The Last of Us Part II: If I Ever Were to Lose You

 

"If ever I were to lose you, I'd surely lose myself"

(*Spoilers Ahead*) 

Those 11 short words put into perspective everything that The Last of Us Part II's tale aims to achieve. No other tagline has captured the essence of a story quite like Pearl Jam's 'Future Days' did with Naughty Dog's latest game, as the ~25 hours it takes to reach its conclusion is a poignant lesson in the fight to maintain our goodness when faced with immense adversity.

Ellie's journey is undoubtedly about revenge, and in blindly following a lust for vengeance after a vicious attack on a person she holds dear. Her morality is constantly compromised. Maintaining her sanity, rationality and compassion as she meticulously hunts down those who wronged her is as challenging as the pursuit of 'justice' that she embarks upon.

Few emotions override our sense of right and wrong, and when grief is forced upon us by the heinous actions of a single individual we surely lose a piece of ourselves in the hunt for retribution. Ellie's innocence is abandoned when she sets her sights on the pacific northwest in search of Abby, the woman who murdered her closest companion.

Ellie's grief-stricken actions mirror Joel's selfishness at the closing stages of the first game. Her journey echoes the original's belief that heightened emotions ultimately prove the undoing of any person's moral code, regardless of how good we believe them to be. Though this is a thread that both titles undoubtedly share, it's perhaps also where the tonal similarities end.

In fact, The Last of Us Part II's shocking contrast in overall tone from the first is perhaps why the sequel is so justified in its existence. The first building upon the ideals of companionship, survival and, eventually, hope, whereas the follow-up journey being the direct antithesis focusing on loss, grief and retribution.

Joel's selfish actions in the closing chapters of the 2013 original were irredeemable. Condemning humanity to an eternity of fear, hopelessness and immense danger the moment he removed Ellie from her operating table, his relationship with her moving forward was destined to be a murky mess of unsure stares and avoiding questions. 

The moral ambiguity of Joel's decision created so many different perspectives of how his character changed at The Last of Us' gut-wrenching conclusion, so anything more than a cameo in the follow-up would have felt completely out of place. It's not an uncommon belief that Joel's decision to save Ellie was a shocking descent into villainy, as his own happiness took precedent over the fate of the world. Killing Marlene at point blank range was, to many of us, Joel's Jack Napier to Joker moment; the bullet lodging into his adversary like Joker plunging into the vat of acid.

Every clicker, every bitten soldier or wounded civilian rested entirely on Joel's shoulders; a cursed world that could have been saved, if not for the man who refused to give up his newly-regained fatherhood, and decided that the world wasn't worth the price of losing another daughter.

The pair found happiness in Jackson, and Joel found the contentment we'd only ever known him to have prior to the outbreak. We see in the museum flashback that his instincts as a survivor were being surpassed by the reintroduction of being a father, so when he naively wanders into the room that would see his end, he does so with the softened heart of a man who had seen half a decade of relative normality. 

His death is sickening. The foundation of the game's tone is reliant on the player's disgust that the character we'd grown to love had been so viciously taken from us, and the efficiency --as well as extreme brutality-- of the act was a startling reminder that this world has the potential to bring out the very worst in what's left of its inhabitants. There were no fireworks, no telltale signs and no epic music to indicate our friend would be sentenced to a heroic death. The execution was profoundly honest, and anything other than a grounded, realistic approach to Joel's death would have greatly hindered the story that rests so heavily on his demise. 

Ellie's inability to save her friend (something she had done so desperately in Colorado 5 years prior) mirrored our own inability to do so. No dialogue bubble appeared, no button prompts to undo the scene and no colours available to select that would mean his saviour. 

Joel is gone.

At the time, the character who would swing the club that drains the life from Joel's eyes had little development, which was vital to maintain Ellie's (and our own) blind, irrational rage for the first half of the story. To the player and Ellie alike, there was nothing that could justify the actions of the killer, so when she embarks on a journey to Seattle, Washington, she does so with the understanding that the perpetrator is nothing more than a thug who must be relieved of their life.

There's a wonderful interaction between Ellie and Dina in the first day of Seattle, where Dina suggests Abby may have been killed by the infected, and Ellie's immediate reaction is that it wouldn't be justice that her end would be at the hands of a universal threat that's suffocating the entire world. 

The contrast between Dina's 'either way she'll be dead' and Ellie's displeasure that it could be a possibility is one of the first indications that Ellie's personality has been altered by the tragedy. Ellie is a far more complex character this time around. Now 19 and as deadly as she is persistent, Ellie has had adulthood thrust upon her as a result of the infection's hold on humanity. The story is always aware of her age, however, so can take liberties with her decision making, as she is still fundamentally just a teenager. We see throughout that Ellie has to make tough, adult decisions on a daily basis but scenes like the snowball fight in Jackson, the weed farm at Eugene's and the kiss with Dina prove that Ellie is --and always has been-- susceptible to youth-like actions. 

For three long, arduous days, Ellie pours over the stunning Seattle landscape, traversing through grassy knolls, towering structures and gushing water rapids, slaughtering every member of the Washington Liberation Front (WLF) she can find. A classic revenge tale, packed with immense brutality and countless ethical violations that films like Kill Bill and John Wick have trained us to love. Breadcrumbs are always left on the trail (often in the form of wonderfully edited, acted and designed cutscenes), with Ellie's meticulous hunt for Abby and all things WLF taking centre stage of the game's first portion. 

It's nothing we haven't seen before (much like the first game), but it's the way in which the somewhat familiar tale is presented that elevates the story to new heights. Naughty Dog have never been one to revolutionise storytelling. Their incredible attention to detail and uncanny ability to weave pockets of narrative brilliance into a simple story has always been their greatest strength as a studio, and I was thrilled to discover that it's once again on display here. There's something incredibly satisfying about a by-the-numbers revenge movie, so when Naughty Dog decorate a somewhat formulaic quest for vengeance with emotionally compromising, immensely thrilling and visually stunning set pieces, it's no wonder the critical and commercial success for the company was as sky-high as it ended up being. 

Abby's journey is substantial, if a little unexpected (despite the game's second trailer featuring only Abby, Lev and Yara). Her development through the very same three days leading up to her confrontation with our heroine is tremendously different to the revenge-driven rhetoric that we'd experienced through the first ~15 hours and our time with Ellie. Abby's story is far less rigid and has the susceptibility to shift its focus according to the situation she's in. Unlike Ellie who has only revenge on her mind, Abby's goals are always subject to change, with Yara and Lev's addition drastically altering the character's motivations. I truly enjoyed the fluid, situational nature of Abby's story, as Ellie's journey in Part II as well as Joel's story in the original both had a fundamental goal that needed to be achieved. With the latter examples, points A and Z were set in stone, with the conclusion of each being the purpose of the story's existence. Abby's evolving loyalty to Lev and Yara shifted the purpose of her journey immensely, however, so taking the character on a quest that didn't already have a date with destiny kept my time with the character fresh and exciting.

 

On a gameplay level, playing as Abby in the game's second half juxtaposes Ellie's outnumbered predicament greatly by giving the player the unique opportunity to feel somewhat powerful in this world for the very first time. Joel is a seasoned survivor and Ellie's conditional knowledge of her harsh surroundings are enough to get by, but playing as a key member of a state-wide militia grants the player the feeling of strength that we otherwise wouldn't have experienced. Through Abby, the player has the opportunity to push back instead of feeling like the underdog, and though the game does continue to throw obstacles in your path, Abby's stature both physically and socially within the WLF does enough to evoke an --albeit slight-- sense of power in an increasingly hostile world.

Much like the first game, the player is never given the gift of complacency, instead piling the pressure high with enemy encounters of increasing difficulty. Thankfully, gameplay has been tweaked to facilitate the more non-linear level design, with dedicated jump, dodge and prone buttons to add variety to the encounters. The combat in the original was satisfying, albeit simplistic, but the sequel clearly takes inspiration from the likes of Metal Gear Solid or Horizon: Zero Dawn and offers a more extensive array of options when it comes to dispatching enemies. 

It's a change that's born of necessity, as the structure of the environments and how Ellie can interact with them is far more expansive this time around. A welcome change that offers a new layer of strategy to the gameplay.

All this praise doesn't mean, however, that The Last of Us Part II is perfect.

Creating a game as ambitious as this is was always going to amass its fair share of issues. Each story beat is more ambitious than the first game, and while the 2013 title was a far tighter tale, offering amazing narrative moments dotted along a somewhat linear path, the narrative scope of the sequel is far wider, with more story threads being introduced. It's a change that I was impressed to discover had been made, but the looser focus on one core narrative and higher emphasis on multiple narrative arcs means that a few underwhelming moments are inevitable. 

Dina's pregnancy initially feels like a lazy plot device to make Ellie venture further into Seattle alone, Jesse's sudden appearance in the city is never explained and the 'Rattlers(?)' in Santa Barbara are never fully fleshed out, unlike the WLF and Seraphites. They feel extremely unimportant as a result, only providing yet another obstacle on Abby and Ellie's respective journeys. Like the band who never knew quite when to stop, the California conclusion of the game extends the story in a way that it simply never needed, only really becoming interesting during Ellie and Abby's final confrontation. It's a shame given how gorgeous the sunny streets of California are, especially as they so wonderfully contrast with the never-ending greyness of Seattle's skyline.

Criticisms aside, the immense graphical fidelity, stunning environments and wonderfully realised dystopian take on the world we once knew are perhaps the game's greatest strengths. 

Taking a technological hub like Seattle and subjecting it to a quarter of a century of decay, large amounts of abandonment and a raging civil war between polar opposite factions was a task that required immense imagination as well as a detailed understanding of the city itself. Pressure from the pacific breaks the coast into islands, separated by tumultuous ribbons of water rapids barrelling through the city streets and vast, desolate bodies of open sea where the famous Seattle wind wreaks havoc on any boats wishing to cross. The changes to the city that time has forced somehow feels profoundly plausible while also providing so many awe-inspiring moments, further contributing to The Last of Us' grounded, yet amazing scenery.

At the risk of sounding like a traditional 'review', it's abundantly clear to me that The Last of Us Part II is an incredible display of how wonderful character development and a constantly gripping tone can elevate a story --and experience-- to new heights. The core narrative is hindered somewhat by the studio's ambition and non-linear approach to storytelling, but the characters that inhabit the world (both new and old) as well as its constantly impressive tone justify its existence tenfold. With The Last of Us we have an amazing self-contained story that delves deep into the lengths we'd go to protect those we love, and with its sequel a wonderful continuation of Ellie's progression into adulthood.

In truth, finishing The Last of Us Part II gave me a similar feeling when I rolled credits on Red Dead Redemption 2. 

Not only are there plenty of scenes that stay with the player long after the credits roll, but the feeling of powerlessness to stop what's to come is a strength that both games have in spades, and the distinct lack of any true choices make both games' core narratives far more thought-provoking. Both have their shortcomings, and both are far too long, but that nagging feeling that you've witnesses a masterpiece is as present as Joel is dead.

Look for the light, friends.