forge its own identity—a seamless blend of artistic vision and bold gameplay innovations. Set within the surreal cityscape of Lumière, its world is as beautiful as it is grim, haunted by the shadow of public mortality. Every citizen knows the precise age of their death, a fate written each year by the mysterious Paintress who inscribes a number at the top of a lonely mountain. The ritual turns private terror into a public ordeal, synchronizing the lives—and deaths—of everyone under its spell. Against this backdrop, the narrative focuses on a determined group called Expedition 33, whose journey is marked both by grief and a restless momentum to confront destiny. Our review of Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 examines how it fares a modern RPG.

From its opening moments, Clair Obscur abandons familiar RPG trappings. There are no sprawling lore dumps or laborious tutorials. Instead, the game thrusts players into the pulse of survival and mystery, favoring lean storytelling over expository indulgence. The result is immediate: a sense of urgency that sustains the narrative pace without sacrificing depth or emotional richness. Players quickly sense that time is precious in Lumière, not only because of the ticking clock on every character’s life but due to the constant movement of the story, which rarely pauses to explain itself. It demands attention—immersing the player in mystery and atmosphere, letting the world unfold through careful pacing and minimalist design choices that evoke Surrealism.

The central premise—a society branded from birth with an expiration date—could be overwhelming or melodramatic, but the game resists these pitfalls. Instead, Clair Obscur uses this concept to pose questions about free will, purpose, and resilience under the suffocating knowledge of mortality. The legacy of failed past expeditions—even the doomed efforts of earlier groups—echoes through every scene, with the characters carrying both scars and the stubborn hope that this time, the outcome might be different.

The party members band together not just out of necessity but from a collective weariness and resolve. There’s an ever-present sense of loss, but within the narrative, humor and compassion offer brief reprieves. Campfire banter and the antics of imaginative supporting creatures like the Gestrals lend humanity to a world otherwise steeped in dread. These flashes of warmth counterbalance the predominant gloom, inviting players to appreciate the realness of emotion in bleak circumstances.

Combat stands at the heart of what makes Clair Obscur unique. Traditionally, turn-based strategy battles in RPGs can become rote exercises in number crunching or repetitive button-mashing. Here, Sandfall chooses a more dynamic route, drawing inspiration from games like Persona, Super Mario RPG, and infusing kinetic flair reminiscent of the Yakuza: Like a Dragon series. Every encounter demands attention. The system fuses classic turn-based strategy with rhythm game and timing. Players must react to carefully telegraphed enemy cues, manually executing dodges or parries at precise moments. Success requires a blend of strategic thinking and fast reflexes, transforming each battle into a tightly choreographed dance rather than a simple exchange of attacks.

What truly sets the combat apart is the way each party member brings a unique twist to the experience. Gustave, for example, uses an overcharge mechanic which stores up energy through each turn, unleashing devastating attacks if managed properly. This system rewards resource management—timing is crucial, and the inclusion of skill tree–like progression, known here as Pictos, can boost his efficacy if conditions are met. Lune, the party’s mage, manipulates the elements, while Maelle offers a multilayered stance system: switching between offense, defense, and a high-stakes Virtuose Stance that doubles her power at the cost of safety. Sciel adds a card-based magic system reminiscent of classic RPG job systems, requiring resource management and a touch of luck. The blend of these diverse mechanics keeps combat lively and unpredictable, always encouraging experimentation and adaptation instead of repetitive patterns.

Beyond individual skills, the game employs a pair of interlocking ability systems: Picto and Lumina. Rather than spiraling into overly complex skill trees, Sandfall opts for design clarity. Pictos serve as modifiers—affecting basic stats, resistances, or action points—granting passive advantages that subtly impact play style.

Lumina represents semi-permanent skills that unlock and grow with repeated use. It adds an element of long-term customization, giving players more control over their party’s development. Both systems, while initially opaque due to minimal in-game tutorialization, open up substantial strategic depth as the story progresses, rewarding perseverance. Once their possibilities become clear, they enrich combat variety and strengthen the bonds between the player and their team.

As players trek through Lumière, the city emerges not just as a backdrop but as a living character. The art design—invoking Belle Époque grandeur and Art Nouveau flourishes—renders environments that look like moving paintings. Gilded palaces fade into misty piazzas, and underwater-inspired districts ooze atmosphere, inviting both Exploration and reflection. Not every location reaches the same artistic heights, but the sense of craftsmanship remains evident, encouraging players to slow down and appreciate the delicate touches woven into each corner. This visual storytelling is matched by the video game music, an auditory tapestry that ranges from haunting piano melodies and airy vocals to surging orchestral pieces. In quieter moments, the music lingers, giving space for contemplation and amplifying every shadow of loss and flicker of hope to powerful effect.

Nostalgia doesn’t simply serve as window dressing in Clair Obscur; instead, it works as a pillar of design. Early RPG fans will recognize staples like large character sprites, pixel art overworlds, and classic exploration tools: airships, mounts, even mini-games. These elements are not included as empty homage but as living motifs, updated with modern polish. Exploration is not shunted aside in favor of rigid linearity; instead, optional dungeons, boss fights, and secrets abound for those who venture off the beaten path, evoking a spirit of curiosity that modern games sometimes lack. Sandfall walks a delicate balance between honoring tradition and pushing boundaries, allowing longtime genre followers and new players alike to find something familiar and something fresh.

Progression through the story is refreshingly disciplined. The game avoids dragging out its narrative or succumbing to arbitrary spikes in challenge. Instead, combat complexity, world diversity, and story momentum grow in tandem. Character backstories unfold naturally over time, steering clear of heavy-handed exposition. Players are given space to connect emotionally with the party, with each conversation and encounter adding nuance without derailing the adventure. It’s a rare feat—especially in a debut title—to calibrate the pace so precisely, ensuring that neither character development nor gameplay sophistication outpaces the other.

While its world is sharply drawn and systems are bold, our review of Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 agrees that the game’s story truly sets it apart.

The narrative explores mortality, grief, perseverance, and collective hope with a careful hand, never tipping into melodrama or cliché. Instead, the experience is layered: emotional moments are built up organically, often through silence, visual cues, and music as much as dialogue. Battles are often as much about what’s unsaid—the silent reckoning with one’s limitations—as about flashy moves or impressive damage.

Through the course of the journey, Expedition 33’s friendships and rivalries create an emotional tapestry that feels authentically earned. Even as the party faces despair, moments of levity—often courtesy of the lighter Gestral characters—temper the darkness and reflect the complexities of hope amid tragedy.

Still, our review of Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 agrees that the game is not immune to criticism. Some players may find themselves fighting the systems just as much as the monsters. The abundance of unique mechanics—each party member with their own combat quirks, Picto and Lumina’s layered structure, and the rhythm-based timing of battles—can be initially overwhelming. Tutorials offer little early guidance, sometimes forcing trial, error, and frustration before mechanics click into place. Even exploration, which prizes curiosity and immersion, occasionally suffers due to the lack of environmental mini-maps or clear navigation in sprawling dungeons and towns. Players may get lost, backtrack unintentionally, or spend precious time searching for their next objective. This commitment to minimal handholding, while fostering discovery, occasionally interrupts immersion and tests patience.

Combat, with its innovative timing feature, is another double-edged sword. When successful, it brings electrifying engagement: every boss fight becomes a test of reflexes and pattern recognition, every enemy cues a mini-challenge as players dodge, parry, and counter. Yet this same system creates tension when visual cues are hidden by cinematic camera angles or when timing windows feel unforgiving. It can be thrilling or punishing, depending on the player’s learning curve and tolerance for risk. This risk-reward philosophy harkens back to the days when failure meant challenge, not defeat—a quality some may find invigorating and others daunting.

The game’s narrative ambition ramps up as it enters its final phases. Climactic twists in the closing act divide opinion—some celebrate their boldness and subversions of genre expectations, while others find them abrupt. This narrative gambit reflects Sandfall’s audacity to challenge not only its genre but its audience, refusing to settle for predictable fare. It’s a reminder that stories need not always comfort; sometimes, they unsettle and push us to question both the world and ourselves.

Despite its handful of flaws, our review of Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 concludes that it stands as an important evolution in RPG design. It manages to meld detailed technical systems with strong thematic content, daring players to engage both intellect and emotion.

Whether it’s the inventive combat dance, the intricately realized world, or the careful balance between sorrow and joy, Sandfall’s debut effort signals a studio eager to stretch the medium’s artistic muscles. The experience lingers long after the credits—an exploration of what it means to live (and play) under the shadow of fate, and what beauty can be found in struggle’s midst.

For those seeking a role-playing game that blends nostalgia with forward-thinking design, and emotional honesty with gameplay depth, Clair Obscur delivers a journey that is both familiar and strikingly new. It offers no easy answers or neat resolutions. Instead, it gives players something more valuable: the feeling that their time in Lumière, walking alongside Expedition 33 beneath the painted numbers of destiny, meant something. That—even in a world where the end is fixed—every choice, every battle, and every stolen moment of joy becomes a story worth remembering.