Five years later and people are still screaming about it. Honestly, it’s impressive. Most games disappear from the cultural zeitgeist within a fiscal quarter, but The Last of Us Part II is different. It sticks. It’s like a burr under the skin of the gaming community that nobody can quite dig out.
Naughty Dog didn't just make a sequel. They made a litmus test.
If you played the first game, you probably loved Joel. He was the grizzled dad figure we all wanted to protect. Then the sequel happened, and Neil Druckmann basically took those warm feelings and threw them into a woodchipper. It was bold. Some say it was brave; others say it was a total betrayal of the characters. But regardless of where you stand, the technical achievement and the narrative swings in this game are objectively massive.
The Joel Problem and Why It Had to Happen
Let’s talk about the inciting incident. You know the one. Within the first couple of hours, Joel Miller is gone. Not just gone—brutally taken out by a woman named Abby using a golf club. It was shocking. It was visceral. It felt like a slap in the face to anyone who spent thirty hours bonded to him in the original 2013 title.
But here is the thing: The Last of Us Part II isn't a story about heroes.
Joel wasn't a hero. He was a survivor who did something deeply selfish—and arguably necessary—at the end of the first game. He saved Ellie, but he lied to her and potentially robbed humanity of a cure. Consequences exist. In a world this bleak, those consequences usually come in the form of a blunt object.
The game forces you to sit with that grief. You play as Ellie, fueled by a singular, burning desire for revenge. You’re with her. You want Abby dead. You want to see every single person in that Seattle crew pay. The gameplay reflects this; it’s meaner, faster, and more desperate than the first game. You’re prone in the grass, heart hammering, listening to enemies call out each other’s names.
When you kill a dog in this game, the owner screams its name. It’s uncomfortable. It’s meant to be.
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Flipping the Script Mid-Game
Just when you think you’re closing in on the "boss fight," the game pulls the rug out. It stops. It resets. Suddenly, you’re Abby.
This is where half the player base checked out and the other half started to see the genius. Spending ten to fifteen hours as the person you’ve spent the last ten hours trying to kill is a massive risk. It’s a pacing nightmare on paper. Yet, by showing us Abby’s side—her friends, her father (the surgeon Joel killed), and her own journey toward redemption with Yara and Lev—the game challenges the very idea of a "villain."
Abby’s perspective shifts the entire context of the Seattle conflict.
You realize the Washington Liberation Front (WLF) and the Seraphites aren't just fodder. They are communities. They are people with complicated internal politics. Abby isn't a monster; she’s just the protagonist of her own tragedy. If you played her story first and Ellie’s second, Ellie would be the terrifying, unstoppable shadow in the woods.
The Evolution of the Combat System
Mechanically, The Last of Us Part II is a masterclass in tension. The addition of the "prone" mechanic changed everything. You aren't just ducking behind crates anymore. You’re sliding under trucks, crawling through tall weeds, and feeling the claustrophobia of being hunted.
The AI is terrifyingly smart. They flank. They communicate. If you kill a member of a squad, the others don't just stay on their path; they panic, they search harder, and they grieve. It’s a level of detail that makes every encounter feel heavy. It’s not just "clear the room." It’s "survive the encounter."
The "Stalkers" are arguably the best-designed enemies in the franchise. They don't make noise. They don't show up on "Listen Mode" if they’re standing still. They wait for you to turn your back. It’s pure horror.
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The Technical Wizardry of Naughty Dog
We have to mention the "Remastered" version that hit PS5. While the base game already looked like it was from the future on the PS4, the 2024 update pushed the fidelity even further. But the real star isn't the 4K resolution; it's the animation.
The facial capture in The Last of Us Part II remains the gold standard. You can see micro-expressions. You can see the moment Ellie’s resolve cracks or the moment Abby realizes she’s lost everything. The "No Return" roguelike mode added in the remaster also proved that the core combat loop is fun enough to stand on its own without the heavy narrative weight.
It’s a brutal, kinetic ballet.
Dealing With the Backlash
It would be dishonest to write about this game without mentioning the firestorm. The leaks before release ruined the experience for many. People saw out-of-context clips and decided they hated the game before they ever picked up a controller.
There were complaints about "pacing." Some felt the game was too long—and at 25-30 hours, it’s a marathon. Others hated the ending. Ellie loses everything. She loses her fingers, her ability to play the guitar (her last connection to Joel), and her relationship with Dina. It’s a bleak, somber ending that refuses to give the player a "win."
But that’s the point.
Violence is a cycle that leaves everyone empty. If Ellie had killed Abby at the end, it wouldn't have brought Joel back. It wouldn't have fixed her PTSD. By letting Abby go, Ellie finally breaks the cycle. She chooses to remember Joel for their life together, not just his death. It’s an incredibly mature, if frustrating, conclusion.
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The Legacy of Part II
So, where does it leave us?
The Last of Us Part II is a game that demands a lot from its audience. It demands empathy for people you want to hate. It demands that you participate in acts of violence that make you feel sick. It’s not "fun" in the traditional sense, but it is deeply rewarding.
It’s a landmark in environmental storytelling. Whether it’s the overgrown streets of Seattle or the haunting silence of the Santa Barbara beaches, every inch of the world tells a story. You find notes from people who died decades ago, and their tiny dramas feel as real as the main plot.
Actionable Insights for Players
If you’re diving back in or playing for the first time, keep these things in mind:
- Don't Rush: The game is dense. Explore every corner. The best character moments are often tucked away in optional dialogue triggers or diary entries.
- Custom Difficulty: One of the best features is the granular difficulty settings. You can make enemies blind but keep resources scarce, or vice versa. It’s the most accessible game Naughty Dog has ever made.
- Play With Headphones: The 3D audio is essential. Hearing a Seraphite whistle from the trees behind you is a totally different experience than hearing it through TV speakers.
- Embrace the Discomfort: If you find yourself hating Abby, lean into it. Let the game try to change your mind. Even if it doesn't succeed, the attempt is the most interesting part of the experience.
The game is a monumental achievement in digital acting and level design. It’s messy, it’s angry, and it’s beautiful. Whether you love it or hate it, you can't ignore it. It changed the way we think about sequels and the way we view "heroes" in gaming.
To truly understand the impact, you have to look at the "No Return" mode. It strips away the story and leaves you with the raw, terrifying mechanics. It reminds you that underneath all the heavy themes, there is a polished, high-octane stealth-action game that works perfectly. But the story is the soul. It’s a story about a girl who couldn't let go, and a woman who had to.
If you haven't played it since the 2020 launch, the PS5 version is the definitive way to experience it. The haptic feedback on the DualSense controller makes every gunshot and bowstring pull feel tactile. It’s as close to the "definitive" version of this vision as we’re ever going to get.