The Last of Us: Paranoia and Despair in Paradise

There’s something beautiful about the lush, vibrant world presented in the Last of Us. It’s abandoned. Broken. Savage. Deadly. And yet strangely gorgeous, with vegetation overflowing from every crack and corner. A sign that Mother Nature has taken back what humans have failed to protect - what humans couldn’t handle, as their society decayed and crumbled in their very hands.

I’d never played The Last of Us until now. In fact, I’d barely watched any footage. I’d stayed away from impressions. I’d not seen a demo or, to the best of my recollection, a full trailer. For whatever reason, this game had been peripheral to my interactions with the game industry, until today, when I tested to very different slices of Joel and Ellie’s adventure.

Despite the fact that Joel and Ellie have each other, the best word I could use to describe this game is “lonely.” Shells of buildings have been shattered by time. A silence hangs in the air, so foreboding that it’s almost palpable. Every object, every remnant of this lost civilization feels haunted to its core, forgotten by the people that have long since fled. Cars line the streets. Life, as any of us would define it, is gone.

That’s why Joel and Ellie stand out so much. They are the last sign of life in this evergreen wasteland. Watching them attempt to find a way out, to change their lives, is captivating. This manifests itself both in the way these two interact with each other, and in how they observe the world around them. Joel is hardened by his past, and it seems clear that he has almost let the emptiness of this desolate land swallow him whole. Yet Ellie seems to bring him balance. He cares what happens to her, cautioning her and chastising her if she ventures too far ahead. In a cutthroat world starved for resources, Joel is willing to add this young girl to his burden.

These are the sorts of observations and emotions that playing the Last of Us evokes. I didn’t know Joel or Ellie before sitting down with this game, but their connection with each other was incredibly clear, and that dynamic made each character much more interesting. And Joel’s maturity, skepticism and understanding of the threats around every corner began to echo my own. Silence was unnerving. Calmness seemed threatening. I started to crouch more often. I snuck around more corners. I used my stealth-like ‘listening’ ability to see if I could detect infected enemies or worse - other humans.

Despite the fact that I fought nothing for the bulk of my demo, I felt compelled to seek out resources. I gathered supplies to upgrade weapons, craft health kits and improve Joel’s skills. I found ammunition and discarded weapons to keep in my backpack. I found so many items and resources, and yet it was never enough. Not because I was in constant danger, but because I thought that danger might be around each and every corner. The absence of a threat created one in my mind. And with good reason - when your enemies show up, you’d better be ready.

Violence found Joel and Ellie twice, once against a horde of infected humans, and once against a group of opportunistic, savage survivors. Both were incredibly challenging in their own way, requiring different tactics and mentalities. In both scenarios I died multiple times as I felt my way through adapting and surviving.