Wonderful piece done by the always amazing  Kirena-Kaya

Siber, the Worldwalker belongs to me,  Siber

Check out the artist’s post here!

I’ve stated before in my piece ‘Stendhal’ that Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 has quickly become my favorite story of all time. I thought I’d write more about my experiences with it.

Of course, massive spoilers for the game ahead—if you’re playing through it for the first time, experiencing it through someone else online, or have yet to play it (you really should!)—finish your first experience with the story first. I don’t want to spoil it for you if you’re invested.

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The doorway to this world appeared unexpectedly. Siber did not hear anything about this one until it was right in front of him. He had heard from others about this one—a world about the humanity of hope and legacy. With nothing else known, he began observing the world within, and very quickly found himself inside.

The last of humanity, stuck on an island called Lumière. It was a time of grieving the loss of life that comes every year: the Gommage. Red and white flower petals lined the streets as Gustave and Sophie said their last goodbyes to each other. Once they made it to the docks, Siber knew what was next. But, he still was blindsided by the raw emotion in the scene that played out.

The world went dark. The only thing visible was the monolith on the distant horizon, lit up with a golden ‘34’. The massive mannequin at the base stood up, and Siber held his breath. With a simple hand wave, the Paintress washed away the ‘34’ and replaced it with a ‘33’. Adults around the pier disappeared. The dust and red petals they turned into blew away with the wind. When the scene finally turned back to Gustave and Sophie, tears began welling in Siber’s eyes. While he knew these people for less than an hour, he felt like he knew them all their lives. And when Sophie followed suit in disappearing, Siber knew that this was a world worth experiencing.

Gustave didn’t have much time to grieve. That night, he had to join the others like him—the ones that were like-minded. The ones that wanted to take the fight to the Paintress herself and end the cycle so that tomorrow may come. His adopted sister, Maelle, who still had plenty of time left as opposed to his one year, was joining this expedition. The next morning, Expedition 33 set out for the mainland.

They landed in a spot that was thought to be safe—a spot where the first expedition landed 67 years ago and returned from. There was confidence in their first steps onto the shore covered in darkness and fog. Then came that noise.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A white-haired man stepped out of the fog, cane tapping against the stone underneath their feet.

The expeditioners looked at him, partially in awe at the sight of someone who somehow survived the Gommage. The commander of the expedition approached the man, asking how he did. The only response was a swift swing of the cane, black and gold energy slicing through the commander’s neck, head falling to the ground.

Hell broke loose. Siber stood and watched—unable to move, unable to intervene—as every single expeditioner fell to whatever came through the fog. So much hope, so much humanity, lost within moments.

Gustave was separated from Maelle. One moment, she was there, the next, gone after another figure picked her up and ran. Gustave frantically found cover, where what was left of his comrades had the same idea. Regroup, reevaluate. It didn’t last long. The fog reappeared, and one of them was snatched. No scream, no noise—just gone.

They continued to run, disappearing one by one until Gustave was the last. A monster made of hands stood in front of him. He stood there in fear as it charged an attack and struck.

The world went black. It was at this moment that Siber realized that he could not leave this story until it was done. He swore to himself to continue. He needed to understand who the man was, who the Paintress was, and why any of this was happening.

As the first stretch of the journey came to a close, there was still much to learn about the world. He continued to walk with what was left of Expedition 33—not to lead, but to witness. Unless the world directly acknowledged his presence, he did not engage with the characters or world directly. He was there to experience and remember.

The story continued, and so did the answers. Truths about the world showed itself—a world and people inside a Canvas created by a child, used as a warzone where both sides were grieving the loss of a loved one. The Paintress wasn’t the one enacting the Gommage. The number on the monolith was a warning of the few she could save as her power waned. A warning of the Gommage and the one who would enact it every year: her husband, who wanted nothing but his family to begin healing, to step out of the Canvas and step forward with their lives with the memory of their loved one.

After every human within Lumière disappeared with a sudden Gommage, Siber stepped out. He broke his own promise. Everything he knew about this world was wrong. He thought it was a story of hope. A story where humanity prevails and lives on with the newfound future they gave themselves. He needed time to think and reevaluate what this world had been telling him this entire time. Clues to what the truth was were planted throughout the entire story to this point.

Siber thought of the visions that Maelle had of fires. Of two families. Of a brother that made a sacrifice to let her live on at the cost of his own. He thought back to a specific song on the soundtrack that sang of a brother being gone.

All of these things clicked as he stepped back in.

Siber followed the expedition through the last part of the story. A daughter and her father fought. He wanted to destroy this Canvas to prevent his wife from returning and beginning the cycle again. She wanted to preserve what was left of her late brother.

These ideals clash in one last fight. The fate of this world was decided by the daughter after her father finally let go of his plan.

But there was more still. The soul of the brother that was lost still continued to paint. The painted version of what he was, that fought alongside the expedition, was tired. What was left of his family was fighting over what was left of him.

He just was tired. He didn’t want any of this.

What came next surprised Siber. A world that had welcomed him in as a witness and never forced him to step away unless it was of his own volition, had asked him to make a choice.

Not one of the characters he was remembering in this story.

Him.

The robed figure in the corner of the scene. The jackal that had been there since the beginning of this story. The being that didn’t fit in this world that was doing nothing but watching and experiencing.

The world had asked him to make a choice. To decide the fate of the Canvas.

He thought back to his own experiences with grief. He thought back to how no matter what, the world would always spin. He remembered how hard it was to let go, but also to continue his life with the memory of the lost.

‘For the sake of the living, we must part with the dead’ is something that the father had said. Siber never thought of the father being a villain. His ideals clashed with the expedition, sure, but he just wanted his family back to begin grieving. To move on with the memory of his son.

So Siber made his choice. Not because it was easy or correct, but because he understood what it meant to keep walking. He made one last stand against the daughter, standing beside her lost brother, so that the family would begin to heal.

The ending was what he wanted, sure, but Siber still knew the consequences of the actions that were chosen.

And as the family stood around their loved ones’ grave, he wept. For the sadness that the family held. For the reality and people he condemned to oblivion.

But at the end of it all, the memory of the Canvas world and its people would be carried forward with the daughter. With him.

As he stepped out of the doorway one last time, he felt a new weight around his left arm.

A golden ribbon, marked with a ‘33’ had come back with him. Not a trophy, but an object to remember this world by.

With it, he is reminded to remember the worlds he witnesses. To walk the worlds he enters so that they may never be forgotten.