PS3 swansong, The Last of Us, is the latest in a long line of last generation hits to get a hasty new-gen lick of paint. The original version was very well received, something this new 'Remastered' offering's box is keen to point out with its loud and clear 'over 200 game of the year awards' boast. Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seat belts and try to stay calm, as we prepare to not only fly in the face of popular critical opinion, but smack it right in the chops.
The exquisitely presented cutscenes are, not so much the glue, but rather the generously applied duct tape that holds The Last of Us together. The voice acting, script, motion capture work and facial animation are all superb, but the game relies a little too heavily on them to imbue players with the emotional impetus to persevere through the done-to-death third person gameplay.
And therein lies the problem. Behind the slick HBO style adultainment veneer lies a woefully unoriginal trope; a personal apocalypse narrative seen through the eyes of a tortured hero who's moral compass points forever North, that has been the staple diet of 20-to-40-something readers, viewers and players for years now. Familiarity breeds contempt, and in gaming terms, an uphill struggle to produce any kind of audience engagement. Although I've a way to go before the credits roll, I'm far enough through to be quite sure that an epiphany moment, whereby everything falls into place and I suddenly see what all the fuss is about, is simply not going to come.
I'll issue an update should I feel differently having actually crossed the finish line, but so far, The Last of Us Remastered has been just another bleak future vision of overgrown cities, unkept beards and half-eaten brains, with tired gameplay to boot. One thing's for sure, when human civilisation finally does fold, we should all know exactly what to expect, given how many near-identical dress rehearsals we've had forced upon us.
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