Around the time I started having to spend my own money on videogames, I found they rarely held my attention. My PS3, a college dorm staple, was mostly a glorified Netflix machine until boredom struck. Skipping class one day, I scoured the internet for the best games and stumbled upon The Last of Us. For $13.99 on eBay, I bought a used copy that delivered one of the most gripping adventures of my young life.
The game’s characters felt alive, their struggles visceral. Joel, a gruff Texan with a protective streak, and Ellie, a bold yet vulnerable teen, were no clichés. Their bond, forged through perilous encounters with clickers and human threats, was authentic and unforgettable. Late-night gaming sessions kept my roommate awake, but he got his revenge with bizarre anime marathons. Fair trade.
When HBO announced a The Last of Us series, I was thrilled. The game’s cinematic storytelling seemed tailor-made for television. Yet, the showrunners’ apparent disdain for fans of the source material—evident in their public statements and creative choices—soured the experience. Why alienate the audience that loved the game? In an era of subversive adaptations, fidelity to what made the original great seems like a radical act.
Season 1 Felt Rushed and Disconnected
The first season felt like a missed opportunity. Its pacing was erratic, cramming Joel and Ellie’s evolving relationship into too few episodes. By the finale, their bond lacked the depth to justify Joel’s drastic actions at the Firefly hospital. The show squandered time on tangents, like an entire episode devoted to the Left Behind DLC and another wasted on Bill and Frank’s backstory. While well-acted, these detours detracted from the core narrative. An eight-episode season condensed into six of merit, with only a handful of standout moments—like the thrilling bloater sequence in the finale—recapturing the game’s intensity.
Casting also sparked controversy. Bella Ramsey’s portrayal of Ellie drew criticism for lacking resemblance to the game’s character. Some dismissed these critiques as shallow (and darkly perverse) but the issue wasn’t appearance alone—Ramsey’s Ellie felt like a caricature of the game’s nuanced teen. In Season 2, set five years later, Ellie still behaves like a 14-year-old, undermining the character’s growth.
Season 2: A Betrayal of the Source
Season 2 doubles down on these flaws, straying further from the game’s spirit. The premiere sets an absurd tone: Ellie, all 5’1” of her, overpowers a grown man twice her size. In a show about fungal zombies, suspension of disbelief is expected, but this strains credulity. The game grounded its action in gritty realism; the show leans into tired “tough girl” tropes that feel unearned and annoying.
Then there’s Abby, played by Kaitlyn Dever. In the game, Abby’s imposing physique—honed over years of obsessive training—made her a credible threat. She worked nothing but upper body for five years out of pure hatred for the day she got to bash Joel’s soul in. Dever, slight and unconvincing, lacks the menace required for the role. Joel, wounded or not, should’ve overpowered her easily. Speaking of Joel, his characterization is unrecognizable. The stoic survivor from the game is now a pot-dealing, therapy-attending crybaby grappling with inner turmoil. This isn’t complexity—it’s a betrayal. His issues were hashed out with Tommy in the game; the show’s pivot to a Sopranos-style therapy arc feels forced and out of place.
The show’s obsession with “humans are the real monsters” is equally grating. This theme, overused in post-apocalyptic dramas, overshadows the fungal threat that defined the game. Clickers and bloaters, once terrifying, are now background noise, posing little danger to the main characters. If I wanted to watch humans being awful, I’d turn on any other drama. A show about fungal zombies should deliver on its premise.
A Hollow Adaptation
The HBO series feels like a hollow imitation of The Last of Us. Ellie lacks emotional range, Joel is a shadow of his former self, and supporting characters fail to compel. The showrunners’ insistence on subverting the source material has stripped away what made the game special: its raw, grounded storytelling and unforgettable characters. Fans deserved an adaptation that honored the original, not one that lectures or panders.
I slogged through Season 1, hoping for glimmers of the game’s magic. Season 2, however, has tested my patience. I’m not sure I can keep watching a show that feels so disconnected from the story I loved. For those still invested, I hope the series finds its way. But for me, The Last of Us lives on in the game—a masterpiece that HBO has failed to recapture.
