If the gaming industry had its way, Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 would've been buried long before players ever had the chance to fall in love with it.
Built by a small team of around 30 passionate developers (with plenty of outside help to nail things such as animations and localization, among others), most of whom broke away from the bureaucratic machine at Ubisoft, Expedition 33 is a direct slap in the face to the bloated, predictable model that rules today's AAA scene.
It's the kind of game that major publishers would have killed in a heartbeat, calling it "too risky," "too niche," or "not monetizable enough." Yet against all odds, not only did it survive, it thrived — selling over a million copies in three days, earning record-high player scores, and reminding everyone that passion beats money when it comes to great games.
Clair Obscur's very existence feels like a rebellion in itself. In an era where big publishers see creativity as a liability, a small French studio took a bold step to craft a turn-based RPG filled with style, emotion, and soul. Sandfall Interactive skipped corporate trends like microtransactions and live-service models to create a game that felt genuinely personal.
They delivered a heartbreaking story wrapped in hauntingly beautiful Belle Époque-inspired worlds, paired with a battle system that fuses turn-based tactics with real-time parrying and dodging in ways that reward actual skill. And that's exactly why the industry would have snuffed it out if they could.
Modern AAA development is a numbers game. Publishers spend hundreds of millions on single projects and are terrified of anything that doesn't look like a guaranteed return. Their obsession with "safe" strategies leads them to copy battle passes, force in multiplayer modes, and follow passing fads to extract as much money as possible from players.
In that climate, something like Clair Obscur, with no battle pass, no cash shop, and other marketing gimmicks to appeal to mass audiences, is seen not as a breath of fresh air but as a threat to the business model itself. The game represents everything big publishers have convinced themselves players no longer want — and its massive success is exposing that lie in real-time.
The brilliance of Clair Obscur lies not just in its ambition but in how much it achieves without the absurd overhead that suffocates most AAA games today. Built using Unreal Engine 5, Metahuman tools, and smart production pipelines, the game looks and feels like a top-shelf blockbuster while being made by a team smaller than the HR department at some major studios.
Despite launching alongside heavyweights like the Oblivion Remastered, it soared past expectations — topping 120,000 concurrent players on Steam and pulling in rave reviews across the board. Meanwhile, bloated projects with massive budgets and massive marketing campaigns stumbled out of the gate despite having thousands of developers and millions more in funding.
What makes Clair Obscur's success so gratifying is how it reignites a sense of wonder that many thought the industry had abandoned. Within the first hour, players are pulled into a vivid world filled with grief, hope, and a fight for survival — not by exposition dumps or cynical writing, but by believable characters who show their pain and courage without needing to explain it all away.
This game knows its players are smart enough to pick up on the story without being spoon-fed every detail. The combat's strategy is smooth and rewarding, especially for those who nail timing, positioning, and building a solid team instead of just stacking stats. For years, top publishers argued that turn-based games were a dying breed — that players had "moved on."
First with Baldur's Gate 3 and now with Clair Obscur, it's clear that the thirst for detailed, thoughtful RPGs is still very much alive. The industry just chose to abandon that audience in favor of chasing bigger, safer profits. Games that are bloated to 100 hours to justify a $90 price tag.
Expedition 33 shows that players didn't want another recycled looter-shooter or checklist simulator, they wanted something with real heart. Clair Obscur isn't just a big win for a small indie team, it's a warning for the whole industry.
It's proof that the old excuses — that creativity is too risky, that players only want shallow blockbusters, that passion projects can't sell — are dead wrong. This proves that when you cut through the business talk, players gravitate toward games that make them feel something authentic.
It could very well be a hint that if publishers don't get with the times, the future of gaming might end up in the hands of studios that actually give a damn again.
If the industry could have killed Clair Obscur: Expedition 33, they would've. But they didn't. And now they have to watch as the game they would've buried shows everyone what they've been missing.
For more articles like this, take a look at our Features and Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 page.