The Last of Us

[IamLEAM1983]

You might remember a few of the reviews I did for the old board, and more specifically The Walking Dead – The Game. I waxed on about it at length in the chat, too, saying how Lee Everett and Clementine might very well be the first virtual people I'd have ever met – as opposed to plain and simple characters. I thought Telltale Games' post-apocalyptic effort into the adventure game genre wouldn't have a strong emotional opponent within the current decade, as convinced as I was that Clementine's tale was something like a case of the planets aligning, Gameplay and Narrative combining to create something that transcends the limits of the genre and that truly, honestly grips your heart.

I was wrong. The current generation isn't even over and I've already found a distant cousin for the video game adaptation of Robert Kirkman's graphic novel series. That something is Naughty Dog's The Last of Us. I'll say it right off the bat – this is one of the reasons why you should either permanently or temporarily get access to a PS3. Before I get into celebratory praise, though, here's a little background info...

The Last of Us is, on the surface, a clear incarnation of one of TVTropes' observed occurrences, which the netizens took to calling “Our Zombies are Different”. This trope specifically refers to artistic productions that try and portray the walking dead in unusual or creative ways. As a rule, you've got the Romero standard for purists and the newer, more widely used Danny Boyle standard. One involves shambling corpses motivated by a never-ending and unexplainable hunger for human flesh; the other involves warm bodies sprinting with all the strength of their still-living muscles to tear you apart – simply to turn you into another disease vector. Very few games, comics, movies and novels ever diverge from either of those two core concepts, with the authors mixing it up rather than changing it up. A few fast zombies here, some slow zombies there – whoops, there's one that still looks like it has embers of humanity left in its noggin and that we've plopped there so we can land the requisite Ponderous Social Commentary!

Games, probably because of their very nature, aren't very good at picking the Zombie Movie standard apart. The closest contenders in this area are probably State of Decay (another recent release) and Project Zomboid, a potentially jeopardized indie title. In either case, however, the most depth they can manage involves scavenging for supplies and exposing you to the sense that you're literally living off scraps. For all of their really good efforts in that area, both of these games fail to give you a proper emotional jolt.

Of course, other games don't even try and consequently skip the entire problem. Plague, Inc., an iOS title available for most iDevices, pits you as a developing pathogen, with the simple task of wiping out Humanity before they can do you in. You have to evolve over the passing years, developing symptoms to better propagate yourself and DNA-level resistances to heat, cold and antibiotics. A small added fee gives you the chance to play as nasty bug that has the tendency to reanimate the dead; giving a detached and suitably clinical feel to the zombie apocalypse. Your path of infection becomes a glowing, reddish blight upon the game's realistic world map, and you watch intently as airports, wind currents and freighters carry you from coast to coast. Lives lost manifest as a slowly draining bar at the bottom of the screen, with the socio-political effects of your spread being shown to you through an in-game news ticker.

In any case, books and movies alike tend to focus on what's going on during apocalyptic events, and not so much on what comes after. One of the few exceptions I can think of involves Cormac McCarthy's The Road – in that you're treated to what's effectively been called a Wasteland Story. In essence, and to go back to The Last of Us, Naughty Dog's latest effort has more in common with The Road and The Omega Man than it does with Call of Duty's Zombies mode or even Left 4 Dead.

Traditional zombie movies focus on the ongoing decay of social order. Wasteland stories, however, take place after that fact. The odd thing is The Last of Us, just like McCarthy's single not-so-naturalistic effort, does a better job at celebrating what's great about Mankind when we're put under tremendous pressure. Zombie movies focus on the unstoppable decay and rampant chaos of the so-called End of Days, while Wasteland stories strive to make it clear that despite all that's been lost, all the heartbreak, the pain, the loss, suffered betrayals or bitter victories – life goes on. Life does go on in The Last of Us, because the character you play is one well-rounded guy, indeed. I wouldn't go so far as to call Troy Baker's Joel a badass as he can still be poignantly vulnerable and sensitive when the time comes, but he certainly represents the dogged persistence Life tends to have. It's gaming's greatest and most obvious of ironies, really – but to survive, you'll have to kill.

That's my dissertation for the evening, thanks very much. Now let's move on to the real stuff...

The game technically begins now, in 2013, but actually unfolds in 2033, well over twenty years have passed over the ruins of the United States of America. What's done in most of the civilized world isn't a government-sponsored corpse-manipulating microscopic whatsit, but rather a mutated form of a very real and very frightening brain parasite. Opohiocordyceps unilateralis is a peculiar fungus, in that it infects ants and drastically alters their brain chemistry, forcing them to leave the safety of their habitual canopies for tall blades of grass that are likely to be easily spotted by predators. Muscular contractions then force the ant to clamp down on the blade or leaf's central vein with more force than ant mandibles can typically produce, and to stay there. The ant then starves to death as the fungus spores grow and spread within, eventually bursting through the ant's head and forming a long and delicate stem that's perfectly designed to send more spores out into the wind. Some studies have found leaves and little patches of foliage that were absolutely covered with ant graveyards, each and every little drone suffering of a bad case of the exploded shroom-head.

Welp, the game posits what that could mean for us if Cordyceps decided to take an evolutionary leap and infect humans. Mechanically, the result starts out close to the fast zombies of 28 Days Later fame, as the brain parasite drives the infected to attack all those around them. The difference is with humans, you get the feeling that the body and part of the hind brain is on shroom-based autopilot – while parts of the conscious mind remains... The rather unsettling result is the game's first tier of infected, which they call Runners. When not keyed off, Runners shamble about, mumbling and crying and generally painting a very clear picture of a conscious mind trying and failing at the task of regaining control. Early on, Joel and his scavenging partner Tess find a pack of feeding infected, the poor sobs alternating between sound of worrying bites through flesh, feral snarls and anguished sobs or grunts. Disgust always seems to be right around the corner for these poor folks, their obviously severe malnutrition clashing against imposed urges. Effectively, silently taking them out is a small mercy.

After a few years, however, Cordyceps begins to eat its way through your head and eyes. Rendered blind, the now entirely feral beings depend on echolocation in order to spot and reach their prey. Called Clickers, these infected are somewhat slower than the Runners, while still requiring that you stay on your feet. One Clicker on its own, however, is a threat that's easily dealt with. Careful use of stealth allows you to creep up on them unawares, and to hopefully shiv the poor bastards out of their misery.

Then, past that, the fungus compels what's left of the body to find a warm and shady spot to collapse in. You die, leaving mushrooms to burst through you, essentially using your corpse and the nearby wall as a biological scaffold. These man-sized mounds of white-fleshed mushrooms can be found in several dark places across the game, typically serving as points from which the infection cycle starts all over again if you aren't wearing a gas mask.

This is what's effectively destroyed the world as we know it. The US Government is reduced to tatters by 2033 and has largely devolved to a health-focused totalitarian regime that shoots anyone who displays the slightest trace of latent infection. A group of mercenaries is opposing the former United States military for its own ends, while a third group, called the Fireflies, is comprised largely of civilians who seem intent on restoring correct order and base civil liberties – after ending the ever-present biological threat.

Through all this, you'll play as Joel, a man who was in his late twenties and the happy father of a young girl when the infection hit Houston, Texas. Twenty years have passed and he's lost his daughter on that fateful first night. The now grown man is bitter, cynical, pragmatic and survives much like any other survivor would in this situation. That is to say that he gets by using odd jobs Tess informs him of, he illegally leaves Boston's Quarantine Zone to retrieve non-sanctioned supplies in the ruins, and kills whoever it is he needs to kill. By the time you'll actually be in control of him, there won't be much left of the mild-mannered electrical contractor who seemed willing to work insane hours to provide for his motherless daughter.

Then, of course, enters Ellie. She's a young girl of twelve years old who's being handled to Joel and Tess as something akin to living cargo; and they're forced with taking her out of the QZ, across the continental States and into Louisiana. Boston-New Orleans is a long stretch indeed, which will give plenty of time for our protagonists to chit-chat, survive through Hell and develop poignantly complex feelings for one another.

Of course, the plot throws the major driving force behind that growing affection right at you, and does so within the first four hours of the game. Joel does indeed come to care for her in a legitimate and selfless manner, but I do wish the responsible impetus were a little less obvious. Not to mention that that very impetus and Joel's growing amount of care for Ellie also come to telegraph the game's final pivotal choices.

Still, this game packs a journey that's almost as strong as the destination – however obvious it might be. Ellie follows in Elizabeth's footsteps in that she's never in your way and never seriously is in any overt danger. You'll still have to save her from the occasional Runner, but the time window for you to line up your rare shots is extremely generous. That helps, as those shots of yours are severely scarce. Ammo is dotted across the game-world and dropped by the enemies in an almost miserly fashion, so every single shot needs to count. This obviously paints The Last of Us into the Stop and Pop category – much more-so than for other titles of its genre, actually. You can't pause your game to craft survival essentials, as everything is done in real time. Collecting refuse becomes a life-saving habit to take very quickly, especially since some ingredient combinations can have multiple outcomes.

I've got a few rags and several strong alcohol bottles. Do I want to create health packs out of these items, or would I rather stuff a rag down a bottle, light the fucker and gear myself up with a few improvised Molotov cocktails? These supplies never regenerate, so every single item combination you choose has to be something you're committed to. Would you rather create a few flimsy shivs to stab at enemy jugulars and force twenty year-old locks open – or would you stick on a long pole and create some kind of slap-dash polearm for yourself, to be used in keeping the infected at bay?

With no Pause function other than the requisite minimalist Start Menu options, you're forced to think on your toes and to do so quickly. Enemies try and pop in and out of cover as intelligently as you do, while the infected typically lurk about when a confrontation forces you underground or severely off the beaten path offered by what's left of the country's network of highways. The Last of Us consistently feels directed in some fashion, but never in a way that's particularly intrusive. It's simply smart storytelling, as opposed to the mindless hand-holding games like Dead Island, Dead Rising, Left 4 Dead and most other Deads out there tyically push into you. You're never forced into killing infected or sane humans alike and you can always opt to sneak your way past enemy forces. Joel's strong survivalist skills enable him to Listen, a bit à la Harry Dresden, which manifests as ghostly projections of unseen, but audible enemies through walls or furniture items. Using that, it's fairly easy to plan ahead and slink through most of the arenas without making a peep. The game comes with a wide variety of disposable items that help with either this or the task of distracting Clickers, such as fairly simple bricks or big pieces of mortar. You can either smack enemies right in the head with a good throw – which isn't always all that useful or smart... - or you can throw your chosen bit of refuse away from an enemy that's too close to you, in order to goad it into checking out the source of the disturbance. Using that, playing it like an unseen nonviolent presence or a ruthless American pseudo-ninja with zero martial arts skills, lots of chutzpah and a kickass beard becomes possible.

Playing through it, though, you'll quickly realize this isn't a kill-happy thrill-fest. Not in the least. Bullets are agonizingly scarce, human enemies are just as keyed off as you are, their behavior being so edgy it can be hard to Pure Stealth your way through certain segments. Couple that with a deep upgrade system that's based on an unfortunate lack of usable parts and mechanical bits as well as rare vitamins and field guides that give Joel permanent buffs to certain skills – and you obtain the merciless equivalent to your average action RPG. Don't expect to finish the game with a maxed-out set of complete weapons – you plainly and simply won't. Similarly, Joel's proficiency will have increased, but he won't turn into what's so common in video game end cycles, which is a walking demigod. He starts off vulnerable and, in some ways, ends the game being even more vulnerable than before, despite all your upgrades.

That vulnerability is largely emotional, and that alone would be reason enough to swallow your pride and the retail price. As I've said earlier, The Last of Us is one of those rare games where characters aren't just quirky and moderately sympathetic dudes on your screen – they're people. Living, breathing, honest-to-God people with understandable motivations and emotional reactions. If you've played any of Naughty Dog's previous titles, from the Jak & Daxter series to the Uncharted trilogy, you know how much these guys take care when it comes to character creation. The first series focused on lovable cartoony types with a decent amount of Saturday morning-grade complexity, which was great in and of itself. Uncharted : Drake's Fortune introduced us to Indiana Jones and Malcom Reynolds' unholy lovechild, the excellently voiced and acted Nathan Drake. That upped the studio's game after their first series' cartoony antics, but the Pulp Action roots of the second IP they'd work on kept a fair amount of colourful and sunny whimsy plastered onto their character creation process.

The Last of Us does away with that entirely and cleanly. The core strengths of Naughty Dog's writing team are all still there – characters are still complex and multifaceted, you still feel like you're watching a gripping summer blockbuster or indulging in a poolside page-turner – but they've admirably proved that they're able to handle serious material, as well. Instead of colorful zingers landed by a guy who's in his late thirties, you get thoughtful observations shared by a young girl and an older man as they trek their way across a blasted country, sometimes coming across relics of the past like a Mom-and-Pop record store or an old arcade cabinet. Everything looks fittingly forlorn and achingly beautiful, thanks to wonderful sunsets and thoroughly researched visual set-pieces that show what would happen to human architecture if our world simply flat-out stopped turning. Blasted roads are eroding themselves into frog ponds, young trees have managed to tear away at Northeastern sidewalks and the desolate landscapes of the country's metropolises are reduced to ghostlike suggestions of past and desperate attempts at bombardments to contain the fungus.

Most of the load, however, is on Ashley Johnson who, thanks to motion capture, goes back twenty years and plays a little girl who's on the cusp of teenagerhood and who's had to mature extremely quickly, both with and without Joel's assistance. Ellie is among some of the most fully-realized game characters out there, and her appearance has nothing to do with it. She's not animated in the most terrific of ways, that much is true, but everything is on the writing team's back. Her wonder at seeing actual fireflies, how she feels compelled to stay and gawp the first time she sets foot outside of Boston's remains and sees Nature for what it truly is, the questions she asks of Joel about the world she never knew and the lives they've both had stolen from them... It's all effortless, it's all lifelike, and it's all true to form. The rest of the cast – Troy Baker having already been mentioned – plays admirable roles that strike the right chords for the setting they're in. It's so rare to see a cast and crew handle a video game's script with so much respect and attention to detail, and you almost never get to find a game that carries the concept of Humanity as an adjective into its very core. Even the most engrossing of all RPGs ever created would typically shy away from really digging into its characters out of technical constraints, and limit characterizations to one-note observations.

Let's just say that between Oblivion's Ontus Vanin, who stays up late and reads trashy books and someone like Tess; Joel's first traveling companion, there's a world of difference in terms of overall realization. In a way that's very succinct and efficient, you quickly come to grasp what each character is functionally “about”, while being given the impression that nobody's skimped on the details.

The end result is a single-player campaign that will stay with you long, long after you'll have finished it. Where The Walking Dead left some gamers honestly crying, you'll probably find yourself facing another hallmark of Wasteland stories, as opposed to simple tales of undead infection. That hallmark is hope. The Last of Us ends on an ambiguous, if unquestionably strong note that gives you hope for this new franchise into the next generation of consoles, as well as for video games in general.

As long as we'll be able to create stories of this calibre, I won't have any doubts about the relevance of our hobby of choice.

Of course – there's perfunctory multiplayer elements. They're not bad at all, but nor are they particularly memorable. Deathmatches and Team Deathmatches have thematically appropriate name swaps, while your score isn't measured in terms of your Kill/Death ratio or overall points scored – but rather in how many survivors you've managed to gather for your cause. Each successful match or round attracts people to you, and each match lost makes a few wander off. This gives the notion of “scoring” a win in the Multiplayer element a decent amount of depth that meshes well with the single-player campaign's theme – but it's really nothing special. Not even the most clever of all scoring mechanics or careful attention for level design could stop this suite from degenerating into yet another cesspool for potential trash-talkers sailing well past the intended point of the exercise. The leader of a group of survivors wouldn't brag about it if he wanted to save his skin and his people's, but there ya go. That's the Internet for ya. All things considered, this is a minuscule blemish in the face of a wonderful swan song for the PS3.

As we're facing the end of a console generation, odds are the current models and game libraries will gradually drop in price. If that's the case, and if you ever manage to find a discounted PS3 as well as a copy of The Last of Us, I highly recommend that you shell out whatever asking price will be displayed. I've said this about Bioshock Infinite as well, but this is one of gaming's magnum opuses, the kind of product that gives me hope for the day where Game Theory and gaming-specific narratology are as seriously discussed in university classrooms as classic literature and genre fiction currently are. This is a cultural benchmark for all gamers alike, and I highly recommend that you find a way to pick this up.

Just – try and ignore the fact that the game has something like two thirds of Saints Row : The Third's voice cast. Joel regrettably isn't The Boss and no, the five or six different Killbane-sounding guys you'll cross aren't out to kill you...