I was enthralled by Sandfall’s gorgeous Belle Époque-styled RPG from the moment it began, but I came this close to not playing it at all.
Almost as soon as I started Clair Obscur I knew I couldn’t get enough of its beautiful world or the wonderfully naturalistic performances of its cast. I settled in, eager to dedicate the rest of the day and hopefully all of the next to this fascinating game. And then it all fell apart in the same moment.
As you may already know, Clair Obscur mixes traditional turn-based RPG combat, everyone lined up and politely waiting around until they get to have a go, with an exciting real-time dodge/parry system. I can dodge everything. Everything. Some boss comes at my team with a sword a mile long? Yep, I can dodge that. I can even get a bonus if I manage to dodge everything, like someone got a bit of Devil May Cry in my Dernière Fantaisie.
In theory, anyway. The truth is, even though I’ve been battling virtual mythical creatures my entire life on almost every game platform ever created, I just couldn’t handle looking at Clair Obscur’s combat.
The camera kept tripping me up. It’s a busy little thing, dynamically zooming about and shifting around as swords swing and spells fly, always trying to show the most exciting angles as multiple pieces of information are hurled onto the screen from literally every direction at differing speeds.
I tried to ignore it, because of course I’m not going to let a few fancy swooshes, split-second pop-ups, a plethora of animated tells, and sudden, sharp cuts get in the way of a good story, but after forcing myself for a few minutes longer it became obvious I couldn’t continue. I had to shut the game off and stew in my own disappointment, honestly wondering whether I should just put in for a Steam refund.
The unavoidable onslaught of ever-changing visual information was more than I could bear. The presentation is so much more than just “busy” or personally irritating, it’s physically painful for me to process, like someone’s shouting directly at my eyeballs. It hurts.
If that sounds like an extreme reaction to a few camera movements: you’re probably not autistic.
I am, and for all the joy that brings into my life—like an unquenchable thirst for gaming knowledge and a fondness for the em dash—it also means some forms of stimulation are more than I can handle. Touch can be overwhelming at times, leaving me sitting in a quiet room with my hands upturned for however long it takes my body to calm down. Most kitchen appliances are too noisy, leaving me puréeing, whisking, and washing by hand.
It was only after I grumbled about my experience with Clair Obscur online, frustrated and upset, that several people kindly pointed out there was an option to disable much of the wild camera movement in the accessibility menu.
I didn’t look. I honestly didn’t even think to look. I’ve come to assume accessibility menus are for subtitles, color blind options, the odd arachnophobia toggle, and maybe some sort of “story” or “god mode” setting if we’re really lucky, serving as a handy catch-all for anyone who finds a game too difficult or tiring to engage with.
I didn’t think it’d contain anything for an autistic adult struggling with something as vague as “It’s painful when you make the camera swing around like that.”
And to be entirely fair, I’m not the kind of person the developers had in mind. The option to disable camera movement is labelled as being for people who suffer from motion sickness, and by their own description’s admission this setting makes some attacks harder to read.
They’re right. Some attacks really are harder to read, bosses disappearing skyward while the camera stays behind, forcing me to rely on half-seen special effects and audio cues to time my counters. But I love it anyway.
Because my options for playing Clair Obscur weren’t between “easier to read” and “harder to read.” They were between “I literally can’t look at the screen” and “at times this isn’t framing attacks quite right, but eh, I’ll manage.”
Imagine if the developers hadn’t bothered. Imagine if they’d decided it was probably fine and nobody was going to mention it even if it wasn’t. For me, that’d mean all that story, lost. Eight hours worth of beautiful music unplayed (and unbought). Dramatic battles left unchallenged. What a waste of Sandfall’s time, funds, and talents that would have been for me and so many other players like me.
Thanks to this toggle I have a choice, and I get to decide what I’m prepared to put up with.
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Which is what accessibility’s all about, really: Allowing as many people as possible to join in the fun, to be provided a practical suite of tools and then left to create their own solutions and compromises. Thanks to one tiny toggle I’m about 17 hours and 2000 wallpaper-worthy screenshots into Clair Obscur, and resentful that I have to work instead of playing some more.
This could honestly be my GOTY. Sandfall has got more than my money—they’ve got a new fan. Whatever they make next, I’ll be there day one.
