POST-APOCALYPTIC SHENANIGANS
Also for: Playstation 3
Released both as story DLC and as a standalone short game, The Last of Us: Left Behind explores a handful of events the main game either skipped or only briefly alluded to: what happened between the “Fall” and “Winter” chapters of The Last of Us, and what led up to Ellie coming to terms with a deeply personal truth about herself.
The game jumps back and forth between these two timelines, leaving a few cliffhangers dangling before a dramatic ending decides we’ve seen enough. If you haven’t played the main game first, you should. You control Ellie in both storylines, and one of them centers on what must be one of gaming’s worst-kept secrets—that she’s gay. The reason this revelation never really stayed under wraps is probably simple: the LGBTQ community had just been handed one of the most convincingly written and acted characters in the medium. That felt worth celebrating. After all, why treat it like something shameful?
The love story between Ellie and her best friend Riley is tender and authentic. It captures young love in all its hesitant, awkward innocence, functioning as a brief escape from an otherwise bleak world. But when reality intrudes here, it does so brutally. This largely expository storyline is also where Left Behind experiments a little, introducing playful “gameplay” diversions: a car-demolition contest, an imaginary fighting game, and a stealthy water-gun sequence. These moments portray two teenagers trying to manufacture one last pocket of carefree joy before responsibility—and tragedy—sets in. And yes, it also finally explains how Ellie got her infamous book of puns.
If the other half of the game consists of material cut from the main story, I can understand why. It has Ellie searching for antibiotics in yet another shopping mall. Its inclusion here feels somewhat strained, but if it had to exist anywhere, this is probably the least intrusive place. At least both timelines share a location, which gives the structure some cohesion. Thematically, it may even reflect Ellie’s rapid transition from self-discovery to self-sacrifice, as her reasons for risking her life shift accordingly.
The controls, enemies, and weapons are unchanged from the main game, making the combat sequences feel largely familiar. Ammunition is scarce, forcing you to rely heavily on bricks and bottles—the only resources this world seems to offer in endless supply. The one genuinely new wrinkle is encounters where human enemies and the infected appear simultaneously. Whether that’s a curse or a blessing depends entirely on your creativity.
Joel’s absence looms large across both storylines. Personally, I don’t find The Last of Us—or Naughty Dog’s cinematic adventures in general—particularly engaging without strong character interplay. The gameplay alone isn’t compelling enough to carry extended stretches. Riley’s presence alleviates that somewhat, but she’s only around for roughly half the experience. And like a short film, no matter how effective, Left Behind ends just as you’re fully invested.
Clocking in at only a couple of hours, Left Behind is ultimately good but slightly underwhelming. The fractured, back-and-forth narrative works better here than it often does elsewhere—a minor miracle, given how intrusive such structures can feel in immersive games. It shows us moments I didn’t necessarily need to see, but it presents them with enough care that I don’t regret the time spent. The storyline with Riley is genuinely affecting; the other exists mainly to inject tension and familiarity. In the larger context of the series, Left Behind feels like a story told in parentheses—meaningful, but not essential.
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