Guys, it’s been a minute, and we’ve got so much to catch up on, but first up: some overwrought reflection on my favorite game of 2020, and possibly ever, ‘The Last of Us, Pt. II’. We are FULL SPOILERS from here on in, so if 1) you haven’t completed the game (and plan to) or 2) just have no interest, at all, now’s your cue to go fire up HBO’s ‘The Vow’ instead. This essay will probably be just as long and meandering!
If you’re still reading, then you’re already well-versed in the plot of ‘The Last of Us, Pt. II’. But this is my first blog post in a while, and daddy wants to stretch his prosaic muscles, so–
FIVE YEARS after the events of the first game (‘Pt. I,’ retroactively), smuggler/killer/guitarist/dad Joel is beaten to death by a ski-capped stranger. Joel’s surrogate daughter Ellie, utterly broken, sets off on a Roaring Rampage of Revenge through Seattle. When she reaches the apex of that revenge… the game’s perspective shifts, and suddenly you’re playing as Abby, aka the ski-capped monster you’ve been trying to kill, now navigating her OWN story of trauma and vengeance. WTF?! Up is down, down is up, until 20+ hours later when you finally confront each other on a beach in Santa Barbara, battle to the death… and then each stumble away — Abby to Catalina Island, Ellie to Jackson, Wyoming, both of you to a future finally unshackled from this endless cycle of blood.
(The game’s a friggin’ laugh riot, is what I’m trying to say!)
‘LoU II’ is many things — a zombie survival game, a stealth shooter, a playable movie — but above all, it’s this: a study of people dealing with tremendous pain, hollowed out by hate, who slowly (really slowly) find the courage and grace to let it go. I don’t see any kind of metaphor for 2020 in there, no way, you’re crazy.
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