Clair Obscur: Expedition 33

Stepping into Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 is like wandering through a city at dusk—familiar, yet tinged with a sense of melancholy and wonder that’s hard to shake. Lumière’s crumbling Belle Époque grandeur and ever-present shadows are more than a backdrop; they are a living reflection of the game’s central themes—grief, hope, and the long, uncertain path to healing. What elevates this RPG above its peers is not only its inventive mechanics but also the way it weaves narrative and gameplay into an experience that lingers, demanding reflection from anyone who values story-driven games as much as challenge and spectacle.

The premise is deceptively simple: each year, the mysterious Paintress decrees that everyone of a certain age will vanish, and this year, the number is 33. This annual “Gommage” hangs over every interaction and every quiet moment in Lumière, imbuing the world with a sense of urgency and sorrow. The writing is nuanced, letting characters reveal themselves through gestures, silences, and the weight of what remains unsaid. The cast is brought to life by an extraordinary ensemble: Andy Serkis delivers a gripping performance as a figure you’ll encounter early in the expedition, while Ben Starr—well-known for his work in Final Fantasy XVI—voices another enigmatic character whose significance unfolds as the story progresses. Charlie Cox voices Gustave, the expedition’s steadfast leader whose emotional depth anchors the story; his name is a deliberate nod to Gustave Doré, the 19th-century French artist celebrated for his dramatic engravings and illustrations of epic journeys and biblical trials—a fitting reference for a character who must shoulder the burdens of leadership and sacrifice. Jennifer English brings wit and vulnerability to Maelle, the sharp-tongued teenage prodigy. Each actor’s performance adds a layer of authenticity and resonance, making the ensemble feel as complex and memorable as the world they inhabit.

The cast stand out not because they’re larger-than-life heroes but because they’re so achingly real. Gustave’s steady resolve and Maelle’s biting humour create a dynamic that feels authentic and deeply human. Their doubts, flaws, and moments of humour ground the story, making their victories and failures feel personal. The script gives them space to breathe, and the performances are so natural that you begin to anticipate their reactions as if you’ve known them for years. Even the supporting characters—like the whimsical Gestrals, who bring a touch of levity—are drawn with care, adding warmth without breaking the emotional tone.

It’s the narrative that makes Expedition 33 so remarkable. The story never settles for easy answers, instead exploring how people respond to the certainty of loss—how they find meaning, lash out, or cling to hope in small acts of defiance or kindness. The world itself, fractured by the Gommage and haunted by the Paintress, is as much a character as any member of your expedition. Like Revachol in Disco Elysium, Lumière is a city where history and trauma are etched into every brick and shadow and where every journey is as much about confronting the past as forging a future.

If the story is the soul of Expedition 33, the combat is its pulse—fresh, demanding, and surprisingly kinetic for a turn-based RPG. Drawing inspiration from the precision and tension of Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice, the game reimagines defence as a test of skill and nerve. Every enemy attack can be dodged or parried, but the timing is unforgiving, requiring a level of focus and reflex more often found in FromSoftware games. A perfect parry doesn’t just block damage; it opens up powerful counterattacks and restores your action points, rewarding precision and daring. Dodging offers a safer, more forgiving window but lacks the thrill and tactical edge of a well-timed block. The result is a system that feels alive, where every battle is a conversation between risk and reward.

The combat system’s depth emerges through its clever use of Pictos, Action Points (AP), and the spectacular Gradient Attacks. Pictos act as customisable ability tiles, letting you tailor each character’s strengths, resistances, and special moves—much like assembling a deck in a card game, with each Picto offering unique synergies and tactical options. Managing AP is crucial: every action, from attacks to skills, drains your pool, but well-timed parries and certain Pictos can restore it, rewarding aggressive and reactive play. As battles escalate, you build up a gradient charge by spending AP or exploiting enemy weaknesses. When the meter is full, you can unleash a Gradient Attack—a cinematic, high-damage move that doesn’t consume your turn and can be chained with other abilities for devastating combos. Enemies, too, wield their own gradient attacks, and learning to counter or mitigate these is key to survival. The system’s layered complexity means that every encounter is a puzzle, demanding adaptation and experimentation rather than rote repetition.

However, not everything in Expedition 33’s design is as seamless as its combat. The menu structure, particularly when managing Pictos and Lumina, can feel awkward and unintuitive at first. Navigating between character screens, equipping abilities, or switching accessories often requires multiple redundant clicks, and the interface sometimes leaves you hunting for options that should be more accessible. With a growing arsenal of pictos and skills, the menus can become cluttered, and it’s easy to lose track of where things are or how to access certain features. While familiarity breeds efficiency over time, the initial experience is undeniably clunky, and the lack of streamlined navigation stands in contrast to the game’s otherwise polished systems.

Exploration in Lumière is both beautiful and challenging. The absence of a mini-map can be disorienting, but it’s a deliberate choice that asks you to pay attention, to remember landmarks, and to get lost and find your way again. This approach makes the world feel tangible and lived-in, even if it sometimes leads to frustration when retracing your steps. The environments themselves are a visual feast—sometimes breathtaking, sometimes haunting—and each area tells its own story, whether through the remnants of past expeditions or the shifting light of the fractured sky.

The monsters and bosses you face are as much a part of the narrative as the city itself. Their designs draw from a mix of art history and psychological symbolism, with creatures that feel like nightmares painted onto the world’s canvas. Some bosses echo the tragic, surreal enemies of NieR: Automata, while others channel the mythic, unknowable terror of Elden Ring’s most memorable foes. The result is a bestiary that’s as emotionally evocative as it is visually striking—each encounter telling its own story of loss, transformation, or defiance.

The music, composed by Lorien Testard, is a masterclass in atmosphere, and the soundtrack’s success is in no small part due to the haunting, ethereal vocals of Alice Duport-Percier. Her voice, featured on the title track and woven throughout the score, brings a human vulnerability to the orchestral arrangements. Duport-Percier contributed not only her vocal performance but also composed most of the vocal lines, shaping the emotional tone of the game’s most pivotal moments. Her singing gives the world its voice, adding a layer of intimacy and melancholy that resonates through every major story beat. Whether it’s the understated beauty of “Lights of the Past” or the sweeping duets and operatic climaxes, her presence is unmistakable and unforgettable. Ben Starr’s vocal contributions to the soundtrack further enrich the game’s emotional palette, blurring the lines between character and player experience.

What truly elevates Expedition 33 is how it brings all these elements together. The story isn’t just something you watch unfold—it’s something you participate in through every decision, every battle, and every moment of doubt or hope. Like T.S. Eliot’s “These fragments I have shored against my ruins”, the game invites you to find meaning in what’s broken, to assemble your own understanding from the scattered pieces of memory, trauma, and fleeting hope. It trusts you to find significance in ambiguity, to listen for the echoes in the silences, and to recognise that the journey is as much about the questions as the answers.