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by kevanh79 | May 18, 2025 - Reading time: 11:26 minutes

I didn’t expect Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 to be the game that sucker-punched the AAA scene in the gut, but here we are. A bold, surreal RPG that didn’t ride in on a wave of trailers or promised to redefine the genre. It just showed up, did its thing, and somehow hit harder than titles with ten times the budget. 


While most big-budget releases are bloated with features nobody asked for, live service glue, and a battle pass stapled to every UI screen, this one took the opposite route. No overblown marketing blitz. No flashy influencer campaigns. No desperate buzzwords trying to sell you early. Just a strange, confident, and visually arresting experience that actually respects your time and attention. Imagine that!


I wanted to grab it on day one, but I couldn’t. The physical edition sold out almost instantly. That alone says plenty. Not thanks to influencers or deluxe bundles packed with plastic clutter, but through sheer word of mouth and genuine interest. I could’ve picked it up digitally, sure, but something about it told me this was one of those rare games that deserved a place on my shelf. Not buried in a launcher. Not left forgotten in a backlog. And when I finally held the disc in my hands, I knew I had made the right call. 

From the start, I could tell this was different. No bombastic intro. No epic trailer energy. Just a quiet, confident beginning that immediately pulled me in.

GRAPHIC DESIGN:

The game is an absolute visual treat. Even on my PS5 console, the art style and architectural design shine. Environments feel thoughtfully built, from the elegant lines of Belle Époque-inspired structures to surreal dreamlike zones filled with decay and color. I often catch myself just standing still to soak it in. That doesn’t happen often in modern RPGs, where environments blur together after a few hours of checklists and filler. 


The visual identity of each area brings something different. Lumière introduces quiet, damaged elegance with broken statues, cracked walkways, and a sky that always feels like it might rain. The beach that follows has a sun-bleached ruin vibe that sells the melancholy right away. From there, the path winds through ancient ruins and moss-covered stone. The architecture shifts toward broken monuments and crumbled watchtowers, with the Ancient Sanctuary standing out as a solemn centerpiece. It feels sacred but uncertain, as if the world forgot what it was built for. Then comes Gestral Village, a different flavor entirely. Its mismatched rooftops and carnival palette feel like a painting mashed with a fever dream, yet it works. 


Enemy design really impressed me. These aren’t random beasts dropped in for combat’s sake. They feel connected to each region. Flying Waters, for example, features aquatic, flowing enemies that match the tone of the area. It makes the world feel more coherent and grounded in its own logic. I haven’t seen how far the theming goes yet, but if it holds up across the rest of the game, it's a smart thread that ties things together. There’s intention behind everything, like someone actually asked, “Why should this be here?”


Particle effects definitly deserve credit also. Sparks, shimmering dust trails, paint bursts, and ethereal swirls bring motion and flair to every fight and scene. They reinforce the game's dreamlike tone and painterly vision. It’s not aiming for realism. It’s aiming for personality and visual expression. That creative choice is directly responsible for every encounter, every frame, and every strange little detail you stumble across in the world, turning even the smallest moment into something that feels crafted, deliberate, and alive. 


The consistent art direction carries so much of the emotional weight. Every visual element feels crafted with purpose. Nothing looks borrowed. Nothing feels generic. It’s as if the team built their world from sketches and instinct rather than our usual trends. For a game without a blockbuster budget, it looks bold, cohesive, and unforgettable. Clair Obscur isn’t just good-looking. It’s distinct, and that’s what makes it brilliant. 

Every visual element feels like it belongs. Like it was made for the world, not borrowed from a generic fantasy pack.

SOUND DESIGN:

The soundtrack deserves just as much praise as the visuals. Whether it’s the somber piano tones echoing through ruined courtyards, eerie strings layering tension before a fight, or thunderous orchestral swells mid-battle, every note feels like it belongs. It’s atmospheric without being overbearing. Nothing screams “look how epic this is.” It just settles into the moment and enhances it. Some tracks genuinely gave me chills. It’s one of those rare cases where I’ll be tracking down the OST after the credits roll, not for nostalgia, but because the music stands on its own. Bold, emotional, immersive, and worthy of its own spotlight. 


Sound effects carry the same careful intention. Weapon clashes have weight. Spells shimmer with layered tones. Even footsteps sound distinct depending on surface and pace. There’s a tactile feel to everything, and it helps the world feel more alive. The soundscape is doing a lot of emotional heavy lifting here without making a huge scene about it. It just quietly elevates everything around it with a lot of grace and clarity.


Voice direction also impressed me. I switched to the French voice track early on, and honestly, I haven’t looked back. That’s not a knock on the English dub. It’s very competent and strong in places. But the French voice acting clicked better for me. It matches the tone of the world: theatrical, poetic, and unapologetically French in all the right ways. Dialogue flows more naturally. Emotion feels grounded and believable throughout. It feels like this version was built first, with care and intention, and everything else came after.


It’s not just about which cast is better. It’s about which voice fits the soul of the game. And for Clair Obscur, French doesn’t just fit. It completes the picture. The cadence, the rhythm, the emotional weight, it all lands differently. It feels like the dialogue was written to be spoken in French first, and when you hear it that way, the world feels more alive, more honest. You’re not just playing through lines. You’re hearing a culture breathe through every script with texture, sincerity, and quiet dramatic strength and subtle nuance.

Sound doesn't shout for attention. It lingers, elevates, and wraps the world in atmosphere. From haunting piano notes to the crackle of spellfire, every layer feels placed with care.

NARRATIVE:

NARRATIVE:

NARRATIVE:

From the first few minutes, I knew I was in for something different. It doesn’t kick down your door screaming “epic” with exploding camera angles and a trailer voiceover. It just starts. Quiet. Confident. And in those first scenes, it had more emotional weight than most eighty-euro titles with seven expansion packs and a roadmap to nowhere. What stood out wasn’t volume or spectacle, but how grounded it felt. Every moment seemed carefully placed, to speak. 


The atmosphere carries the story. There’s no rush to feed you exposition through endless logs or codex spam. It respects the player’s ability to piece things together. That’s something many modern games have forgotten how to do. Clair Obscur trusts you to observe, to feel, and to connect the dots yourself. 


There’s a big difference between a game that’s vague and one that carries mystery with intent. Clair Obscur gets it. It draws you into the unknown, not because it withholds answers, but because it knows when to stay quiet. That silence becomes part of the storytelling, and it lingers in your thoughts after each chapter. You’re left with questions that feel earned, not manipulative.

NARRATIVE:

NARRATIVE:

Not everyone on this expedition is here for the same reason. Some joined much earlier, others were called upon as intended, and that choice carries weight. It adds a sense of fate and tension to even casual scenes. People carry history here, and the writing doesn’t shy away from letting that bleed through. Small moments hit with unexpected depth because they’re earned, not forced. 


One particular relationship stands out: a bond shaped by guardianship, silence, and a history that neither character can quite put into words. Their connection frames some of the story’s most powerful scenes, not because it’s shouted, but because it’s felt. The restraint is what makes it work. Every pause, every look, every word, feels like it belongs and carries something unspoken.


You begin to notice how choices ripple through every interaction. One character’s confidence might mask uncertainty. Another’s control slowly cracks under pressure. And in the space between what’s said and what’s shown, you find the emotional center of Clair Obscur. It’s not just a narrative. It’s a rhythm you follow by instinct. It pulls you along not with answers, but with feeling. 

GAMEPLAY:

 

The game doesn’t explain every detail, and I’m glad. It does walk you through the mechanics, but it does so without breastfeeding you like a toddler with dripping boogers. Everything is folded into the flow of the game. Clean, contextual, and confident. No flashing arrows. ...


No endless pop-ups. Just smart pacing that trusts you’ll catch on!


Finally, a game that teaches you how to play without treating you like you just discovered fire. Everything is baked into the early narrative. You learn by playing. Not by reading walls of UI or listening to a character monologue about how to press square. Even later in the game, when something new pops up, it’s integrated into the moment, not tacked on like a tooltip from another game. No immersion-breaking windows. No insult to your intelligence. Just good design.


 Combat is actually fun. Turn-based, yes, but with a bit of urgency to it. You’ve got timed inputs, narrow dodging windows, and just enough real-time pacing between turns to keep your brain on. It’s not a snoozefest of basic attacks and meter management. You’re expected to pay attention. And when you do, you’re rewarded. Enemies don’t just stand there waiting to be hit. They act differently, push you to adapt, and keep things interesting. I wasn’t expecting this much variety, and here it is, showing up casually without thirty-minute dev diaries hyping it. 

 

This one earned my trust. Every mechanic, every challenge, it all unfolds in the moment, taught through play, not pop-ups. You’re not just following instructions. You’re learning by doing, adapting by instinct, and that’s what makes it tick for me!

 Now, it’s not flawless. Movement feels a bit stiff at times, especially when sprinting. There’s this weird pause when stopping that breaks flow. The music sometimes drops out when it should be building tension, and lip sync on PS5 is... there. It exists. Let’s leave it at that.


But here’s the thing: none of these issues break the experience. They’re just the kind of scuff you expect when a team focuses on what matters instead of polishing what doesn’t. And in a sea of forgettable AAA bloat, this game remembers what games are really about: atmosphere, intention, surprise, and soul. 


It’s rare to find something this bold, this visually distinct, and this emotionally tuned without a mountain of marketing behind it. This isn’t a title that begs for your attention. It earns it. Quietly. Elegantly.


And for those who notice it, it just might be the game they’ll carry with them long after the credits roll.

It doesn’t just want to be played. It wants to be remembered. Not for its tech or scale, but for its tone. A strange, beautiful dream that lingers. It’s proof that games don’t need to shout to leave a mark. Sometimes they just need to whisper the right words at the right time.


And honestly? I hope they never make a sequel. Let this one live on its own terms. Let it remain untouched, untainted by the pressure to do it again. Because some stories don’t need a follow-up. Some games deserve to be one-of-a-kind. Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 is one of them.

WRITERS NOTES

This game didn't waste my time. It respected it. No map vomit, no endless chores — just careful pacing, artful execution, and moments worth remembering. 

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