Nemesis
As if to confirm our species’ penchant for irrational hate it was only a few short days after finishing that I learnt of the death threats sent to Laura Bailey, one of the principal voice actors in The Last of Us: Part II.
It is perplexing as it is wretched, and suggests many people either didn’t play or didn’t grasp any of the themes that underpin Naughty Dog’s decidedly grim survival sequel. In it we find Ellie and Joel again some years later, living in Jackson, Wyoming, before events compel Ellie to leave the safety of home and settle accounts in blood.
You would think, with such a perverse devotion to a series or game, that some people might internalise at least some of its message. Rather it seems that the game has merely managed to highlight how some of us are doomed to find warped justifications in the most heinous of acts.
For the record I never finished the first game, unfortunately I just never clicked with either Joel or Ellie and I must admit I couldn’t bring myself to see it through as a result, eventually catching the rest via video walkthrough. Yet bizarrely, having bounced off the original so hard I found its sequel to be utterly compelling from start to finish and one of my favourite games of recent years. Go figure, perhaps another stab at the first game is now needed, maybe doubly so in the face of the shameless gushing that is to follow from here.
For what worked so well for me here was how Part II manages to present its characters as so deeply flawed, with frailties, vulnerabilities and prejudices yet treat them sympathetically. The situation into which they are thrust leads to many horrific choices but you always get a sense that they aren’t instinctively cruel or sociopathic, far from it, but rather driven by something else, be it grief, trauma, or self-preservation in a world that is almost entirely hostile to them.
The story does a great job at presenting how good people can be thrown against each other by circumstance, that events beyond our control can influence so much of how we see the world and each other and how even actions born of ill intent can yield unforeseen good. There is a very effective elaboration here on how little control we have of our lives at times, that we are often victims of our own limited perspectives, and that finding a way to keep one’s humanity and compassion is far from straightforward when everything around you is so brutal and unforgiving.
As such, I loved the characters, for they felt genuinely human for better or worse. You also get to see much more of their personalities beyond the violence, the little things that they enjoy, and the details that flesh out a personality beyond what’s required to move the plot forward. Time is taken to explore these aspects and they help to add much needed downtime and respite from the heartbreak that punctuates so much else. In fact, such moments, such as a very touching museum visit, make the incoming tragedies all the more affecting and unbearable in light of what you learn about those involved.
As with the first game, much of your time will be spent choosing violence, but I knew I was hooked into the turns in the story when in one of the later chapters I found myself suddenly determined not to kill anyone at all, instead trying very hard to get past unnoticed so as to fit the character and the emotions of the moment. Combat became something to be actively avoided despite the visceral thrill of it. It just made sense and the loss of potential supplies became hardly a consideration at all.
In fact, it’s actually quite hard to bring myself to talk about the gameplay as the story had such a hold on my thoughts post credits.
In that sense it perhaps speaks highly of it in that I have little to complain about beyond its familiarity. The cadence of its action is such that I never felt bogged down or particularly tired of it. The mixture of traversal puzzles, out and out combat and stealthy horror with the game’s infected hordes is evenly spaced and despite the near 30 hours it took to complete, kept me engaged.
It’s nothing particularly new or novel, but it helps in some measure that the game rewards the curious and the thorough; supplies, upgrade materials, notes to unlock safes, and many little side stories are discovered through exploration. Likewise taking the time to examine what’s around you allows the mood to sink in and help immerse you in the environment.
The world created here is beautiful and vast. The atmosphere of melancholy thick in this civilization brought low, where all manner of flora has begun to overrun the endless miles of concrete and rusted metal. The attention to detail is likewise impressive; the number of uniquely crafted shops and homes is laudable for such a long yet largely linear adventure, and the commitment to creating a fully lived in but now abandoned world creates a fittingly sorrowful backdrop for the many horrors that continue to unfold within it.
The technical craft is near peerless, from the motion capture to the textures to the various weather and lighting effects. Time and care has been spent all over and it’s clear that much love has been poured into making the game as polished as it can be.
The Last of Us: Part II is a true epic, a lengthy and emotionally exhausting journey with a large scope encompassing numerous themes. Plato once wrote of everyone living their own battle, and that this knowledge ought to give us pause when it comes to how we treat each other. So easy it is to not see this, to dismiss and justify our cruelty, our hate and our savagery.
Not long ago I finished Life is Strange: True Colors. In something like that I would characterise the voice of compassion and mercy as being writ large with its colours primary. Here its voice is much quieter, barely a whisper at times but no less potent, seeping through the cracks into people’s hearts. The Last of Us: Part II asks the question of what to do with it; treat it as a weakness to expunge, or treat it as a strength to guide one’s soul back from ruin.
