I finished the main story and a decent amount of side content in about 35 hours, and that length speaks to how Clair Obscur doesn’t waste a moment – there isn’t really any filler along the critical path and it doesn’t get bogged down in drawn-out exposition. It makes a strong first impression, then naturally tells you more about its characters through their interactions, conversations, and expressions. While some of my favorite moments in RPGs come from the downtime that offers a chance to breathe and take in the world, there’s an embedded urgency here that cuts to the chase in a way that mostly works in its favor. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good 80+ hour RPG, but this is a nice change of pace.

Because of that shorter length (relatively speaking), the sharpness of the combat system never dulls. At a glance, you’ll get unmistakable Persona vibes from its slick battle menu and stylish flourishes. More prominent is its active element, with real-time button inputs that boost potency in spellcasting and let you avoid attacks, which keeps you engaged during enemy turns as much as your own. It’s reminiscent of the Mario RPGs or, more recently, Like A Dragon RPGs, and it works wonders for making turn-based combat thrilling – especially when so much of your survival hangs in the balance of being able to dodge and parry.

Against bosses and tougher enemies, you don’t really stand a chance unless you’re paying close attention to the audio and visual cues to establish a rhythm. When it comes to combos that have a varied cadence between hits, I’m locked in like it’s Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice, staving off a flurry of attacks to certain beats. It can be frustrating at times, especially in first attempts since there’s some trial and error in learning these attack patterns. But when I’m trying to nail down the timing, it instills an intensity I don’t think I’ve ever felt in turn-based combat. While dodging offers a wider window for execution, parrying demands more precision, and there’s nothing quite like the rewarding slow-motion camera cut and emphatic counterattack of a precisely timed parry, flipping the enemy turn to deal big damage off a free hit.

Every party member has their own specific mechanics that typically revolve around building up their unique resource in battle and managing action points (AP) to execute the more heavy-hitting skills. For example, Gustave gains charges for every hit he lands then uses those charges to increase the output of his Overcharge skill. In contrast, Lune is a mage who gains elemental stains from casting specific spells, dealing higher damage and getting access to bigger spells by stacking the right elements. Meanwhile, Maelle is all about going into different stances and has the potential to do the most damage, but the conditions in which she enters those stances can depend on status effects or the properties of the weapon she has equipped.

There’s even a card-dealing Scythe wielder in Sciel, who manages light-dark phases and card stacks to use her skills properly, almost like a combination of the Astrologian and Reaper Jobs from Final Fantasy XIV. And if that wasn’t enough, two late-game characters I won’t spoil take things even further, with one using a Devil May Cry-style grading system with attacks and dodges while the other takes spells from fallen enemies in the style of a Blue Mage. All of this gives each character a distinct identity and function that makes every turn in battle an exciting endeavor no matter who’s in your party

Their skill trees are also concise, letting Clair Obscur stay approachable since you’re only given a handful of tools and then asked to have a strong grasp of how they work. With an emphasis on meeting certain conditions and inflicting specific knock-on effects when lining up attacks, it reminds me of mechanics you’d see in a CRPG like Baldur’s Gate 3, but fine-tuned for a classic-style Japanese RPG. The way these skillsets are able to synergize and play off other party members shows an understanding of what makes a turn-based system sing. You may fall into a routine opener, but as a fight goes on, it becomes more about adapting to the myriad variables thrown at you and earning the satisfying moments of pulling off your most powerful attacks.

Then there’s another layer called Pictos, which are attachments that offer game-changing stat boosts and perks to drastically affect how you gain AP, the bonuses from dodging and parrying, the way status effects work, and more. Using Pictos for long enough eventually allows you to stack their perks in what are called Lumina, letting you build a character in ways their skill tree cannot. Navigating these menus is kind of a pain since things get messy once you’re sifting through 50+ options packed into a tight screen, but it’s something I learned to deal with and sort through once I grasped the nomenclature – and when it all clicked, taking the time to configure my party was well worth the hassle. At first I thought I’d be far too overpowered (and I was in some cases), but setting the right loadout elevated my party members in ways that were crucial for the most challenging fights.

In fact, my biggest worry early on was that Clair Obscur was going to be too easy, as I steamrolled almost every enemy in roughly the first-third of the main path – aside from a handful of optional bosses that tested my mastery of the combat system (or one-shotted me, telling me to come back in the endgame). It definitely ramps up as it goes on, however, weaving in more creative enemy attack patterns and adding layers that sometimes tease out new approaches to constructing your party and skill loadouts. It eventually struck a good balance as bosses evolved in interesting ways, either by doing more with status effects and enemy shields, or by mixing up attacks that also ask you to time a jump or hit a special “Gradient Counter” alongside the usual parries and dodges, which could make my survival in combat feel like a rhythm game.

That gives Clair Obscur enough depth without feeling unwieldy, and just enough complexity while still staying focused. And if you’re clever enough, you’re allowed to “break the game,” so to speak, as its systems let you scale up in a way that’s rewarding rather than exploitative. I’ve played these kinds of RPGs my entire life, and so I’m confident when I say Clair Obscur has one of my favorite turn-based combat systems, ever – even if it has room to grow in a potential sequel, it’s already brilliant.

There’s something very old-school about Clair Obscur, and its overworld is one of clearest ways in which it harkens back to classic RPGs. You have oversized models of your characters navigating a map filled with optional locations and secrets, many of which aren’t accessible until you unlock new travel methods, similar to getting chocobos and airships in the Final Fantasy games of yore. It’s actually really charming, embracing its video game-y aspects and knowing that it doesn’t always have to take itself so seriously. Floating islands, far off shores, or massive creatures in the distance create a sense of wonder, and eventually you can go visit them to fight superbosses, play silly minigames for unique weapons and Pictos, or uncover a bit more of the story you wouldn’t see otherwise – and that side content can account for roughly 20 hours of gameplay on top of the main story. There’s no real quest log, so there isn’t an elegant way to track what you stumble upon. But rather than feeling obtuse, it gives the impression that these secrets are yours to discover in true throwback fashion.

The main locations you visit function like dungeons where you fight your way along a fairly direct track, with extra items tucked in nooks and crannies off the beaten path. For as linear as these places can be, a minimap would have been handy, as you’ll often get lost in the winding paths that blend in with the environment. (If nothing else, I’d like one just to keep track of where I had already been.) You approach enemies to initiate combat, and they respawn if you decide to replenish your health and items at flags planted by previous expeditions that function like checkpoints. Exploration is limited in this regard, but it helps each main story sequence stay focused and consistently paced. It’s also a consolation that every place you visit is visually striking, whether it’s thanks to an ethereal whimsy and natural beauty, or the brutality of the trenches and battlefields where bodies of past expeditioners are piled high – regardless, I was often in awe of Clair Obscur’s world.

What really etches an RPG into the pantheon of greats, however, is always going to be its story. My heart was all-in on Clair Obscur’s themes of facing mortality, making sacrifices for future generations, and the different ways we handle grief. I’ve written a lot about the latter, especially in relation to the stories many recent RPGs tell, and this is another harrowing exploration of it – for the way it contextualizes time and age, but also for its portrayal of grief becoming destructive to those around you, should it consume you. Final Fantasy X is one of its main influences, and it shows, but Clair Obscur also separates itself by how it tells its story. Massive credit is due to the impeccable acting and voice performances from an A-list cast, as well as script writing and scene direction that has dialogue playing out like natural, real-life conversations – small gestures, subtle expressions, and the cadence of the line deliveries are qualities that ground its story in something that feels as real as it is fantastical.

Its brevity does work against it at times as the story shifts in sudden directions later on that somewhat undermine the initial premise. I wish it dedicated a little more time and attention to fleshing out the parts that went a bit underdeveloped, but what’s here is still powerful – especially as it relates to the ugliness that comes from processing loss, and with a certain focus on the complicated impact it has on families. There’s a thematic coherence in showing how we use art and fiction as a coping mechanism and the dangers of getting lost in it.

Despite its deeply sad premise, Clair Obscur also manages to inject some levity that is largely charming rather than forced. Silly wooden guys called Gestrals occupy most of The Continent, working as both comic relief and a lens to help understand unknown parts of the world. Your party will goof with each other and share pieces of their personal lives at camp, and while not all of it is riveting stuff necessarily, those brief moments are vital for rounding out the human element that this story channels. Admittedly, there are moments in which Clair Obscur embellishes in its sorrow a bit too much, getting a little overdramatic at times. But it’s always able to find its footing by evoking a very specific tone – one that leans heavier into what you’d expect from a theatre production than a Hollywood blockbuster. And from that perspective, playing out like a classical tragedy is an integral part of its identity.

Clair Obscur often feels like an expression of French art history, using its culture as an enticing artistic foundation (and even poking fun at itself with mime bosses and a fun accordion jig). That’s not just in the distinct Belle Epoque aesthetic or the French phrases characters use casually in conversation, but also in motifs that invoke theatre, painting, dance, and music which are woven into the very fabric of this fictional world – with music in particular being the most powerful one. Like every great RPG, an evocative soundtrack can uplift it to become a truly memorable experience, and Sandfall understood the assignment here. There’s almost too much good music, in that certain tracks didn’t even get enough time to stick in my head, but at every turn are amazing songs that hype you up for battle or set a wistful mood. With a multifaceted approach that includes string quartets, symphonic rock, moving opera vocals, and atmospheric synths, Clair Obscur’s soundtrack is stunning, and will be one of the reasons I won’t forget this game.