Posted by The Last of Us Part II is a difficult game to talk about, in no small part due to the state of media discourse. Easily the most divisive game of 2020, the project attracted fierce criticism even before release, with detailed leaks revealing a number of controversial plot points that drastically altered the status quo set by the first title. Soon after, the game came out to overwhelmingly positive critic reviews, which, ironically, only made things worse. Naughty Dog’s latest game, depending on who you asked, was either a true example of high art, elevating the medium of gaming, or an utter travesty, spitting in the face of those who loved the original.
In finally playing it however, I found myself struck by how little I agreed with either stance. I went in with a thousand different preconceived notions, and ultimately very few solid expectations. In the end what I actually experienced was a slickly made, staggeringly beautiful game with a narrative that makes some very interesting moves, but ultimately struggles under the weight of everything it has to say.
Let’s get the straightforward praise out of the way: The Last of Us Part II is an unbelievably gorgeous game, to call it an artistic achievement would be underselling the matter. I’m confident in saying that the character animation is, without hyperbole, the most impressive I’ve seen in any medium; squint your eyes at certain moments, and you could believe you’re watching live-action footage. That attention to detail extends to every facet of the game’s presentation: from the lush foliage slowly reclaiming Seattle, to the way light streams in through waving branches and dirty windows, to the subtle controller vibrations as you build new tools at a workbench. The whole experience truly is a masterclass on presentation, showing how all the little details really do add up over the course of a 20+ hour game.
It’s a shame that several sources have reported that this impressive level of detail was built up using extended periods of crunch time. Without wishing to dwell on the topic, I don’t think lengthy crunch periods are acceptable for any development cycle, and it’s especially ironic for a game like this, which could have easily been significantly shorter without losing much narrative value.
So let’s strike at the heart of the matter: the story, spoilers and all. In short, the plot kicks off when Joel, original protagonist and questionable father figure, gets brutally murdered as revenge for his actions at the end of the first game. Ellie then picks up the protagonist baton and goes out to hunt and kill the people responsible. Twist upon twist, however, when the perspective changes halfway through and players are invited to play as Abby, Joel’s killer, recontextualizing her motivations and Ellie’s own actions over the course of the narrative as she picks off Abby’s friends one by one.
Therein lies the heart of the controversy: is the story a poignant tragedy that invites reflection on the nature of violent retaliation? Or is it a hypocritical mess, too wrapped up in its own symbolism to recognize its stumblings? It’s here that my opinion diverges from both camps, as I think the narrative’s biggest issue is something more fundamental: it’s trying to do too much, and the interweaving character arcs only serve to dull whatever point it’s trying to make.
Despite the fact that both character arcs are inextricably linked, Ellie and Abby have very little in common thematically. The majority of Abby’s story is based around her conflict with The Scars, a group that is locked in a long term conflict with her community, The Wolves. By chance, she ends up rescuing a Scar child, and the two of them learn that constantly attacking another group of people for no reason isn’t a great long-term survival plan, ultimately leaving both sides to tear each other apart. In theory, this arc mirrors Ellie’s own realization that killing Abby probably isn’t going to solve her problems, but the circumstances are so different the parallel doesn’t resonate in any meaningful way.
Both Ellie and Abby have very clear, meaningful reasons to dislike each other. Meanwhile the Scars and Wolves are long past the point of specific grievances, and now attack each other instinctually, having formed various prejudices and assumptions about the opposing group over time. Abby’s realization that not every Scar is a bloodthirsty maniac is a fundamentally different climax compared to Ellie’s revelation that revenge will not bring her the emotional closure she desperately needs. Neither story feels like it complements the other particularly well, and in some ways, the parallel arcs confuse their own messages.
As an example: Ellie is isolated by her revenge quest, it drives people away and leaves her alone with no real support. Yet for the Wolves and Scars, a desire for revenge is a bonding trait, and Abby is driven away for not wanting to participate. It goes back to a fundamental disconnect between the narratives. Ellie is dealing with a genuine cycle of revenge, an obvious tit-for-tat conflict, while the Scars and Wolves are grappling with an animosity that is better described as longstanding prejudice. The two situations present similarly, but are different in key ways that make the comparison flimsy.
Beyond that, the narrative also fails to commit in a few key ways. I can hardly recall how many appraisals of the game, both positive and negative, describe how both protagonists “become monsters” by the end of the narrative, committing unspeakably horrific acts against the targets of their revenge quest. So here’s a real hot take: neither Ellie nor Abby do anything throughout the course of the story that I’d describe as irredeemable.
It’s not exactly unreasonable to want to avenge your murdered father, and many of the terrible things that happen along the way aren’t really Ellie or Abby’s fault. Both of them kill a lot of people, sure, but maybe that wouldn’t happen if the Scars and Wolves didn’t just open fire on everything that moves. Similarly, every single time Ellie kills one of Abby’s friends it plays out like this: Ellie sneaks up on them, demands to know where Abby is, they refuse to say, she says ‘tell more or else,’ they grab a weapon to attack her, and then she kills them. Same goes for Abby, who only starts busting heads after Ellie murders her entire circle of friends, and even then she doesn’t kill anyone who didn’t pose an active threat.
Each side only makes one or two decisions that are outright unjustifiable with no qualifications. Both Abby and Ellie have a moment where they brutally kill someone who is unarmed and defenseless, and Ellie’s decision to abandon her family and return to the hunt is immensely selfish. Beyond that, however, it’s difficult to point to any ‘monstrous actions’ that weren’t either taken in immediate self-defense, or have some kind of mitigating factor that makes them difficult to outright condemn.
Ultimately this makes it hard to take any kind of side in the conflict, which I suppose may be intentional, but it also means the entire narrative consists of both parties escalating until they decide to stop. Not only that, but both of them decide to bury the hatchet for completely unrelated reasons, independent of the opposing party’s actions. It raises the question of why we needed to play both sides of this story at all, and I suspect both narratives would have been better off as separate games, giving each the time to focus on their individual themes without the distraction of an entire other character arc taking up space.
Still, I prefer a story that aims high and misses the mark to a safe but bland experience, and it’s worth noting that The Last of Us Part II has some moments that really do go above and beyond. The story overall shows a commitment to quiet storytelling that most games shun, and the slower moments of character building are truly great. In particular, the final scene of the game creates a wonderful visual metaphor: Ellie, having returned home from her final confrontation with Abby, attempts to pick up her guitar and play the song Joel taught her years ago. She is no longer able to form the chords, however, having lost two fingers in her quest for revenge, and the song comes out muted and dull. Her physical injuries have reduced her ability to play the song as she remembers, neatly mirroring how her obsessive pursuit of revenge has, ironically, only distanced her further from the memory of the man she was trying to avenge. It’s a genuinely well-executed end-scene that has stuck with me long after finishing the game, and that’s more than I can say for a lot of media, especially in an era where proper endings seem to be the exception rather than the norm.
Ultimately, The Last of Us Part II is a game full of strong ideas and well-executed mechanics that don’t cleanly resolve. It strikes me as a game in serious need of an editor, someone who isn’t afraid to carve out large chunks of plot and gameplay in order to craft a more refined experience. Still, if you can stomach the rather grim tone, I recommend trying it out. At the very least, you’ll gain the benefit of forming your own opinion on a surprisingly controversial experience, and those who appreciate bold narratives will appreciate a story that doesn’t compromise its vision for the sake of mainstream appeal.