The Last of Us: A Journey Years in the Making

Some childhood dreams fade with time. Others stick with you, waiting for the right moment to come alive. For me, one of those dreams was owning a PlayStation. And recently, I made it happen—I finally got my hands on a PS5.

Growing up, video games were my main escape. I spent countless hours glued to the screen, completely immersed in different worlds. My early gaming days were all about FIFA 2002, then Pro Evolution Soccer 2006 (does PES even exist anymore? I digress). Over the years, my gaming journey took me through all kinds of titles, leading up to what was probably my most intense phase—World of Warcraft.

During my first two years of college, I was completely hooked. I’m talking 10 hours a day level of addiction. In hindsight, not my best decision. I could have saved myself a lot of academic trouble if I had taken it easy, but hey—no regrets, right? The breaking point came after I finally earned the Light of Dawn title in Wrath of the Lich King on a private server called Warzone (no idea if that still exists). One morning, I woke up and thought, That’s it. I’m done. I decided then and there—no more MMORPGs, no more endless grinding. It was time to focus on my degree. And honestly? Best decision ever. That split-second choice shaped where I am today.

Of course, I didn’t quit gaming entirely. I just learned moderation. Fast forward to COVID lockdowns, and like everyone else, I had nothing better to do. I dabbled in shooters with friends (I can’t even remember the name of one of them), played some Rocket League (and sucked at it), and got into Apex Legends with my brother. I really wanted to play Warzone when it dropped, but my laptop at the time was garbage—it couldn’t run the game at a playable FPS.

A year or two later, after landing my first job, I saved up for a proper gaming laptop—an Omen 15 with an RTX 2060. Finally, I could run anything. I played God of War, Elden Ring (spent way too many hours on that one), and a bunch of other high-end titles. But all this time, there was one game I always wanted to play. A game people called one of the greatest of all time, with one of the best stories ever told. A game I had watched countless gameplay videos of, completely blown away by every aspect of it. But there was one problem—it was a PlayStation exclusive.

Now, with my PS5 finally in hand, there was no hesitation. The first game I installed? The Last of Us Remastered. And oh boy, was it worth the wait.

From the moment the opening sequence hit, I knew I was in for something special. The way the game pulls you in emotionally—no warning, no buildup, just straight-up heartbreak—is something few games dare to do. I had seen bits and pieces over the years, but experiencing it firsthand was on a whole other level.

The atmosphere was gripping—every corner of that world felt lived-in, every abandoned house told a story, and every encounter felt tense, like a fight for survival. I loved how the game didn’t just rely on action but forced you to slow down, take in the silence, listen to the wind rushing through a broken window, or the distant growls of infected lurking in the shadows. And the characters? Masterfully written.

Joel, the rugged survivor, hardened by loss, carrying the weight of his past like a ghost he can never shake. Ellie, fiery and rebellious, yet vulnerable in a way that made her feel incredibly real. Their journey together wasn’t just about survival—it was about trust, about breaking down walls, about finding meaning in a world that had long since fallen apart. Every moment, every conversation between them felt natural, like two lost souls clinging to the only thing they had left—each other.

And then there was the combat—brutal, raw, and unforgiving. Every bullet counted. Every fight felt desperate. The sheer tension of sneaking past a Clicker, holding my breath as it crept inches away, was something I hadn’t felt in a game in years. When a fight broke out, it wasn’t flashy—it was dirty, chaotic, like a real struggle to stay alive.

By the time I reached the ending, I was speechless. That final decision, the weight of it—it lingered in my mind long after the credits rolled. The Last of Us wasn’t just a game. It was an experience.

And as soon as I finished, there was no question about what was next—I immediately jumped into The Last of Us Part II.

If I thought the first game was a masterpiece, the second one took everything to another level. The visuals? Stunning. Every environment felt richer, more detailed, almost photorealistic at times. The game mechanics? Smoother, more fluid—stealth, combat, and exploration all felt refined to perfection. But the story? That’s what hit the hardest.

Part II wasn’t afraid to challenge expectations. It wasn’t just about continuing the journey—it was about consequences. About the cycle of violence. About how every action has a ripple effect, and how no one walks away from revenge unchanged. It forced me to see things from different perspectives, to question motives, to feel things I didn’t expect to feel. There were moments that made me sit back and just process what had happened, moments that left me conflicted, angry, heartbroken, and in awe all at once.

And of course, Ellie. Her growth, her struggles, her pain—it all felt real. Watching her change, seeing her unravel under the weight of everything she had been through, made for one of the most emotionally charged gaming experiences I’ve ever had.

I’m still making my way through Part II, but one thing is already clear—this isn’t just a game series. It’s a journey. One that stays with you long after you put the controller down.

Funny how things come full circle. That kid playing FIFA 2002 on a dusty old computer would’ve never imagined that, years later, he’d finally own a PlayStation and dive into some of the best games ever made. And honestly? It was worth every second of the wait.