Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 - A Love Letter to Art Itself

2025-05-15

Spoilers: The intent of this article is not discuss the story in great detail, however it assumes a knowledge of the plot and makes references to these plot elements. Therefore if you have not played the game and don't want it spoiled, stop reading here.

Sandfall Interactive's Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 will undoubtedly be remembered as a classic. While many aspects of the game received praise, what truly stands out are the breathtaking visuals and gripping storyline. This is a tale of an existential quest for survival, and at the center of this conflict, players are confronted with key themes framed within the context of humanity: love, loss, purpose, and value.

Central to the development of this story are key notions concerning the world of art that players are led to believe is reality. These ideas include Chroma, Lumina, the Canvas, and the soul of a being imbued in art. Expounding upon each one in depth:

• Chroma serves as both a currency and a way to affect change in the Canvas. It is analogous to how one might use paint in our world, but in the Canvas, it is the very essence of the world itself. What is so incredible about this is that creations of the Canvas can themselves wield Chroma within a limited capacity.

• Lumina, although less obviously explained, exists as a way for Chroma to be captured and, in a sense, mechanically wielded, perhaps akin to how magnetism interacts with electricity. More than anything, the development and use of the Lumina converter illustrate a kind of basic agency of the inhabitants of the Canvas world to manipulate Chroma in a logical fashion.

• The Canvas appears to be an actual canvas; however, its ink (likely Chroma) appears to move indeterminately, and upon interacting with the Canvas, one can actually enter it—that is, the world within the Canvas. One's strength as a Painter more or less determines their supernormal ability within the Canvas itself. However, 'painted' creations, people, and beings who solely exist in the painting, especially those who wield Chroma, seem to be able to 'paint' entirely on their own.

• It is well understood by the Painters, those that create Canvases, that the act of creating a Canvas actively imbues a piece of your soul into the painting, extending your existence beyond your physical death in the real world. This was the case with Verso, and as such, it is an irrevocable aspect of why the Dessendre family is tearing itself apart over the last fragment of their lost family member, Verso.

All of these ideas together yield a complex framework of interleaved parts that suggest that these Canvases—possessing inhabitants with agency, a form of self-preservation past death in the 'real world', and a complex lifecycle that completes itself without a Painter's intervention—are in fact other worlds entirely. Worlds that can be manipulated by Painters, indeed, but otherwise worlds entirely on their own. And what's more, is not a goal of art itself a basic form of self-preservation beyond our limited human existence?

To this point, we consider what is value. This is central to the game, as players must confront the destruction of the Canvas in order to "save" the Dessendre family. Players are presented with two options: destroying the Canvas and releasing Verso's soul, or recreating the Canvas and inhabiting what some consider to be an "artificial" world. Therefore, considering the value of what is the Canvas partially depends upon a subjective opinion of value itself according to the player.

Conservative and rationalist mindsets liken the Canvas to opiates—a figment of the imagination that allows for a numb, painless experience. Meanwhile, open-minded individuals may consider the value of the inhabitants or simply want Alicia/Maelle to be comfortable, feeling she does not deserve to be uncomfortable. But then again, perhaps even the title of the game suggests the hidden nuance in what appears to be black (obscur) and white (clair) in nature.

Essentially, to confront these decisions, players must accept that this reality is or is not real. But even this must be dissected further to ascertain what being 'real' actually means. Based on Descartes' criteria, the world in the Canvas must be 'real'. Several other indicators, such as agency, memory, and the ability to die, suggest that the Canvas is 'real' in a relative sense. However, the true determining factor perhaps lies in the subjective value we place on our existence in that realm.

And so we face the questions of value and power. Here, I urge readers to consider the following questions:

• Why do we wake up every day?
• If you had everything you could ever want, what would you do?
• Does being wealthy eliminate your sense of purpose or drive in the world?

These questions are intrinsically linked to the core values, beliefs, and ideas that make our existence human but also drive the choices players make at the end of this game. The black-and-white option to destroy or not destroy the Canvas hinges upon whether the player intrinsically views struggle as inherent to the world, without which there is no need to exist. But the complex interplay (as the title suggests) firmly establishes one idea but asks an adjacent question. The idea being, "Humanity is not without art." And the question being, "What is the value of humanity?"

So, for all this, the final message to be understood is that nothing is more human than to love, destroy, and create art that is an expression of our soul past life, and anything less is motivated by temporary strife. Therefore, I can confidently say that Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 is, in fact, a love letter to art itself.