Acceptance, Rebellion, and the Gommage - Camus and the Prologue of "Clair Obscur: Expedition 33"
When viewed through the lens of absurdism, the opening hour of Clair Obscur reveals that embracing death and fighting against it are two halves of the same coin.
Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 is one of my favorite video games in years, perhaps my favorite since 13 Sentinels: Aegis Rim. Its blend of engaging combat, sensational music, and poignant writing won me over from the start, but this will not be a review of the game, nor will it be analysis of its ending(s). Instead, I would like to conduct a close reading of Clair Obscur’s prologue by analyzing how Lumiere’s citizens contend with death, whether it be their own or those of their loved ones. Though the events of this opening hour are soon eclipsed by more grandiose plot developments, the prologue makes a strong first impression and establishes several of the game's central themes.
On a recent episode of MinnMax’s “Deepest Dive” podcast, Kelsey Lewin asked a fantastic question about two seemingly conflicting philosophies that exist in Lumiere: “Is it braver to embrace your death or to go try to fight it?”. The response that immediately sprang to mind was whether the two were in fact mutually exclusive. This train of thought led me back to Albert Camus, the French-Algerian author who pondered very similar questions in The Myth of Sisyphus, The Rebel, and Resistance, Rebellion, and Death. When viewed through the lens of absurdism, the prologue of Clair Obscur reveals that embracing death and fighting it are two halves of the same coin, both distinctly human and equally valid forms of rebellion against the inevitable.
First, some brief background on the world of Clair Obscur: Expedition 33. Nearly 70 years before the start of the game, a cataclysmic event called The Fracture resulted in the city of Lumiere being wrenched away from the main continent and flung into the ocean by the Paintress, a huge supernatural being who guards a stone monolith on the horizon. She paints a new number on this Monolith every year, counting down from 100 to zero. It is at that moment each year that all Lumierians of that age perish, dissolving into a cloud of ash and flower petals. The citizens of Lumiere have taken to calling this “the Gommage”, the French word for scrub or erase.
Over the years, two parallel philosophies emerge: The first is that the Gommage gives each Lumierian a specific experiation date, so to speak. These deaths are inevitable and, and as a result, people should celebrate the fullness of their lives on their final day. Thus, a festival is held each year, during which there is music, dancing, drinking, and painting. Those about to Gommage are given garlands to wear about their necks, a wry spin on the blood-red petals that mark their erasure. The second school of thought is more concerned with destroying the Paintress and her Monolith, the sources of the Gommage. This leads to the creation of the Expeditions, yearly excursions launched the day after each Gommage and manned almost entirely by citizens destined to disappear in the next cycle. These quests give Expeditioners a sense of purpose during the final year of their lives should they choose to enlist. By risking it all, they have the chance to end this cycle “for those who come after”.
Part 1: The Gommage
Clair Obscur begins just before the 67th Gommage, which claims the lives of every 33 year old Lumierian. Gustave, the protagonist, is greeted by his adopted sister Maelle, who remarks that she finds the festival rather puzzling: “The Plaza is lively. Why people like to celebrate the Gommage is still a mystery to me, but, oh, well.” The rest of the Prologue is thus tasked with exploring the uncomfortable paradox at the heart of this celebration.
Gustave seeks out Sophie, his ex-girlfriend who is conspicuously wearing a garland around her neck. After an awkward greeting simmering with unresolved romantic tension, they walk towards the harbor, where Lumierians can look out across the water and face the Monolith together. Gustave’s initial attempt at small talk falls short, as it becomes clear that he has not yet come to terms with Sophie’s Gommage–not like she has:
GUSTAVE: I can’t imagine what you’re going through…
SOPHIE: I’m fine.
GUSTAVE: (sceptical [sic] grunt)
SOPHIE: I’m FINE. I’ve lived 33 good years. Look around. We’ve had our whole lives to prepare. We’re all fine. Mostly.
GUSTAVE: I’m not fine.
SOPHIE: You will be.
Throughout the prologue, Sophie’s sense of contentment (whether real or feigned) establishes a major-key countermelody against Gustave’s quiet sadness. This is where we can draw our first parallel to Camus. In The Myth of Sisyphus, Camus writes that “man stands face to face with the irrational. He feels within him his longing for happiness and for reason. The absurd is born of this confrontation between the human need and the unreasonable silence of the world. This must not be forgotten. This must be clung to because the whole consequence of a life can depend on it" (Myth 28). The universe does not particularly care about mankind, and there is no escaping death. One must grapple with the absurdity of this existence in order to derive–or, more appropriately, wrest–meaning from it.
Like Camus' version of Sisyphus, Sophie has had time to consider the life that she has lived, this life that has been circumscribed by the Paintress’ cruel and irrational indifference. Sophie cannot expect any answers or mercy from the Paintress–or, for that matter, her fellow citizens. Even if Gustave’s Expedition is successful, it will be too late for her. Thus, she must face her destiny head-on and embrace both life and death. Camus depicts man’s acknowledgement of his mortality in a similar fashion: “in that slight pivoting he contemplates that series of unrelated actions which become his fate, created by him, combined under his memory's eye and soon sealed by his death.” According to Camus, it is possible to choose happiness in the face of imminent destruction. One can look back over the sum of one’s life and, like Sisyphus, reflect that "All is well" (Myth 123). Whether one contends with an enormous boulder or the finality of death, what could be seen as a symbol of crushing defeat by traditional wisdom can instead represent an inevitability that can be accepted and overcome. Sophie makes peace with her destiny by participating in the paradoxical celebration and inviting Gustave to join her; Gustave offers her a flower for her garland, and she gladly receives it.
But Sophie is not alone. She includes her fellow Gommaged when she says that “we’ve had our whole lives to prepare. We’re all fine. Mostly.” It’s unclear whether or not the last word betrays Sophie’s own doubts, but to her larger point, the collective nature of the Gommage ensures that no one, regardless of the life they have lived, will be alone in that moment. To Camus, “the only certainty left to us is that of naked suffering, common to all, intermingling its roots with those of a stubborn hope" (Resistance 240). Sophie embodies this to a tee. She will be sharing this final moment with all of the other 33 year old Lumierians, who, despite their individual triumphs and failures, have lived each day knowing that this moment would come.
Sophie’s positivity-against-all-odds even extends to the Paintress herself. In an incredible exchange at the flower market, Sophie admits that she pities that monolithic figure responsible for generations of suffering. Gustave is understandably incredulous, joking that “only you could choose empathy at a moment like this”, but Sophie’s response speaks volumes about her state of mind:
SOPHIE: It’s one of the few choices I can make.
GUSTAVE: I couldn’t do it.
SOPHIE: It’s ok. You don’t have to.
Sophie's choice (no pun intended) mirrors Meursault's final act in The Stranger, Camus' most well-known novel. Just before sunrise, Meursault sits on the hard mattress in his cell and makes his own choice: "I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. Finding it so much like myself—so like a brother, really—I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again" (Stranger 122-123). Even in a hopeless situation, Sophie, like Meursault, refuses to resign herself to despair and nihilism; she instead chooses optimism even on the eve of her death. She accepts her fate as serenely as she can muster, holding the hand of the man she loves when the Gommage finally reduces her to mere flower petals on the breeze.
We need not imagine that Sophie is happy. The prologue ends with a heartbreaking exchange of simple facts that tells us all we need to hear:
GUSTAVE: I’m here.
SOPHIE: I know.
Part 2: The Expeditions
Sophie is survived by Gustave, a member of Expedition 33. When we reconsider his introduction, we see that he is preparing himself for a very different goal from the start.
Tracing our steps back to the opening shot, we find Gustave idly throwing rocks in the Monolith’s direction from a balcony garden. Maelle teases him by pointing out the futility of the gesture. Gustave initially responds with an equal measure of sarcasm, joking that "hobbies don’t always have to be useful. I’m enjoying the uselessness of today, and readying my usefulness for tomorrow." But his voice soon hardens: "Soon, we’ll get to do a lot more than throw rocks."
It is in their endeavors against total annihilation that Camus and the Lumierian Expeditioners find common ground. To Camus, the 20th century (up to the 1950s) had been defined by "blood and strife" (Rebel 4). What could be done to turn the tide? Camus describes a type of rebellion "whose refusal does not imply a renunciation"; rather, it finds meaning by "attack[ing] a shattered world in order to demanding unity from it." This metaphysical rebel makes "a claim, motivated by the concept of a complete unity, against the suffering of life and death" and stages "a protest against the human condition for both its completeness, thanks to death, and its wastefulness, thanks to evil" (23-24). Camus interpolates Descartes to declare “I rebel–therefore, we exist” (22). Just like Gustave, his shift from the singular “I” to the plural “we” denotes a dedication to collective rebellion. Throwing rocks alone and far from the Monolith may be an empty gesture, but on the continent–together with fellow rebels–life will gain new meaning, even if they never make it home. The Expeditions thus represent a more literal form of metaphysical rebellion, echoing Camus’ sentiments about the years that followed the second World War.
Throughout the prologue, Gustave encounters several other Expeditioners who each offer their own twists on this theme. Manon has adopted a tongue-in-cheek motto: “death comes to us all”. This truism is shared by those who Gommage peacefully at home, as seen in Sophie's brief plotline, but for those who sail to the continent, it becomes a rallying cry. If they are going to die in a year, why not spend that last year fighting for their lives and the lives of all Lumierians? If the alternative is complete destruction, waging war against the Paintress certainly seems life-affirming rather than suicidal. Where the Gommaged find meaning in spite of the Paintress, the Expeditions will find meaning in spiting her.
According to Camus, the metaphysical rebel "is willing to accept the final defeat, which is death, rather than be deprived of the personal sacrament that he would call, for example, freedom. Better to die on one's feet than live on one's knees" (Rebel 15). In fact, death has been so readily accepted by the Expeditioners as a potential consequence that they have enshrined it in another of their mottos: "When one falls, we continue". A character introduced in Act 1 (forgive me for withholding even minor spoilers here) emphasizes the importance of that first word in a particularly heated exchange. "WHEN one falls. Not if. When. [...] As long as even one of us stands, our fight is not over."
Camus further explores this idea in a 1957 interview, in which he looks back on the “fifty years of nihilism” that defined the first half of the 20th Century. With the threat of nuclear war now looming over the civilized world, he argued that even failure would constitute a noble sacrifice given the circumstances. “We have nothing to lose except everything. So let’s go ahead. This is the wager of our generation. If we are to fail, it is better, in any case, to have stood on the side of those who choose life than on the side of those who are destroying” (Resistance 245). For both Camus and the Expeditioners, life is and always will be worth gambling for, no matter the stakes.
Not all Lumierians share the same outlook, though. As seen throughout the Prologue, many citizens doubt that the Paintress can be defeated and view the Expeditions as futile. One such naysayer named Eloise scoffs at the Expedition’s recruitment banners, remarking “What a joke. All they do is leave us here to die.” When Sophie responds that a victory over the Paintress would save them all, Eloise retorts “Yeah, that’s what my father told me last year. Before he left for Expedition 34. And here we are again this year. We could have spent one more year together instead of wasting it away…” This poses an interesting edge case that seems to fall between our two absurdist interpretations of the Prologue. The Expeditioners choose to dedicate their lives to a higher purpose, but is this at the expense of their loved ones? Sophie had no choice but to Gommage, but to Eloise, her father sacrificed both his own life and his relationship with his daughter.
This doubt is shared by Lucie, a former Expedition recruit who recently changed her mind. However, her choice to do so offers a possible compromise for Eloise and her father as well as an answer to fundamental question at the heart of this entire discussion: “is it braver to embrace death or fight it?”. After the Gommage, Lucie reaffirms her choice to withdraw from the Expedition. She feels that she made the right choice because she has committed her final year to “rediscover happiness [...] This is my final act of defiance. Just like the Expedition is yours.” She doesn’t fault Gustave for his choice, nor does she try to talk him out of leaving. Instead, she recognizes that every Lumierian deserves to fight the Paintress on their own terms. Gustave still has his doubts, and he certainly would prefer to have a larger Expedition for everyone’s sake, but Lucie rightfully points out that there is no one-size-fits-all form of rebellion against the Gommage. She, Eloise, and Sophie deserve to feel content at home in Lumiere in the same way that Gustave and the other Expeditioners deserve the chance to make a difference through righteous warfare. No matter what path they take, they all dedicate what remains of their lives to defying the Paintress.
Camus would be pleased with this solution. In a stirring lecture delivered at the University of Uppsala, he describes the rebellious spirit found wherever injustice is fought, whether it be on the battlefield, within the human soul, or even on the printed page:
“If we listen attentively, we shall hear, amid the uproar of empires and nations, a faint flutter of wings, the gentle stirring of life and hope. Some will say that this hope lies in a nation; others, in a man. I believe rather that it is awakened, revived, nourished by millions of solitary individuals whose deeds and works every day negate frontiers and the crudest implications of history. As a result, there shines forth fleetingly the ever threatened truth that each and every man, on the foundation of his own sufferings and joys, builds for all” (Resistance 272).
Thus, it becomes clear by the end of Clair Obscur’s prologue that facing death and fighting it are both meaningful choices in their own ways. One could argue that only the Expeditions have the ability to change the status quo, but this does not diminish the value of a quiet, personal rebellion when viewed from Camus’ perspective. Lumiere, though shattered by the Fracture and systematically erased generation by generation, stands united in opposition to the Gommage. When each new year in Lumiere and on the continent is a fight for survival, mastering one's destiny is the bravest choice of all.
Camus, Albert. The Myth of Sisyphus. Translated by Justin O'Brien. Vintage International, 1991.
Camus, Albert. The Rebel: An Essay on Man in Revolt. Translated by Anthony Bower. Vintage International, 1991.
Camus, Albert. Resistance, Rebellion, and Death. Translated by Justin O'Brien. Vintage International, 1995.
Camus, Albert. The Stranger. Translated by Matthew Ward. Vintage International, 1989.
Clair Obscur: Expedition 33. PC version, Sandfall Interactive / Kepler Interactive, 2025.
"The Deepest Dive - Clair Obscur: Expedition 33's Opening Hours". YouTube, uploaded by MinnMax, 29 April 2025, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=or0LBQToejA.