2025, The Last of Us, and The Cult of Joel
BEWARE: MASSIVE SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THE LAST OF US PART I, PART II, AND THE SHOW.
THE ENDING
It’s 2013. The credits just rolled on the game of the year (that’s right), and you are staring back on yourself, totally conflicted
Why?
Because your new favourite digital rugged daddy just did something that pushes “morally-grey” to its limit, like something out of a HBO show (more on that later) and changed the way video games are written forever. His final line before the screen cuts to black is just the rotten cherry on top, and leaves you wondering if you even like this guy anymore?
Or does it?
THE BEGINNING
It was a whole seven years before we would get any answers, and Naughty Dog (the developers) certainly had a strong statement to make. Imagine the tension of sitting down to witness the return of two of the most well acted and written characters in recent gaming history. Where will this story take us? What new emotional and thrilling adventures will Joel and his surrogate daughter Ellie go on next? How will their relationship grow? The day has come! It’s time to find out!
But things have changed, as we have grown over time so have our characters. Joel is greying and has little of his former intensity. He kicks off the story with a grim confession of his actions. Ellie is no longer a rebellious child. She had become a young woman, and she has her own issues. Joel is a shadow, and the pair are clearly not on speaking terms. We sense a deep sorrow and need for penance in Joel as he fails to clear the air with Ellie, but it’s okay right? I’m only an hour in. Surely they will have time to amends!
A swinging golf club to the face puts an end to any of that optimism. In possibly the most effective video game death scene I have witnessed, Joel is indeed bludgeoned to death about an hour into the sequel, and by a brand new, mysterious character no less. This unflinchingly brutal moment leaves us bewildered on where this story could possibly go. Naughty Dog’s master plan has worked. Through some controversial manipulative trailers and coy marketing, they have successfully pulled off one of gamings most devastating ruses.
There’s only one problem…
THE LEAKS
You see, earlier that year, just as the giant Sony marketing train was nearing the station, much of The Last of Us 2’s story content was leaked. Now, if this had happened to any other game, at any other time, I suspect that people mostly would have simply read some spoilers, been disappointed that the surprise was ruined, and moved on, but this is the online gaming community in 2020. It is a post-GamerGate world, a deep undercurrent of aggressive misogyny and anger permeates through every increasingly politicised discussion. While the big studios push inclusivity and diversity, this subset of gamers push back. Hard. Story points like Ellie being gay, or that the game would include a trans character caught heavy steam immediately. After seven long years of waiting, they found out that their favourite game had “gone woke”. Review bombs. Boycotts. Death threats. Not over any of this of course, but I think you can guess what…
THE CULT OF JOEL
I played the original Last of Us at launch, in my own little bubble. I thought about it for weeks afterwards, buzzing with the complex feelings the ending gave me. Joel wasn’t a hero, he wasn’t a villain. He was an actual, complex character with conflicting motivations, and severe emotional damage. He was fascinating, a type of character we rarely saw (or still see) in gaming. He did a terrible thing out of love, a selfish love. He threw away the world for someone. Partly for them, but mostly for himself. It’s not until the Part II leaks that I truly engaged with The Last of Us community. What do I find? This guy has developed quite the fanbase!
ndeed. What I had seen as a bittersweet ending was actually being interpreted as a triumphant conclusion. People were arguing endlessly over the validity of his actions, that he was fully justified in everything he had done. They were infantilising Ellie, disregarding her opinions and protests as the tantrums of a child. Joel was the stern dad, unquestionable and always, always in the right. I had never seen anything like it, a complex human character reduced to a simple American hero.
The sombre writing for his character at the start of the sequel was labelled a “betrayal”. Rather than simply accepting that their interpretation of events as subjective, they accused the game’s writers of, pulling the rug out from under them. Any rebuttal made was shut down. They had built up this figure in their mind over seven years, and now he was abruptly destroyed.
On release, the sequel was subject to organised review-bombing on a large scale, large enough that it famously prompted Metacritic to change its rules on user reviews . Of course, many of the “haters” never ended up playing the game, or never intended to, but their presence was felt. It skewed perception, warped the critical acclaim, shattered a fanbase. These people rewrote entire sections of dialogue, decrying the sequel as non-canon and fanfic-ing their own versions, painting Joel as the perfect hero. He saved Ellie. He was an angel.
Still, fans of the series and newcomers alike played the game and enjoyed its story, one that, seen through to the end, lays its central message very clear. It’s certainly a different experience to Part I, but, in my view, no lesser of a story. We played it, and we all moved on…
THE CULT OF JOEL PART II
When it was finally confirmed that The Last of Us would be adapted into a HBO series, my mind immediately went to one thing. It was inevitable that we would, sooner or later, reach that dreaded moment. Season one aired to, mostly, critical acclaim. With high production value and strong performances, HBO had another winner, and Pedro Pascal’s Joel had garnered a brand new set of fans. Oh dear. Still, this was prestige TV, HBO’s brand of prestige no less. This was a place that was not afraid to go to dark places, challenge us with complex characters, and of course, kill them off with little fanfare. Surely this audience would be more comfortable watching the most violent game of golf on TV? Well…
While I’m sure the majority of viewers were shocked, but onboard with the twist, a notable drop in viewership revealed that the Cult of Joel was still very much alive. The many online communities around TLOU were burning again, shouting the exact same arguments at each other that we had seen five years ago. The sorrowful, broken Joel in therapy (given even more soul by Pascal) was seen, once again, as a betrayal. Even daring to question the decisions he made is heresy. Ellie is a silly child and his is the stern, righteous dad. Once again, a brand new character beats him to death in the second episode. He is gone. Violent fury fills a fanbase all over again, more abuse delivered straight to the actors. More decrying the story. It was all happening again, exactly as it did before. They can do it better. They know their hero, their god. Joel.
But isn’t all this just missing the point? Are we not supposed to feel this anger as we hopelessly watch our father figure be brutalised by a group of strangers? There is still time to look past our own anger and appreciate the full depth of the writing on display. After all, aren’t we robbing ourselves of a well-written complex character by reducing him to a basic heroic, perfect man? Are we not missing the point of what makes The Last of Us stand out, and what allows its legacy to burn bright to this day?
Ellie herself is entirely engulfed in vengeful anger, and it destroys whatever love she has left in her life. That is, until she looks past her hate and manages to hold on to a tiny piece of her soul by letting Joel’s killer live. We are almost there, almost understanding what the story wants us to feel, but mistaking it for a creative misfire. Pointing our anger towards the stories writers, instead of acknowledging that we are being challenged to feel this way, and find a way to move past it before we lose ourselves.