The very air in the gaming world is always in motion, filled with a constant current of anticipation for the next big release. Yet, sometimes, a particular title doesn’t just pass through; it leaves a permanent alteration in the atmosphere, a profound impact that continues to shape the digital climate. Today, my internal compass points to one such monumental, often polarizing, achievement: The Last of Us Part II (PS5 Remaster). I’m diving back into this brutal, beautiful, and relentlessly challenging world, not just for its enhanced visuals, but to confront anew its heavy themes of trauma, revenge, and queerness, and to dissect precisely what the internet still gets wrong about it in 2025.
As someone for whom the original The Last of Us is a foundational gaming memory (a narrative masterpiece that tore at my heartstrings and redefined storytelling for me), the sequel arrived in 2020 with immense anticipation, followed swiftly by a cataclysmic wave of online discourse. Now, with the PS5 Remaster (which, as I’ve previously ranted, was arguably unnecessary but provides a new lens for revisiting the journey), I find myself with a fresh perspective, removed from the immediate, often toxic, fervor of its initial launch.
The Unflinching Narrative: A Descent into the Abyss (and the Subsequent Backlash)
The Last of Us Part II is not a comfortable game. It is a grim, relentless, and unflinching examination of the cyclical nature of violence and revenge. It asks difficult questions, forces players into uncomfortable perspectives, and dares to portray humanity at its most broken, unforgiving, and tragically self-destructive. This brutal honesty, this unwavering commitment to its dark themes, was, and remains, its greatest strength and the primary source of its enduring controversy.
- The Shocking Opening: A Foundation Shattered. The game’s narrative begins with a truly seismic event: the brutal, unceremonious murder of Joel. This act, coming after the beloved character’s morally ambiguous yet protective actions at the end of Part I, was meticulously designed to provoke a visceral, immediate reaction in the player, ripping away their comfort zone and thrusting them into a new, vengeful narrative led by Ellie. This single, bold decision sparked an unprecedented torrent of outrage, hatred, and often unhinged vitriol online, largely because it was fundamentally misinterpreted as a betrayal rather than a deliberate, thematic choice. It severed the perceived safety lines players had established.
- Radical Narrative Structure: Dual Perspectives. The true genius, and ironically, the perceived “betrayal” by some within the player base, of Part II lies in its radical and audacious narrative structure. Approximately halfway through the game, it forces players to abandon Ellie’s perspective, her singular quest for retribution, and instead play as Abby, the very character responsible for Joel’s death. This audacious move compels players to literally walk in the shoes of the “villain,” to empathize with her pain, to understand her motivations, and to witness the profound humanity behind her own seemingly unforgivable actions. This deliberate subversion of traditional hero/villain tropes was a masterstroke in narrative design, a daring experiment in perspective, and utterly lost on those who refused to engage with its moral complexity, choosing instead to remain in a rigid, singular viewpoint.
- The Soul-Crushing Cost of Revenge. The overarching, pervasive theme of The Last of Us Part II is the soul-crushing, ultimately futile, cost of revenge. Both Ellie and Abby become consumed by their parallel quests for retribution, driven by a thirst for vengeance that blinds them to all else. The game unflinchingly portrays the immense physical, emotional, and psychological toll this takes on them. Their relentless pursuit of retribution leads not to satisfaction or peace, but to emptiness, further profound loss, and deep self-destruction. It’s a bleak, yet incredibly powerful, anti-revenge narrative that courageously refuses easy answers or satisfying catharsis. It’s a stark warning against the destructive path of unending vengeance.
What the Internet Still Gets Wrong: The Muddled Atmosphere of Misunderstanding
Five years after its launch, the most vitriolic dust of Part II‘s initial reception has largely settled, but the fundamental misunderstandings and deliberate misinterpretations that fueled much of the online discourse still stubbornly persist in certain corners of the gaming community.
- “They Ruined Joel!”: A Misguided Betrayal Narrative. The most common, and perhaps most frustrating, misunderstanding revolves around Joel’s fate. Joel’s death was not gratuitous, lazy writing, or a disrespectful act towards a beloved character. It was a brutal, intentional, and narratively essential act explicitly designed to serve the game’s core themes about consequence and the cyclical nature of violence. It unflinchingly reflected the harsh, unforgiving reality of the post-apocalyptic world The Last of Us inhabits, where violence is often random, brutal, and its consequences absolute, even for beloved characters who commit morally ambiguous acts. Joel’s morally grey actions at the end of Part I (saving Ellie at the cost of humanity’s chance at a cure) had profound, inevitable consequences. His death was emotionally devastating precisely because players loved him, making Ellie’s subsequent descent into vengeance understandable, yet tragically misguided. It was not character assassination; it was narrative necessity, a bold, uncompromising choice to shake the very foundations players had built and propel the story forward into its intended exploration of consequences.
- “Woke Agenda” and Authentic Queer Representation: A Prejudice Unveiled. A deeply disturbing and significant portion of the backlash against The Last of Us Part II was overtly homophobic and misogynistic, explicitly fueled by the game’s unapologetic queer representation and its strong, complex female protagonists. Ellie is openly gay, and her relationships (particularly with Dina) are not merely implied or peripheral; they are central to her character, her emotional development, and are explored with raw, unflinching honesty, passion, and complexity. Abby, a physically powerful female character with a journey that challenges conventional gender norms, also became a target. For those whose prejudices lead them to refuse to accept queer identities or powerful female leads in mainstream narratives, these elements were angrily viewed as “woke propaganda” or “forced diversity,” rather than what they truly are: authentic character development and a reflection of the diverse world we live in. This hateful reaction revealed a profound underlying prejudice, a stubborn refusal to acknowledge diverse realities and experiences in interactive entertainment. The game treats queer love with the same depth, passion, and complexity as any heterosexual relationship. It’s not a tacked-on, optional choice; it’s integral to Ellie’s identity, making the representation feel organic, genuine, and profoundly impactful. This is precisely how queer representation should be done in AAA gaming, courageously defying the notion that queer characters are just “sassy sidekicks” or disposable archetypes.
- Refusal to Empathize with Abby: A Blind Spot in Understanding. Perhaps the most frustrating narrative misunderstanding stemmed from many players’ stubborn refusal to engage with Abby’s perspective, often because they were unable to move past their initial, intense hatred for her actions against Joel. The game deliberately, and controversially, forces you to walk in her shoes, to experience her journey, to understand her profound pain, her motivations (rooted in her own loss), and to witness the complex humanity behind her seemingly unforgivable actions. It’s a challenging, uncomfortable narrative choice that demands empathy, pushing players beyond simplistic good-vs-evil binaries. To vehemently reject Abby’s journey, to refuse to see her perspective, is to miss the entire, nuanced point of the story, to remain stubbornly trapped in a singular, unforgiving viewpoint, undermining the game’s powerful thematic intent.
- Misinterpreting the Anti-Revenge Theme: Mistaking Catharsis for Glorification. Some critics and players accused the game of being overly violent, nihilistic, or even of celebrating brutality. This interpretation fundamentally misunderstands its core message. The Last of Us Part II is, at its heart, a powerful, dark, and unflinching anti-revenge narrative. It explicitly, painfully shows that violence begets violence, that retribution offers no genuine solace or peace, and that pursuing vengeance only leads to further loss, moral decay, psychological damage, and ultimate self-destruction. It’s a stark, brutal warning against the corrosive nature of unending cycles of hatred, not a glorification of bloodshed. The game’s violence is meant to be uncomfortable, to highlight its devastating consequences, not to be celebrated.
The Enduring Power: A Masterpiece That Still Resonates and Challenges
Despite the immense, enduring, and often toxic online discourse that has surrounded it, The Last of Us Part II remains, for me, a monumental achievement in gaming. Its PS5 Remaster, while perhaps an unnecessary polish for a relatively recent title, undeniably allows for a new generation of players to experience its brilliance with enhanced fidelity and a more stable performance.
- Unflinching Emotional Storytelling: It courageously dares to be uncomfortable, to push narrative boundaries, and to ask difficult, profound questions about humanity, morality, and survival in a world stripped bare. Its emotional resonance is undeniable, creating a powerful, lasting impact that lingers long after gameplay concludes.
- Masterful Gameplay and Design: The combat is incredibly visceral, brutal, and satisfying, offering distinct playstyles whether as Ellie’s agile stealth and precise archery or Abby’s raw, powerful melee and devastating strength. The world is meticulously detailed, visually stunning, and the traversal is fluid and immersive.
- Groundbreaking and Authentic Representation: Its unapologetically authentic, integrated queer characters (Ellie, Dina, Lev, Jesse) and relationships set a new, vital standard for LGBTQ+ representation in AAA gaming, treating their identities and interpersonal bonds with unwavering respect, depth, and genuine realism.
- Profound Rewatchability (and Re-playability): Even knowing the dark, painful trajectory of the narrative, the sheer narrative depth, the intricate character motivations, and the complex thematic explorations make it immensely re-playable. Each subsequent playthrough allows for deeper understanding of motivations, nuances, and the tragic inevitability of certain choices, revealing new layers of its brilliance.
The Last of Us Part II is not a game for everyone. Its darkness, its violence, and its challenging, uncomfortable themes can be profoundly upsetting and emotionally demanding. But for those willing to engage with its complexities, to brave its difficult truths, and to confront its unsettling questions, it offers an unparalleled, unforgettable, and deeply resonant experience. It’s a powerful testament to the artistic maturity of interactive storytelling, proving its capacity to provoke, to move, and to force us to reflect on the very nature of humanity and the devastating cycle of vengeance. The internet may still get it wrong, but the game’s brilliance, like a clear, powerful signal, continues to resonate and challenge all who truly experience it.
What are your thoughts on The Last of Us Part II? Did its themes resonate with you, or did you find it challenging? How do you think online discourse impacts game reception, and how do you navigate differing opinions on such impactful works? Share your perspective below – let’s discuss the ongoing legacy of this polarizing masterpiece!