A haunting tactical RPG where a cursed mercenary band battles a spectral entity known as the "Painter," whose art literally warps reality. Set in a gaslamp-fantasy world ravaged by living brushstrokes, Expedition 33 blends turn-based combat with environmental manipulation—shatter ink-stained illusions, exploit shifting terrain, and outwit enemies whose weaknesses change with the Painter’s mood.

The narrative grips with existential dread: each party member bears a unique curse (aging backward, flesh turning to pigment) tied to their sins. Choices ripple through gorgeously bleak, oil-painted landscapes, though some dialogue veers into overwrought melodrama. Combat shines with strategic depth, rewarding clever synergies between cursed abilities, but late-game difficulty spikes feel unfair without grinding.

Visually, it’s a macabre masterpiece—smog-choked cities bleed into surrealist battlegrounds, while the Painter’s ever-mutating boss designs stun. The score, all creaking violins and distorted choirs, amplifies the unease. Yet pacing drags in expeditions padded with repetitive fetch tasks.

A flawed gem for fans of gothic strategy and narrative risk-taking. Not for the faint of heart—or brush.