S02 - Revenge doesn't bring anyone back

The second season of The Last of Us picks up five years after the events of the first, transporting us to a world where survival has become everyday life—though that doesn't mean people have managed to move past what scarred them. Joel and Ellie are now living in Jackson, in a community that offers a sense of relative safety, but their relationship has shifted. Joel's lie at the end of the first season still hangs between them, with Ellie trying to figure out what really happened at the hospital and Joel bearing the consequences of his decision.

The show starts with a deceptive calm, which gradually gives way to a story driven by rage, loss, and revenge. Abby's arrival permanently alters the narrative's course, forcing us to look at events from a whole new angle. Season 2 isn't content with simply adapting the story of The Last of Us Part II; it sets out to bring to television one of the most controversial and emotionally brutal narratives we've ever come across in gaming.

Joel and the moment that changes the entire series

Joel's death is undoubtedly the defining event of the second season. Pedro Pascal had managed to strike a rare balance with the character between toughness and vulnerability. Beneath the man who could turn ruthless whenever Ellie was in danger, there was a father trying to find himself again. Their relationship, however, had begun to fracture. Ellie hadn't forgiven his lie, and Joel knew he couldn't demand her forgiveness. When Abby kills him, the show isn't just eliminating a main character. It robs Ellie of the chance to finish the conversation she had started with him and to decide what his choice at the hospital truly meant to her.

It’s a choice that had already sparked a massive backlash back in the game, so it was bound to divide audiences once again. For those who had grown attached to Joel, his death feels almost unfair. But if we look at the story from Abby’s perspective, her actions don't come out of nowhere. Joel had killed her father, Jerry Anderson, while rescuing Ellie at the hospital. She grew up carrying that loss, and ultimately chose to take revenge. That doesn't mean we have to justify what she does. It means we need to understand that Joel, who was once the man who saved Ellie, was at the exact same time the man who ruined Abby's life. That is the hardest idea *The Last of Us* tries to convey: you can be the hero of one story and the villain of someone else's.

My own experience with The Last of Us Part II

My relationship with The Last of Us Part II is quite personal. I had bought the PlayStation 4 Pro mainly for games like Uncharted, The Last of Us, and God of War. Back then, Sony kept its big exclusive titles strictly on its own consoles, and if you wanted to play them, you didn't really have any other choice. Today, things have started to change, with quite a few PlayStation games eventually making their way to PC. If The Last of Us Part III or a new Uncharted ever releases, I wouldn't rule out borrowing a friend's PS5 for a month, just like I used to do with Sony's consoles back in the day.

When I was waiting for the second game, I avoided spoilers like the plague. For two or three months, I even cut down on my Facebook use because I didn't want anyone spoiling the story for me. I actually remember my best man trying to tell me something about it and stopping him dead in his tracks with: "If you value our bond, hang up right now and don't tell me a thing!"

And then came that moment with Joel. When it happened, I shut off the console and didn't play again for almost a month. It was one of those times when a fictional character manages to evoke a genuine sense of loss. I had bonded with him through the first game and had been through the entire journey with Ellie right by his side. My reaction was as if I had lost a family member. I knew I was playing a game, but in that moment, that didn't change how it felt.

Another interesting element was how the marketing handled certain scenes ahead of release. In the trailers, we saw Ellie in a perilous situation with someone appearing beside her, with the direction and camera angles creating the impression that it was Joel. The line "You think I'd let you do this on your own?" only reinforced that feeling. In the game, however, the person who actually shows up in that scene is Jesse, Dina's ex and JJ's father. Framing the scene from Ellie's perspective made the misdirection even more effective. For anyone dodging spoilers, it was a clever move that protected one of the game's biggest narrative gut-punches.

The death scene: Game vs. TV series

The TV adaptation preserves the sheer brutality of that scene without copying every single detail. In the game, Abby beats Joel to death with a golf club. In the show, the violence continues even after the club snaps, with Abby using the broken piece to fatally wound him in the neck.

The choice of the golf club was no accident. Neil Druckmann has spoken about how such an everyday object can be turned into a weapon and make the scene feel particularly brutal, precisely because it is so ordinary. The TV adaptation preserves that feeling, confronting the viewer with a scene that offers no easy emotional release.

Most importantly, though, is what comes next. Joel's death isn't just a shock-value event meant to spark buzz on social media. It is the moment Ellie loses the person she never got the chance to reconcile with. Her guilt, anger, and grief morph into a driving need to hunt down Abby and make her pay. From that point on, the story takes a completely different direction.

Tara from Sons of Anarchy and the power of loss

I can't help but think of Tara, Jax's wife in Sons of Anarchy, when I think about how a single scene can completely shift the dynamic of a show. Without spoiling who is responsible for her death, anyone who's seen the series knows just how violent and pivotal that moment is. That loss becomes one of the main reasons the story that follows takes an even bloodier turn.

Something similar happens in The Last of Us Part II. Joel's murder is the spark that sends Ellie down a path of revenge, with every step pulling her further away from the person she used to be. Loss doesn't help her move on. It keeps her trapped in a cycle of violence, where every answer raises new questions and every act of retaliation spawns a new loss.

That's why his murder at the hands of Abby works so effectively within the story. Ellie doesn't just lose the man who protected her. She also loses the chance to confront him with a clear head, to tell him everything she’d been holding inside, and to decide whether she could ultimately forgive him. The show leaves us to ponder how different her life would have been if she had managed to have that conversation in time.

Ellie and the dangerous path of revenge

After Joel's death, Ellie cannot accept that Abby will just move on with her life without paying for what she did. Her decision to leave Jackson and track her down in Seattle is the start of a journey that tests her limits. Accompanying her is Dina, who isn't just a companion on the mission, but someone who tries to hold her back when rage begins to dictate her decisions.

Ellie still has the grit and determination we came to know in the first season, but violence now carries a very different meaning. She isn't just using weapons to survive—she's using them to get closer to her goal. Along the way, her actions become increasingly difficult to justify, even when we understand where her pain stems from.

The reveal that Mel is pregnant makes one of the story's harshest moments even more tragic. Ellie realizes that revenge carries a real cost, and that the people in front of her aren't just obstacles standing between her and Abby. They have their own lives, relationships, and people who will mourn their loss. This realization doesn't undo what's already happened, nor can it easily stop the cycle of violence she has set in motion.

Seattle: Two worlds that have learned to hate

Seattle becomes one of the most important settings in Season 2. The city isn't merely the backdrop for a revenge quest; it's a place where different factions have built their own societies and rules, striving to survive in a world that has completely collapsed.

On one side you have the WLF, an organized military force armed with firepower, command structures, and strict discipline. On the other are the Seraphites, a religious cult with rigid rules and rituals that views its rivals as a threat to its very way of life. The two sides are locked in a relentless conflict where revenge, faith, and the sheer drive for survival have become almost impossible to untangle.

Within this environment, Ellie's story takes on a greater dimension. She believes she has a clear goal, yet every new encounter reveals a world full of people who believe they are in the right. The show doesn't depict violence as something belonging exclusively to monsters or emotionless people; it presents it as a habit that can take root even within communities that believe they are fighting for a higher cause.

Clickers and the sound that makes you freeze

One of the most iconic elements of The Last of Us is the Clickers. These infected creatures have lost their sight due to the growth of the Cordyceps fungus and rely on echolocation to locate their prey. The distinctive sounds they make aren't just a way for the player to recognize danger—they're a core part of the atmosphere and tension built by the game.

Naughty Dog's audio team put serious work into these shrieks, blending human vocals and heavily processed sounds to craft something that feels simultaneously human and deeply unnatural. Misty Lee and Phillip Kovats are inextricably linked with creating the signature sound effects for the Infected in the game. The end result is an instantly recognizable audio cue that rattles your nerves even when there isn't a Clicker in sight.

Pay attention to that sound design and don't just write it off as standard video game audio. Anyone who has played The Last of Us knows that Clicker areas often turn into pure stealth challenges. There are spots where you have to avoid them entirely—either because you're running low on ammo or because getting swarmed means you don't stand a chance. That's where the whole experience shifts. You don't just go in guns blazing. You hide, observe, and wait for them to move away so you can push forward.

Let's not forget that Clickers are essentially blind. They rely on their hearing and perceive their surroundings through their distinctive sounds. If you make noise, they can head straight toward its source. A rushed step, a careless move, or a gunshot can give away your position and turn a quiet passage into a battle for survival. When you hear them nearby, you have to figure out where they are, stay quiet, and wait for them to move away before you can proceed safely.

It’s an experience that creates a unique sense of tension. You hear the Clickers, you know they’re around, but you don’t always have line of sight. Sound becomes your main guide, while every move you make could prove decisive. The game forces you to listen closely, assess the risk, and think before you act. This sense of vulnerability is one of the reasons these encounters have stayed so vividly in players' memories.

The TV series builds on this design legacy, retaining that signature sound as part of the infected's core identity. What’s compelling is that the threat isn't just visual. Often, the sound precedes their appearance, priming us for something that might be right around the corner, even if we don't know where it's coming from. Props to Neil Druckmann for insisting on bringing this detail to the show with such meticulous care, preserving one of the most iconic and essential elements of the gaming experience. The sound of the Clickers isn't just window dressing. It’s part of how The Last of Us teaches you to fear, think, and survive.

The game's big monster and the scene with the infected bursting from the ground

Speaking of the monsters in The Last of Us, there is one creature from the second game that deserves a special mention: the Rat King. It's one of the most terrifying and impressive monsters Naughty Dog has ever created. We encounter it in the hospital basement in Seattle, in an area tied to the very first stages of the outbreak. After decades of confinement, multiple infected bodies have grown and fused together, creating a massive, grotesque creature with multiple limbs and faces. This isn't your run-of-the-mill Clicker or Bloater, but a horrifying mass of infected organisms that has merged into a single beast.

The showdown with the Rat King is one of the most nerve-wracking moments in the game. The space is dark, escape routes are limited, and the feeling that something massive is hunting you down keeps you constantly on edge. Finding a good spot to shoot from isn't enough. You have to keep moving, make the most of whatever ammo and gear you have, and desperately search for the next exit. The monster is so resilient that the battle feels more like a fight for survival than a typical boss encounter. Even more chilling is the fact that, as it takes damage, one of the infected creatures fused onto it can detach and keep attacking you on its own.

What makes the Rat King truly special is that it represents the most extreme form of horror Cordyceps has ever spawned. The infection hasn't just turned a single human into a monster—it has fused multiple bodies into a grotesque entity seemingly trapped in a state of endless decay. Naughty Dog succeeds in creating an enemy that stands out both visually and in the way it forces you to play. It's one of those moments where the game's horror peaks.

The TV series' second season hasn't yet introduced the Rat King as a full-on monster, but there is one detail gamers will find hard to miss. When reference is made to the hospital basement and the absence of even rats, the line serves as a clear hint at something much worse lurking down there. For those who know what's in store from the game, it's a subtle yet incredibly effective bit of foreshadowing. The notion that a place teeming with infected has suddenly been left empty immediately raises the question of what could possibly be left down there.

Still, the show had already made a huge impression with a different kind of horror scene: the moment the infected burst out of the frozen ground as Abby tries to escape through the snow. The bodies of the dead infected lie half-buried beneath the snow, initially giving the impression that they're merely part of the frozen landscape. But once movement beneath the surface becomes noticeable, the ground itself seems to come alive. Suddenly, hundreds of infected emerge and start chasing Abby, turning the scene into a desperate bid for escape.

What makes this particular scene so brilliant is the way scale, movement, and sheer tension come together. At first, the camera allows us to take in the vastness of the landscape and Abby’s total isolation. Then, the pace picks up and the frame fills with infected bursting from the snow while our protagonist scrambles to find a way out. The contrast between the stark, frozen environment and the contorted bodies creates a truly unforgettable visual. It’s not just the sheer number of infected that terrifies you, but the feeling that the very ground beneath your feet could be concealing danger.

The VFX team had to tackle an exceptionally demanding sequence. Crafting the scene involved hundreds of infected, complex snow simulations, and the need to maintain a sense of real weight behind every movement. The action wouldn't have landed the same way if the creatures just felt like digital models. You need to feel the snow shift, the ground give way, and the horde's sheer momentum swallow up anyone in its path. The result is a large-scale set piece that still retains Abby's personal terror.

That's where you see just how effectively the TV show can harness the game's language and translate it to a different medium. In gaming, the player is directly involved in the escape, feeling that every wrong move could prove fatal. On television, that tension is built through the direction, the editing rhythm, the camera movement, and Kaitlyn Dever's performance. The scene works because it isn't just trying to show off a bunch of monsters. It makes you feel like there's no safe place to hide.

For me, these are the moments that prove just how much craftsmanship goes into the visual identity of The Last of Us. The Rat King represents a deeply personal, claustrophobic brand of horror, forcing you to face a monster within a tightly confined space. The horde bursting out of the snow, on the other hand, captures the terror of a mass onslaught and humanity's helplessness against a threat coming from all sides. In both cases, the horror lands because the show's world is built with such detail that every threat feels real within its own established rules.

Critical reception: A success, but not without pushback

Season two received a generally positive reception from a number of critics, with praise singled out for the performances, direction, and its ability to bring a story built on tough moral choices to television. Bella Ramsey remains front and center as Ellie moves from grief to rage, and from a drive for justice into an increasingly dangerous obsession. Pedro Pascal, despite his limited screen time, remains pivotal to the season's emotional weight.

Kaitlyn Dever, as Abby, faces a particularly daunting task. Her character carries the weight of an act that a large portion of the audience struggles to accept, while the story takes time to reveal the motives behind her choices. The series tries to maintain this tension without demanding that the viewer immediately sympathize with Abby. However, it needs to give her room to be understood as a person, and not just the woman who killed Joel.

The main complaints centered on the narrative pacing, the compression of certain events, and how the season handles the shift in perspective. Some viewers were expecting more screen time for Abby and her crew, while others felt the story cuts off at a point that fails to offer enough closure. The shorter runtime compared to the first season was also a major talking point.

These reactions are directly tied to the nature of the source material. The Last of Us Part II is a story that hinges on gradually shifting the player's sympathies. The TV adaptation is tasked with achieving that same effect without the agency and immersion that gameplay provides. The result can work brilliantly in certain scenes while leaving question marks in others, especially when there isn't enough breathing room to flesh out every character in equal detail.

The finale: the moment the story switches sides

The final episode, titled Convergence, forces Ellie to face the consequences of her mission. Her actions in Seattle have left behind bodies and people seeking revenge of their own. The killing of Owen and Mel marks one of the darkest points of her journey, especially when Ellie realizes that Mel was pregnant. Jesse also loses his life as the confrontation spills into the theater where Ellie, Dina, and the others are hiding.

That's where Abby shows up, pushing the story to a whole new climax. The clash between the two women isn't just a showdown between rivals. It's the meeting of two people who have lost loved ones and believe the other is entirely responsible for ruining their lives. The scene ends with a single gunshot and leaves the outcome completely open, giving the viewer no clear answer as to who was actually hit.

Then, the narrative jumps back three days and shifts the focus to Abby. This shift in perspective is one of the most significant narrative choices in The Last of Us Part II. Up to that point, we’ve followed events mostly through Ellie's eyes. Now, the show is tasked with showing us what happened from Abby's side, who the people around her are, and how she herself views the conflict.

The finale doesn't offer the closure of a complete story. It sets the stage for a different reading of events. The challenge for next season will be to give Abby the necessary character development without undercutting the pain we've already experienced through Ellie.

What We Know About Season 3

The third season of The Last of Ushas been confirmed and is expected to focus more on Abby and the events we partly saw through her perspective at the end of the second season. The story still has plenty of material from the second game to explore, as Ellie and Abby's parallel journeys form the core of the narrative.

Kaitlyn Dever is expected to take center stage as Abby, while Isabela Merced returns as Dina and Gabriel Luna as Tommy. Jeffrey Wright plays Isaac, with the characters Lev and Yara set to gain greater prominence as the story unfolds—played by Kyriana Kratter and Michelle Mao, respectively.

Craig Mazin remains a key creative figure for the series, while Neil Druckmann continues to be tied to the production and the TV universe's creative identity. Filming has been centered in Canada, with the timeline pointing to the show's return after a significant wait. The exact premiere date will ultimately depend on the progress of production and post-production.

The main challenge is now clear: the show needs to make room for Abby and the people who shaped her life. The audience needs to understand her choices, without that meaning they have to forget what she did to Joel. If season three manages to pull off this balancing act, it could prove to be the most demanding chapter of the TV adaptation.

My View

The second season of The Last of Us is a story that leaves the viewer with a tough question: how far can a person go when loss becomes the only thing keeping them standing? Ellie starts out driven by the need to punish Abby, but along the way, she risks losing her very identity. Every step toward revenge pushes her further away from the life she could have had, while Joel's memory grows heavier and heavier.

For me, the story’s greatest strength lies in the fact that it offers no easy answers. Joel loved Ellie and made a choice that saved her life, but ruined others in the process. Abby lost her father and chose revenge, but her own loss doesn't make her violence any less devastating. Ellie has every reason to be hurting, but her grief can't justify everything she goes on to do.

The show asks us to see the human beings behind their actions. That's tough, especially when we've already grown to love a character and feel like the story took them from us in the most brutal way possible. My own reaction to Joel's death is proof of that. I needed time before I could get back to the game, because I didn't want to just carry on as if nothing had happened.

That's exactly why I'm looking forward to Season 3. Abby's story needs to be told with the same care given to Ellie and Joel. It's not about forgetting what happened, but about understanding how we got here. The Last of Usremains one of modern gaming's most powerful stories, and the TV adaptation has the opportunity ahead to highlight its central theme even further: revenge may feel like an answer, but it doesn't bring anyone back.