The Last of Us and Philosophy E-Book
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- Herausgeber: John Wiley & Sons
- Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
- Serie: The Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture Series
- Sprache: Englisch
Did Joel do the right thing when he saved Ellie?
Are those infected by the Cordyceps conscious?
Are communities necessary for human survival and flourishing?
Should Ellie forgive Joel?
Is Abby’s revenge morally justified? Is Ellie’s?
The Last of Us franchise includes two of the best video games ever created and the critically acclaimed HBO series. Renowned for brilliant gameplay and world-class narrative, The Last of Us raises timeless and enduring philosophical questions. Beautiful, thrilling, and tragic, Ellie’s story of survival is as philosophical as it is profound.
The Last of Us and Philosophy brings together an international team of philosophical experts and fans exploring the timeless questions raised by the video games and the show. Drawing insights ranging from Aristotle and Abby to Buddha and Bill, this book elucidates the roles that trust, community, love, justice, and hope play in The Last of Us. Twenty-four original essays cover both The Last of Us Part I and II and the HBO series, offering accessible and nuanced philosophical analysis of Naughty Dog’s amazing world.
Whether you’re a fan of the video games or of the HBO series, The Last of Us and Philosophy will take you on a philosophical journey where you look for the light.
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Seitenzahl: 444
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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Table of Contents
Cover
Table of Contents
Series Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Contributors
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Part I: Joel’s Choice
1 Joel’s Choice
It’s Different in the Daylight
When You’re Lost in the Darkness
We Always Win
Dream of Sheep Ranches on the Moon
Not Today You New‐World‐Order Jack‐Boot Fucks
Notes
2 Justifying Joel
Utilitarian Leaders
Loving Protectors
In Favor of Favoritism
Paradoxical
Notes
3 “He Who Fights with Monsters”
The Joiners and the Tribalists in
The Last of Us
FEDRA, the Fireflies, and Utilitarianism
Tribalism, Communitarianism, and Aristotle
When You Gaze Too Long into the Abyss
Appreciating the Beauty of the Other Side
Notes
4 Is Humanity Worth Saving?
Pessimism and
The Last of Us
The Drive to Be Optimistic
What Can We Hope during the Apocalypse?
Optimism or Pessimism?
Notes
Part II: Justice
5 Is Ellie’s Revenge Ethically Justified?
Endorsing Ellie’s Quest for Revenge Is an Overtly Contradictory Ethical Position
Retributive Justice and the
Lex Talionis
The Requirement to Empathize with Abby
Challenging the Heroic Formula
While
Playing
Notes
6 Necessary Violence in
The Last of Us Part II
No Woman Is an Island
Other Pathways
What If Violence
Is
the Only Way?
Loss and Violence
Notes
7 Natural Law and Positive Law
Authority and the Force of the Law
Natural Law and Positive Law
Who Decides What’s the Right Thing to Do?
Should Justice Be as Blind as a Clicker?
Notes
8
The Last of Us,
Hobbes, and the State of Nature
You’re an Animal
Enter the Leviathan
Back to the State of Nature
They Got a Kid, Joel
If You Don’t Think There’s Hope for the World …
Are We More Than Animals?
Notes
9 Decision Making and Exclusion in
The Last of Us
Perspective Matters
Who Decides?
Unite and Empathize
Part III: The Individual and Society
10 Trust, Trustworthiness, and Betrayal in a Post‐Apocalyptic World
Trust in the World of
The Last of Us
Trust and Reliance
What Is Trust?
Did Joel Betray Ellie?
Epilogue
Notes
11 Caring for Ellie
Captain Kwong: “I See a Leader in You”
Joel: From Cargo to Caring?
Does Anyone Care for Ellie?
Notes
12 The Last of Love
When We Are in Need
Friendship and Flourishing
Long, Long Time
When You’re Lost in the Darkness
Notes
13 Ellie and Abby Are the Queer Feminist Icons We’ve Been Waiting For
Ellie and Feminism
Ellie and Queer Theory
Ellie and the Power of Imagination
Integration of Queer Ethics with Ellie and Abby’s Quests
Notes
Part IV: Monsters and Us
14 Kiss of a Cordy
Are We All Capable of Becoming Monsters?
Why Do We Need Monsters?
Is Joel a Hero or a Monster?
The Monsters Lurking Within Us
15 Self‐Deception and Moral Failure in
The Last of Us
Joel’s Self‐Deception
Ellie’s Quest for Justice
Abby’s Quest for Revenge
Avoiding Self‐Deception
Notes
16 What Is It Like to Be a Clicker?
Consciousness
What Doesn’t Kill You …
Fungal Cognition
Consciousness of the Infected
Consciousness and the Human Condition
Notes
17 Global Indigenous Philosophy
Now They Come
Don’t Tread on Me!
Hunkering in a Psycho Bunker
It’s Like a Spaceship
Mind Infections
Minding Interconnections
Notes
Part V: The Humanity of
The Last of Us
18 Better to Be Socrates Dissatisfied Than an Infected Satisfied?
Knock Knock, Anybody Home?
Of Unhappy Philosophers and Happy Pigs
The Struggle Is Real
Being Happy and Living Well
Keep Calm and Carry On
It’s Not a Race—But Who Won?
How to Live
Your
Best Life
Notes
19 Aesthetics at the End of the World
Aesthetic Experience in a Decaying World
Uncanny Forces
Working with the Broken
Uncanny Shadows
An Uncanny Aesthetics for an Uncanny World
Notes
20 Meaning and Emotion in the Music of
The Last of Us
“On the Nature of Daylight” by Max Richter
“Fuel to Fire” by Agnes Obel
“Never Let Me Down Again” Cover by Jessica Mazin
“The Last of Us (Vengeance)” by Gustavo Santaolalla
“The Last of Us” and “The Path” by Gustavo Santaolalla
Notes
21 “Some Folks Call This Thing Here a Gee‐Tar”
The Guitar
Schopenhauer and the Will
Music and the Will
Music and Emotions
Negative Emotions
Lorca and Duende
A Reconciliation
Notes
22 Humor and Human Intimacy in
The Last of Us
Humor as Plot Device: Sarcasm, Teasing, and Real Laughs
Puns and Penises: Humor in the Truck
Teasing, Growth, and Respite
Notes
Part VI: Religious Considerations at the End of the World
23 God as a Survival Tool
Survival Tools
David’s Religious Experience
Dina’s Faith
The Life of a Seraphite
Kant versus the Seraphites: What Must I Do?
What Can I Know? Surely Not God
Notes
24 “I Don’t Think I Can Ever Forgive You for That”
Forgiveness and the Unforgivable
The Torah, the Gospels, and the Unforgivable
Atheist Forgiveness
The Unforgivable (and Gameplay) in
The Last of Us
Seeking Forgiveness, Trying to Forgive
Notes
Index
End User License Agreement
Guide
Cover Page
Table of Contents
Series Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Contributors
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Begin Reading
Index
WILEY END USER LICENSE AGREEMENT
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The Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture SeriesSeries editor: William Irwin
A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, and a healthy helping of popular culture clears the cobwebs from Kant. Philosophy has had a public relations problem for a few centuries now. This series aims to change that, showing that philosophy is relevant to your life—and not just for answering the big questions like “To be or not to be?” but for answering the little questions: “To watch or not to watch South Park?” Thinking deeply about TV, movies, and music doesn’t make you a “complete idiot.” In fact, it might make you a philosopher, someone who believes the unexamined life is not worth living and the unexamined cartoon is not worth watching.
Already published in the series:
Alien and Philosophy: I Infest, Therefore I AmEdited by Jeffery A. Ewing and Kevin S. Decker
Avatar: The Last Airbender and PhilosophyEdited by Helen De Cruz and Johan De Smedt
Batman and Philosophy: The Dark Knight of the SoulEdited by Mark D. White and Robert Arp
The Big Bang Theory and Philosophy: Rock, Paper, Scissors, Aristotle, LockeEdited by Dean A. Kowalski
BioShock and Philosophy: Irrational Game, Rational BookEdited by Luke Cuddy
Black Mirror and PhilosophyEdited by David Kyle Johnson
Black Panther and PhilosophyEdited by Edwardo Pérez and Timothy Brown
Disney and Philosophy: Truth, Trust, and a Little Bit of Pixie DustEdited by Richard B. Davis
Dune and PhilosophyEdited by Kevin S. Decker
Dungeons and Dragons and Philosophy: Read and Gain Advantage on All Wisdom ChecksEdited by Christopher Robichaud
Game of Thrones and Philosophy: Logic Cuts Deeper Than SwordsEdited by Henry Jacoby
The Good Place and Philosophy: Everything Is Fine!Edited by Kimberly S. Engels
Star Wars and Philosophy Strikes BackEdited by Jason T. Eberl and Kevin S. Decker
The Ultimate Harry Potter and Philosophy: Hogwarts for MugglesEdited by Gregory Bassham
The Hobbit and Philosophy: For When You’ve Lost Your Dwarves, Your Wizard, and Your WayEdited by Gregory Bassham and Eric Bronson
Inception and Philosophy: Because It’s Never Just a DreamEdited by David Kyle Johnson
LEGO and Philosophy: Constructing Reality Brick by BrickEdited by Roy T. Cook and Sondra Bacharach
Metallica and Philosophy: A Crash Course in Brain SurgeryEdited by William Irwin
The Ultimate South Park and Philosophy: Respect My Philosophah!Edited by Robert Arp and Kevin S. Decker
The Ultimate Star Trek and Philosophy: The Search for SocratesEdited by Jason T. Eberl and Kevin S. Decker
The Ultimate Star Wars and Philosophy: You Must Unlearn What You Have LearnedEdited by Jason T. Eberl and Kevin S. Decker
Terminator and Philosophy: I’ll Be Back, Therefore I AmEdited by Richard Brown and Kevin S. Decker
Watchmen and Philosophy: A Rorschach TestEdited by Mark D. White
Westworld and Philosophy: If You Go Looking for the Truth, Get the Whole ThingEdited by James B. South and Kimberly S. Engels
Ted Lasso and PhilosophyEdited by Marybeth Baggett and David Baggett
Mad Max and PhilosophyEdited by Matthew P. Meyer and David Koepsell
Taylor Swift and PhilosophyEdited by Catherine M. Robb and Georgie Mills
Joker and PhilosophyEdited by Massimiliano L. Cappuccio, George A. Dunn, and Jason T. Eberl
The Witcher and PhilosophyEdited by Matthew Brake and Kevin S. Decker
The Last of Us and PhilosophyEdited by Charles Joshua Horn
For the full list of titles in the series seewww.andphilosophy.com
THE LAST OF US AND PHILOSOPHY
LOOK FOR THE LIGHT
Edited by
Charles Joshua Horn
University of Wisconsin Stevens PointStevens Point, USA
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Contributors
Survivors
Peter Admirand, like Ellie, enjoys comic books and wanted to be an astronaut as a child, but unlike her, he fears tight spaces, heights, the dark, and pun books. Enduring and surviving, he is a theologian, Deputy Head of School, and the Director of the Centre for Interreligious Dialogue at Dublin City University. Most recently, he authored a book examining the comics Y: The Last Man and Saga and is the editor of the forthcoming Theology and The Last of Us: Violence, Ethics, Redemption? If a fungal pandemic arises, his wife and five children know it’s safer to stick with her no matter how many Clickers he supposedly ambushed.
Federico Dal Barco is a PhD candidate in philosophy and the history of ideas at the University of Milan “San Raffaele” and the LMU München. Fearful of Cordyceps, he spends most of his time in a quarantine zone where he writes articles about modern philosophy and reviews for an Italian videogames journal. Surviving in the academic world is sometimes more challenging than dealing with raiders, but Immanuel Kant helps him to cope with the infections of editors and reviewers!
Steve Bein got infected by philosophy in his senior year of high school. From his brain it spread swiftly into his spinal column and extremities. These propelled him all over the planet, to contract various philosophical contagions in Illinois, Germany, Japan, Hawai‘i, Minnesota, New York, Texas, and now Ohio. There, he is Patient Zero at the University of Dayton, transmitting his now hideously complex syndrome to hundreds of unsuspecting students every year. He infects countless others through skin contact or aerial contact with his written work, which includes chapters in twenty‐two books and a handful of the top journals in the field. Though he obtained a doctorate in philosophy, he has been unable to develop a vaccine. There is no known cure.
Lance Belluomini is mostly known for having published the only academic essay on Tenet in The Palgrave Handbook of Popular Culture as Philosophy. He’s also contributed chapters to a variety of Wiley Blackwell volumes, most recently on Ted Lasso and Mad Max. Immediately after watching The Last of Us pilot, Lance went on Atkins (like Joel) to improve his odds of surviving any large‐scale fungal outbreak.
Mary Bernard is a Registered Mental Health Counselor Intern in private practice in Florida, where she counsels from an existential and feminist orientation. Mary was first infected by the philosophy bug as an undergraduate at Stetson University, where she majored in philosophy and French literature. An avid gamer, Mary binged the first season of The Last of Us after recognizing the title from various video game awards. A completionist at heart, when she was offered the epic quest of contributing to this volume with Dr. Susan Peppers‐Bates, she accepted without hesitation.
Enea Bianchi obtained his PhD at the University of Galway (Ireland), where he teaches in the Italian Department. He has published a book on the thought of Italian philosopher, Mario Perniola, and contributes to journals including the British Journal of Aesthetics and Journal for Cultural Research. He’s currently researching the aesthetics of catastrophe and traditional archery (being an archer himself). Perhaps that’s the reason why he finds solace in exploring post‐apocalyptic realms with bow and arrow, and that’s also why he felt a twinge of sadness when he realized that, alas, neither Joel nor Ellie uses this weaponry in the TV show. Dear Mr. Mazin and Mr. Druckmann, can you please consider incorporating this element in season 2?
Armond Boudreaux is Associate Professor of English at East Georgia State College. His publications include The Last Revolution technothriller series, and contributions to several volumes in the Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture series. He has been on the verge of becoming a full‐blown prepper for a long time, and writing this chapter might have been the thing that tipped him over the edge.
Per F. Broman is Professor of Music Theory at Bowling Green State University, Ohio. He never wanted to become a singer, but grew up playing his four‐string violin on the firefly‐infested porch. He likes to lose his mind in film music, modernist art music, and aesthetics, intertwining music theory, musicology, and philosophy with the harsh lessons of academic endurance and survival. As he walked through the scholarly valleys in Sweden, Canada, and the United States, he published on filmmaker Ingmar Bergman’s use of music and biographies of composers Karin Rehnqvist and Sven‐David Sandström. If somehow the Lord gave him a second chance in those moments, he would do it all over again.
Matthew Crippen grew up along the Nottawasaga River in a stretch of woods, not unlike where Bill lives in The Last of Us. Because his parents are biologists (among other things), he got to look at interesting organisms through microscopes from a young age. Though he's never dealt with a zombie apocalypse, he was in Egypt for a revolution and later a coup, and saw both the good and bad ways that people deal with crises. Since then, he's moved to Busan—famous for the zombie movie, Train to Busan—and taken an interest in how East Asian ideas contributed to the trajectory of classic American philosophies.
Michael K. Cundall Jr. became a philosophical zombie at age fourteen. His parents thought it was a phase, but the questions grew from sporadic to full fungal by the time he reached college, where he found the right growth conditions under which to pursue philosophy to its evolutionary zenith. He spends his time working on philosophical issues related to humor, laughter, and mirth. His recent book is The Humor Hack: Using Humor to Feel Better, Increase Resilience, and (Yes) Enjoy Your Work, and he’s currently working on a monograph exploring humor and the common good. When not watching The Last of Us, he can be found carving spoons and bowls. His favorite woods to carve have beautiful spalting—and that’s no joke.
Yassine Dguidegue was born and raised in Morocco, where his passion for understanding why certain religious beliefs promise heaven for some and hell for others took root. His deep interest in diverse cultural, religious, and national groups led him to explore and engage with their stories. Inspired by Ellie and Joel's narrative in The Last of Us, Yassine felt a connection to their struggles with not completely fitting into Quarantine Zones (QZs). This connection fueled his desire to write a chapter depicting the paternalistic actions of quarantine zones and their respective social institutions.
Darci Doll is Professor of Philosophy at Delta College in Michigan. She has written extensively on pop culture and philosophy, including on Anthony Bourdain, The Handmaid's Tale, Queen, and Better Call Saul. When she's not writing or teaching, she's really poetic and losing her mind with the people she loves.
Mariya Dvoskina is a psychologist in Denver, Colorado. Her work involves providing training, consultation, and therapy. When she is not head‐shrinking, she enjoys annoying her husband with mid‐movie plot analysis. She is a fan of dystopian fiction and consumes it in all its forms. Or does it consume her? Mariya is also a trained mushroom hunter (owing to her Russian heritage), so beware, Cordyceps!
Mackenzie Graham is Senior Research Fellow at the Ethox Centre, University of Oxford. He works primarily in practical ethics, and the philosophy of trust. He is a huge fan of video games in the post‐apocalyptic genre, though he probably wouldn’t last very long in a real zombie apocalypse.
Lucas Hinojosa‐López is a philosopher of biology at the University of Valparaíso, Chile. His research focuses on the impact of the mutualistic relationship between plants and fungi on their ecosystems. He seeks to evaluate whether the emergent abilities of plants in this relationship can be defined as cognitive. As an avid mushroom forager, he has inhaled countless spores while doing fieldwork in the forests of Chile, showing no signs of infection … yet. Some people claim that he talks to plants, but he claims that this is not a symptom of infection.
Charles Joshua Horn is Professor of Philosophy at the University of Wisconsin Stevens Point. He specializes in seventeenth‐ and eighteenth‐century philosophy (mostly focusing on the thought of Spinoza and Leibniz), metaphysics, and philosophy of religion. He also regularly plays and researches all sorts of video games. He has previously published several articles connecting philosophy to video games like The Legend of Zelda, Bioshock, and God of War. Aside from Joel and Ellie’s journey, the only other escort mission he’s ever liked is the one with his children, Sophia and Jonah, even though sometimes they’re more trouble than Cordyceps or raiders.
Daniel Irwin is an aspiring screenwriter and filmmaker. In his free time, he loves building Lego sets, hunting for collectibles around the neighborhood with his dog Duncan, and (of course) playing video games. When he played The Last of Us Part I, he was younger than Ellie in that game, and now he's older than Ellie from Part II.
William Irwin is Professor of Philosophy at King’s College in Pennsylvania and is the General Editor of the Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture series. In addition to his work on popular culture, Irwin has published the novel Little Siddhartha and two books of poetry, Always Dao and Both/And. Like Joel, Bill loves music, has a goofy sense of humor, and maybe shows a bit of bias toward his family.
Clint Wesley Jones teaches philosophy at Capital University in Columbus, Ohio. His scholarly work focuses on environmental problems, utopianism, pop culture, Marxist philosophy, and issues in critical social theory. He has contributed to several Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture volumes, including those on Inception and Mad Max. His most recent book, Contemporary Cowboys, is an edited volume that examines the changing role of the cowboy in contemporary cultural mythologies. Though he one day hopes to be a survivor in a zombie apocalypse, he is equally sure that he doesn't want it to be one started by Cordyceps.
Tim Jones is Course Leader for the BA in Psychology with Sociology at City College Norwich in the UK, where he also lectures on their Access to Higher Education Diploma in the Humanities and Social Sciences. His absolutely ideal module would take a speculative look at the new social forces and structures impacting individuals in a world devastated by Cordyceps, but he's instead stuck lecturing on digitalization and climate change. He lives with his wife and two cats, who’d totally have ripped Ellie to shreds if she’d dare go near them with a shiv.
Quân Nguyen is a teaching fellow at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland. He researches feminist philosophy and climate ethics, and has worked as a climate campaigner—but he also hates mushrooms, so he was extra excited about a video game and TV series that both cover climate and environmental change and at the same time serve as a warning about the dangers of fungal life forms.
Alberto Oya is Investigador Doutorado Contratado at the Instituto de Filosofia da Nova (Universidade Nova de Lisboa, Portugal). He is the author of The Metaphysical Anthropology of Julián Marías, First‐Person Shooter Videogames, and Unamuno’s Religious Fictionalism. He has published over thirty papers in professional philosophical peer‐reviewed journals. It saddens him that Ellie from the video game didn’t get the chance to play in a working arcade.
Susan Peppers‐Bates is Associate Professor of Philosophy and Chair of the Philosophy Department at Stetson University, where she teaches and splits her research between Nicolas Malebranche, feminist philosophy, the philosophy of race, and the philosophy of religion. Though she loves most science fiction, she loathes most horror and only agreed to watch The Last of Us so her partner could prepare for its house at Halloween Horror Nights. To both of their surprise, she was immediately infected and so craved yet more fungal contact that she sought out the video games and tracked down the editor of this anthology. Her children, Robin and Anne‐Marie, alas share her horror of horror and won’t be reading her contribution.
Traci Phillipson is Assistant Professor of Philosophy at Loras College in Dubuque, Iowa. She specializes in the history of philosophy, especially medieval philosophy in the Latin and Arabic traditions, while also working in ethics and the philosophy of religion. She isn’t sure that she’d survive a Cordyceps outbreak, or that she’d want to.
Remis Ramos Carreño teaches philosophy at the Universidad Alberto Hurtado in Santiago, Chile. He has expended most of his experience points upgrading his philosophy of mind and cognitive science skill trees, researching how and why humans and other animals are able to acquire abstract mental representations and concepts. He has been playing video games since he was a nerdy little kid in the early 1980s, when arcade machines were a staple in every neighborhood instead of being a distant relic of the past.
Juliele Maria Sievers is Professor of Philosophy at the Federal University of Alagoas, Brazil. She has unlocked several achievements during her character arc. After graduating and getting her Master’s Degree from the Federal University of Santa Maria in Brazil, she moved on to the hard mode of doctoral studies at the University of Lille 3 in France, followed by a legendary mode working as Wissenschaftlicher Mitarbeiterin at the University of Konstanz in Germany. After that, her character's journey brought her back to her homeland, where she was a postdoctoral researcher, before beginning to work in her current position. She is interested in the connections between philosophy and literature and normativity, has published works on philosophy and video games, sci‐fi films and series, and is constantly researching about other ways of doing and playing with philosophy.
Dylan Skurka is a philosophy PhD student at York University in Canada. His research focuses on the intersection between transcendental phenomenology and the philosophy of psychiatry, perilously straddling the line between the Continental Philosophy Fireflies and the Analytic Philosophy Disaster Response Agency (or APEDRA, for short) in their post‐apocalyptic battle in the unforgiving wilderness of academic philosophy. He heads his school’s graduate student philosophy blog, Brainwandering, and his work has been published in Philosophy Now. In his spare time, he enjoys infecting his wife Sasha and their baby on the way with bad jokes and incoherent rants about Edmund Husserl.
Acknowledgments
Thank Who You Can Thank
Unlike the survivalist, Bill, I couldn’t have accomplished this project alone. I’m very thankful to each of the authors who contributed thoughtful and original chapters that were even better than what I had in mind when I envisioned the book. The chapters were a pleasure to read, teaching me a lot and heightening my appreciation of the video games and the show.
A special thanks to my former professor, Scott Davison, too. In 2003 (over 20 years ago!), I started my undergraduate work at Morehead State University, and he had just published an essay in The Lord of the Rings and Philosophy. Davison’s essay was on how Tolkien could help us think about the nature of evil, and it helped make sense of some of the earliest philosophical questions I had from growing up in the Bible Belt in Eastern Kentucky. Davison’s work, and the Blackwell Pop Culture and Philosophy series more generally, had a profound impact on my education and interests, and inspired me to continue studying philosophy. It’s my sincere hope that this volume has the same impact on young philosophers, too.
I also want to thank William Irwin, the editor for the Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture series, who has been a tremendous source of support and encouragement from the first moment that I proposed this volume in 2014, not long after The Last of Us was released. With his guidance, patience, and keen insight, there wasn’t an instance where I felt lost in the darkness.
And, of course, a special thanks to my children, Sophia and Jonah, who give me hope for Future Days. Daddy loves you, baby girl and boy.
Introduction
No Questions Left Behind
The Last of Us is a story wrapped in contradictions. It’s dark, but hopeful. It’s simple, yet has layers upon layers of complexity. And it depicts humanity both at its worst and its best. Using a fictional post‐apocalyptic setting during a fungal pandemic, the story of The Last of Us follows Ellie, a young girl immune to the Cordyceps infection.
Ellie’s story couldn’t be told without her protector, Joel, who lost his daughter, Sarah, on the first day of the outbreak. Over the course of the first video game and the first season of the show, Joel grows to love and care for Ellie as if she was his own daughter, culminating in a pivotal moment when he kills the Firefly doctors who were going to sacrifice Ellie’s life in hopes of finding a cure for the infection. After rescuing her, Joel doubles down on his morally questionable actions and lies to Ellie, telling her that the Fireflies found others immune from the infection like Ellie, that they couldn’t find a cure, and that they have stopped looking. Lying to Ellie was the only way to protect her from going back to the Fireflies to sacrifice herself for the greater good.
Joel’s choice to kill the doctors has been controversial ever since the first video game was released in 2013, leading some to wonder whether we were unwittingly playing the villain of the story all along. It’s quite reasonable to think that Joel’s actions were morally blameworthy. After all, he killed doctors trying to save humanity and then lied about it. And it’s quite reasonable to think that the doctors were morally praiseworthy for thinking of the greater good. Ellie’s death, while tragic, might have led to saving countless people. On the other hand, some might quite reasonably argue that Joel was protecting Ellie because his moral obligation was not to the world, but to the young girl he loved and promised to protect. Maybe Joel’s actions weren’t praiseworthy, exactly, but they weren’t blameworthy either. In other words, Joel might not be a hero, but he isn’t a villain either.
In The Last of Us Part II, the second video game in the series, we find Abby, the daughter of the main Firefly doctor, seeking revenge against Joel. In the earliest moments of the video game, Abby finds, tortures, and kills Joel in front of Ellie. The second video game is primarily a story about revenge and its costs, as it follows Ellie and Abby, whose stories mirror each other in complicated and compelling ways. Ellie, like Abby, has lost a father in moments of cruel violence in the name of justice. We might wonder whether their revenge is morally justified, and more broadly, whether morality and justice even exist in the world of The Last of Us.
The Last of Us is filled to the brim with great characters, but they don’t exist in a vacuum. They grow and develop together. People need each other—community is necessary for being human, and it’s even more necessary in a world filled with Clickers, Bloaters, cannibals, raiders, slavers, and more. But how is it possible to have trust and genuine relationships with others when there are threats around every corner? How can we genuinely care for others, when such care may get us killed, infected, or worse? And perhaps most importantly, is there more to living than just surviving? Looking to Bill’s relationship with Frank, we have to ask what good security is if you don’t have someone to share it with. Sometimes a packet of strawberry seeds might just be more important than a gun.
Because the characters are connected with each other, we can think of their actions not just in moral terms, but political terms, as well. So, in addition to considering whether our favorite characters are moral or immoral, we can also ask questions about the broader systems that govern their world. Is FEDRA a legitimate political power? Does Marlene have legal authority over the Fireflies? Are the rules imposed in the quarantine zones legal or just? Addressing these questions about the Last of Us can help us make sense of the moral and political questions in our world, too.
As much as The Last of Us is about the morally complex and controversial actions of characters like Ellie, Joel, Abby, and others, it is also about understanding and appreciating the softer moments that speak to our humanity. Can beauty still be found in a world ravaged by disease and the collapse of society? How does Ellie’s joke book help to develop her relationships with Riley and Joel? How does Joel’s guitar and playing music to Ellie help him recover and heal from the loss of his daughter? More succinctly, how important are art, music, and humor to humanity?
On the surface, The Last of Us is a story about surviving in a post‐apocalyptic setting, but looking deeper we see it is much more than that. The Last of Us helps us to confront and understand what makes us distinctly human. What is the proper way to understand concepts like love, justice, hope, responsibility, community, and forgiveness? These and other questions await. So, throw on your backpack and come along for the journey. With this book as a guide through the darkness, we’ll look for the light together.
Part IJoel’s Choice
1Joel’s ChoiceApocalyptic Fantasies, Dystopian Hope, and the Post‐Human Question
Clint Wesley Jones
Apocalyptic stories are generally fun escapist forms of entertainment, and this is especially true of the apocalyptic stories that have dominated popular culture for more than two decades now. Zombies in varying forms, emerging from divergent sources, and aimlessly shambling about a broken world, infest the contemporary imagination.1 But The Last of Us stands apart from the typical zombie stories of the last few decades, and serves as a unique contribution to the genre of apocalyptic literature and media. In The Last of Us, the Infected aren’t generated from industrial catastrophes such as nuclear fallout, chemical spills, or lab‐created diseases, but rather from the accelerated global climate shift that alters the environment enough that Cordyceps can migrate beyond its “natural” boundaries to a new environment—the human.
To properly understand apocalyptic fantasies like The Last of Us, it’s important to read them within the framework of capitalist‐driven social forces, because it’s easier to imagine the world ending than it is to imagine capitalism ending. As Jeffrey Jerome Cohen argues, “Apocalypse is a failure of the imagination, a giving up on the future instead of a commitment to the difficult work of composing a better present.”2 Cohen is pointing to “dystopian hope” which resides at the heart of contemporary apocalyptic stories.3 Dystopian hope resonates with consumers as escapist and renders catastrophic futures as desirable, as the only way to “reset” civilization so that we (the survivors) can right the wrongs of society.
Joel’s ultimate refusal to save humanity, stripping the survivors of the reset they desire, and, instead, opting for a post‐human existence in the aftermath of Cordyceps, puts The Last of Us in a unique position to answer what the right thing to do is in the aftermath of an apocalypse. Joel’s decision to save Ellie is justified by rejecting the dystopian hope that resonates with consumers of apocalyptic stories. Joel is a different kind of survivor.
It’s Different in the Daylight
Devastation and revelation are the two sides of apocalyptic storytelling. “Apocalypse” is generally understood to be a revelation of some sort, usually divine in nature, but this needn’t be the case. In fact, on the devastation side, some catastrophes are described in apocalyptic terms even though they don’t meet apocalyptic standards. For instance, in the wake of a Category‐5 hurricane, news reporters might describe an apocalyptic landscape. Such descriptions compel the imagination. So when someone is confronted with an apocalyptic story, they conjure up similar ideas, while omitting more relevant or pertinent details necessary to understand an apocalyptic world. For instance, an apocalypse can’t be localized, but must be global and total in its reach; everyone may be affected to different degrees, but everyone must be affected.
A dystopia can come into existence without any apocalyptic underpinnings just as surely as an apocalypse could occur without causing undue destruction in its wake. Dystopias and apocalypses are usually conceptually linked because the world is often depicted as falling apart. It’s critically important that, when addressing apocalyptic stories, we remember that utopian and dystopian communities both exist. Utopias and dystopias are sociopolitical arrangements, while apocalyptic forces are imposed on communities and are totalizing in their destruction.4
A destructive apocalypse would certainly destroy the world as we currently know it, but the way people chose to live in the aftermath would be describable in utopian and dystopian terms. The aftermath of many destructive apocalypses would most likely be a dystopian setting. The Last of Us doesn’t depict the aftermath of the apocalypse in dystopian terms except for the abandoned cities we’re shown. The larger world seems to have escaped the destruction of the Cordyceps infection and serves as the basis for dystopian hope.
The Last of Us is an apocalyptic story, albeit a unique one, and our first task is understanding what makes this apocalyptic tale substantially different from, say, The Walking Dead.5The Walking Dead is one of the most popular apocalyptic stories ever told, but the focus of the story is squarely on the time immediately after the fall of humanity. This is generally true of most apocalyptic stories that use some variety of infected as the apocalyptic catalyst for society’s downfall. In Robert Kirkman’s narrative the reader goes from normal to zombie apocalypse in the first page turn, which accounts for roughly six weeks. The Last of Us, by contrast, jumps forward twenty years and forces us to contend with a significantly different set of questions about the post‐apocalyptic world. Not only that, but it generates its apocalyptic catalyst from an environmental force derived from climate shift, or, what we might think of as a genuinely green apocalypse.
When You’re Lost in the Darkness
While it might seem like all apocalypses are the same, the reality is that not all end‐of‐the‐world stories are similar.6The Last of Us eschews the usual approaches by simply allowing Cordyceps to evolve beyond its natural boundaries. As Dr. Neuman points out in 1968 in episode 1, there is no cure for something like a fungal outbreak. Fast‐forward to September 24, 2003, and Dr. Ratna Pertiwi in Jakarta, at what is ostensibly Ground Zero, says the only reasonable response to the infection is to “bomb” the city. Dr. Ratna’s response indicates that there still isn’t a cure available for a Cordyceps fungal infection. In fact, that her first thought is to bomb a city suggests that she may not believe a cure is even possible. Here we get the seeds of a typical apocalypse.
Simultaneously across America and, presumably, the world, people transform into monsters and begin spreading the fungal infection, causing widespread chaos.7 The chaos is depicted in the military response, houses ablaze, planes falling from the sky, and a massive conversion of uninfected to infected in a short time span.8 Life as we know it is over. If The Last of Us were a typical “zombie story,” then most of its narrative would follow survivors of the initial outbreak as they attempted to navigate the immediate post‐apocalyptic world. Instead, The Last of Us jumps forward twenty years and presents a world well beyond the immediate aftermath of social collapse.
For instance, we know that the military bombed most major cities to contain the spread of Cordyceps, yet all the Quarantine Zones (QZs) are in major cities. These facts suggest that the bombs dropped weren’t nuclear, but also that there weren’t many dropped; otherwise, the major population hubs, like Boston, Atlanta, Kansas City, or Pittsburgh, would’ve been leveled, something which clearly isn’t the case. Moveover, if the Cordyceps infection happened at roughly the same time, as Joel suggests to Ellie, then given the nature of the infection and how widespread it is, it’s unlikely that chemical plants, oil refineries, nuclear facilities, mining operations, and so on would have been safely shut down or taken offline in the chaos that would have ensued from the start of the infestation and the days immediately afterward.
These facilities and their adjacent problems—like slurry ponds or soil or air toxification—would devastate the world in the aftermath of an apocalyptic event, especially since most of these types of industry are in or near major population centers which were being bombed. Even if all of these industries were properly shut down, the bombs would’ve destabilized them and the major population centers would’ve been uninhabitable in the immediate aftermath. But The Last of Us avoids these problems which might cease, in many instances, to be life‐threatening problems after two decades, and this goes for a whole host of problems that would typically emerge in the immediate aftermath of a post‐apocalyptic world. The essence of dystopian hope that The Last of Us emphasizes so well is that the world will survive a catastrophic apocalyptic event and we can go on living in it with concerns only for the monsters and marauders that populate the planet.
When looking at the world that emerges in The Last of Us, it’s clear that the frailty of human civilization has impeded the ability of communities to navigate the world. In such a world, highly specialized knowledge, in many communities, would vanish. Medical expertise, various types of engineering, high‐level mathematics, agriculture, history, technology, and philosophy would be hindered in growth, development, and their ability to adequately handle Cordyceps as a common and pervasive enemy. The frustration of not being able to handle the state of world is made explicit by Joel when he tells Tess, “Vaccines, miracle cures. None of it works. Ever.”
Over two decades, once vanquished diseases would reemerge in human society without vaccines and qualified people to administer them. Building and building maintenance would be incredibly difficult, especially as heavy machinery became unusable. Communication would be increasingly difficult as batteries failed, and travel would not only be dangerous due to raiders, hunters, slavers, and Cordyceps, but also, after two decades, roadways, dams, bridges, and other infrastructure would fall apart. These changes would mark a return to a more natural, that is, less human environment. In short, the world would be incredibly hostile to humans regardless of the threat posed by Cordyceps. Dystopian hope, perhaps evidenced best by the community in Jackson, Wyoming, would lead us to believe that we can turn things around, control for the worst, and do better than merely subsist. We would believe we can conquer the world anew.
We Always Win
Though the Infected are the main feature of the collapsed world in The Last of Us, the significant difference between this story and other similar narratives is how they approach dystopian hope. The problem with contemporary apocalyptic storytelling is that stories often trade on the same trope—with the end of civilization as we currently understand it, there’s the possibility for something better. Once the apocalypse happens, if we can just weather the post‐apocalyptic landscape for a couple of years, then we can rebuild society and build it back better than it was. All we need is a little time and the right plucky group of survivors to remake the world.9
These types of stories invite us to consider what we would do differently and, importantly, why we would do things differently. Everything can be called into question. Every social stigma can be erased, every injustice wiped clean, and everybody gets a fresh start if you can just survive a year or two. The Last of Us depicts no such opportunity. Twenty years of battling the elements, each other, Cordyceps, and so much else, and human society is still teetering on the edge of total collapse. We can see this examination of dystopian hope in the communities that Joel and Ellie interact with throughout their story. These communities encapsulate the essence of why apocalyptic and dystopian fictions are problematic, but they also help explain why Joel’s choice to save Ellie is incredibly significant.
Dream of Sheep Ranches on the Moon
In The Last of Us Part I and season 1 of the show, the vaccine is central, as it is in most stories of the genre. The critical difference between The Last of Us and its counterparts is that the solution to the apocalypse of infected is left in the hands of Joel. Having begun to see Ellie as a surrogate for Sarah by the time they reach Salt Lake City, Joel can’t sacrifice her for the greater good.10 Joel’s reluctance to deliver Ellie to the Fireflies overrides her desire to follow through because, “it can’t all be for nothing.” Once Joel learns the truth from Marlene, that the fungus must be removed from Ellie’s brain, resulting in her death, he must decide whether to allow her to be sacrificed for a possible vaccine or attempt to save her from the Fireflies by any means necessary. Joel’s decision is the most significant break with other apocalyptic stories because Joel doesn’t give in to dystopian hope, but rather, effectively ends humanity’s chance to return to pre‐apocalyptic fantasies.11
It’s abundantly clear, regardless of which community you view it in relation to, that there is no going back to the way things were and there is no bringing civilization back better than before. Not only have several QZs been overrun by infected or revolutionaries, but several have also been abandoned. After twenty years, this instability certainly indicates an ongoing backsliding into primitivity for those still living in the shrinking QZs. Access to material goods, the loss of manufacturing, increased population density or, worse, the loss of people, all tally up to increased hardship and the inability of FEDRA to provide security for people.
Tommy’s group, to the extent it would be possible, has no designs on expansion, evidenced by their unwillingness to allow outsiders to join their collective. Perhaps with a vaccine, they would change their mind, but Joel’s decision to save Ellie effectively eliminates that possibility. However, the vaccine would help the Fireflies. The Fireflies openly recruit people, have a large network of cells that could draw people away from the QZs, or use those people to overthrow FEDRA, allowing the Fireflies to take immediate possession of FEDRA’s resources. Marlene’s willingness to sacrifice Ellie hinges on this vision and the promise of a return to pre‐apocalyptic civilization. That Marlene doesn’t see the world as irrevocably broken in the way that Joel does is apparent in their exchange in the parking garage of the hospital. Marlene tells Joel that Ellie “lives in a broken world that you could have saved.”
Joel refuses to sacrifice Ellie because he no longer thinks of her as cargo and doesn’t suffer from dystopian hope.12 But Tess clearly does when she reveals her bite to Joel and demands that he make and keep a promise to deliver Ellie to the Fireflies. She may have been without hope before, but Ellie’s immunity has restored it. At the end of their journey, Joel still doesn’t believe a vaccine is possible, and even if it is, he doesn’t believe the world could ever go back to the way it was. Joel’s choice to save Ellie is motivated by the wrong reasons, his care and concern for Ellie, but he ultimately chooses to do the right thing; with or without a vaccine, we can’t return the world to its pre‐apocalyptic condition.
Not Today You New‐World‐Order Jack‐Boot Fucks
Joel helps us see that dystopian hope is flawed. His choice isn’t just to save Ellie, but to force humanity to rethink how it’s going to live in a post‐apocalyptic world.13 There are many similarities between The Last of Us and other apocalyptic tales, but the significance of The Last of Us is that it doesn’t ask us to think of how we would rebuild the world into something better. Rather, it asks us to consider how we’re going to inhabit a post‐apocalyptic world in which we’re not the most dominant force for change. Joel’s choice to save Ellie places all the survivors into a post‐human condition where being human must begin to mean something radically new.
Notes
1
. Ashley Dawson,
Extinction: A Radical History
(New York: O/R Books, 2016), 16.
2
. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen, “Grey,”
Prismatic Ecology: Ecotheory beyond Green
(Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2013), 285.
3
. For a more thorough examination of this concept see my
Apocalyptic Ecology in the Graphic Novel: Life and the Environment after Societal Collapse
(Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Co., 2020).
4
. Though I won’t pursue the dystopian aspect of
The Last of Us
further, for more on dystopian social arrangements, see Gregory Claeys,
Dystopia: A Natural History
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017). For more on the intersection of dystopia and apocalypse see my
Apocalyptic Ecology in the Graphic Novel: Life and the Environment after Societal
Collapse.
5
. Robert Kirkman,
The Walking Dead: Compendium One
(Portland, OR: Image Comics, 2009).
6
. Nuclear origins betoken a different post‐apocalypse than does a viral one; say, the world of
Snowpiercer
versus
The Walking Dead
. Human‐made viruses can become apocalyptic in different ways which might hinge on how fast the virus is able to spread or who is at risk, as in stories like
Y: The Last Man
or
Sweet Tooth
. Even stories that rely on climate shift usually focus on rising oceans or unbreathable air to draw attention to the perils of our current situation.
7
. This claim is grounded in the narrative of the HBO show rather than the video game, given the Jakarta story arc which sets the foundation for the outbreak in the show.
8
. The timespan of the Cordyceps apocalypse is a somewhat difficult thing to nail down. In the video game, there is a boy’s journal that is discoverable in Bill’s town which insinuates that the apocalypse still hasn’t reached the town several weeks after the outbreak. However, the HBO show seems to insinuate that things go from bad (Jakarta) to worse (apocalypse) in about thirty‐six hours, and is widespread and simultaneous, although this is complicated by the flashback scene at the beginning of episode 3 which shows the military “evacuating” Bill’s town with no Infected in sight.
9
