Do you remember the movie critics Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert? Admittedly quite awhile ago, their show “At the Movies” syndicated in 1982 until Gene Siskel’s death in 1999 ran for 17 years, and featured their often conflicting reviews of a new movie. Before that they first appeared together in a monthly show on a local Chicago PBS station in 1975, quite a career for critics! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siskel_and_Ebert

I never saw most of what they reviewed but I greatly enjoyed watching them and how they did what they did: two friends discussing the themes and performances, often clashing but clearly friends, each arguing his point of view, thumbs up or down.

As I watched Season One of the HBO series, The Last of Us, (and wrote about it here), in February 2023, I had hoped to read an online review with that same sort of give-and-take. Alas, none to be found. 

Well, Season Two is finally here and, after Sunday’s grueling episode (IYKYK) I had some thoughts. So I turned to my new writing partner, ChatGPT (Chet) to help me work through some of the tricky and emotionally difficult terrain of this season’s show. Hopefully no spoilers below, and truthfully this show or genre isn’t for everyone, but if you are a fan of post-apocalyptic doomscapes, read along. My questions appear in bold, followed by Chet’s response below.

In the video game and TV show The Last of Us, the infected humans infect others by biting them. How do they continue to exist? What do they eat?

Chet replied:

Great question—and a creepy one, too! In The Last of Us, the infected are people who’ve been taken over by the Cordyceps fungus. This fungus hijacks their brains and bodies, turning them into violent, zombie-like creatures that spread the infection by biting others. But yeah—it raises a big question: How do they survive if they don’t seem to eat like normal living things?

Here’s the breakdown:

1. They don’t need traditional food

The infected aren’t technically “alive” in the way humans are. Once the Cordyceps fungus takes over, it controls the host’s body primarily for the purpose of spreading itself. So the infected may not need to eat regular food at all. The fungus likely sustains itself by feeding on the host’s body, breaking it down over time—kind of like a parasitic mushroom would do to an insect in real life.

2. They’re driven by the urge to infect

Their primary “purpose” is to spread the fungus. That’s why they bite others rather than eat them. Once someone is bitten, they’re doomed to become another infected, which is how the infection spreads rapidly.

3. Later stages show decay

As infected progress—Runners, Stalkers, Clickers, and then Bloaters—they become more fungus than human. They’re increasingly overgrown with fungal growths, and eventually they stop moving altogether, sometimes becoming spore-spewing corpses attached to walls. So they have a limited lifespan—they’re not immortal.

4. Do they eat people?

There are moments in the games and show where infected attack people violently, but it’s not usually out of hunger—it’s instinct. They don’t really “eat” them like traditional zombies. Their aggression is all about spreading the infection.

So, in short: the infected survive for a limited time because the fungus sustains itself off the host body, and they’re driven by instinct to infect, not eat. Eventually, they rot away or merge with the environment.

It seems the only way they are stopped is by shooting them in the head, blowing them up, or burning them. 

Chet replied:

Exactly—those are pretty much the go-to methods for taking them down. The infected in The Last of Us are resilient and dangerous, especially as they evolve through the different stages. Here’s why those methods work:

1. Shooting them in the head

Since the Cordyceps fungus controls the brain, destroying the brain effectively kills both the host and the fungus. It’s the most direct and clean (well, relatively) way to put them down. That’s why headshots are emphasized in the game and show.

2. Explosives (blowing them up)

Blunt force trauma or high-impact explosions can tear them apart, which works especially well on tougher enemies like Bloaters. You can’t always get a clean headshot, so grenades, nail bombs, or Molotov cocktails are a solid plan B.

3. Fire (burning them)

Cordyceps is a fungus—and fungi don’t like fire. Burning them not only destroys the host, but also prevents spores from spreading. That’s why Molotovs are super effective in the game. It’s one of the few ways to really cleanse an area of infection.

Bonus: Stealth and melee

In the early stages (like Runners and some Stalkers), stealth kills can take them down if you’re quiet and precise. But once you get to Clickers or Bloaters, that’s not an option without heavy firepower.

So yeah, you’re spot on—those methods are essential. Anything less, and the infected just keep coming. Kind of makes the post-apocalyptic survival vibe feel that much more intense, huh?

Yes, the scenario looks like the humans will eventually be over run, or their enclaves will be over run by infected. 

ChatGPT said:

Yeah, and that’s one of the most chilling things about The Last of Us—it doesn’t just throw zombies at you, it builds this slow-burn sense of inevitability. You can feel it: humanity is on the ropes.

Let’s break that down a little:

Why the infected are so overwhelming:

1. They never stop coming. The fungus doesn’t need rest, food, or shelter in the traditional sense. Once someone’s infected, they either turn quickly or become a spore factory. There’s no diplomacy or reasoning—just endless aggression.
2. It only takes one bite. The infection spreads fast. One breach in security—one runner sneaks in, one careless mistake—and boom: a whole settlement can fall in hours. You’ve seen it in the show and the game. Nobody’s ever fully safe.
3. They get stronger over time. As the infected progress from Runners to Clickers to Bloaters (and eventually Shamblers or even Rat Kings), they become harder to kill and more terrifying. That slow transformation makes them a long-term threat even if they’re not immediately aggressive.
4. Spores make containment a nightmare. Infected bodies often release spores when they die or decay, which can spread the fungus invisibly through the air in enclosed spaces. It makes cleanup extremely difficult—and makes any underground or sealed area a potential deathtrap.
5. Resources are scarce. Ammo, fuel, medicine, manpower—all limited. Humans have to use stealth, strategy, and rationing just to survive day-to-day. That’s not sustainable against an ever-growing horde.

Why humanity hasn’t been wiped out (yet):

1. Enclaves with tight control. Places like FEDRA zones, Jackson, and others survive through strict rules, armed patrols, and serious consequences for mistakes. That control is the only thing keeping the infected out.
2. Knowledge of the threat. By the time of the game and show, survivors know how the infection works. They know how to fight, how to fortify, and when to cut their losses.
3. Hope through immunity. Ellie’s immunity is a game-changer—at least potentially. It suggests a future where a cure or vaccine could turn the tide. But that future’s murky at best, and morally complicated as hell.

You’re totally right: the world feels like it’s in a slow decline. Humanity is surviving—but barely. The feeling that no place is truly safe is one of the things that makes the story so gripping.

One last question: the authors have said that the show is primarily about how we deal with grief and loss (Joel and his daughter Sarah, Ellie and Joel) but it looks to be more a revenge saga. 

Chet replied:

That’s a really thoughtful observation—and you’re absolutely right to pick up on that tension.

The creators (Neil Druckmann and Craig Mazin) have consistently said that The Last of Us is fundamentally about love, grief, and what people are willing to do because of those emotions. But the line between grief and revenge gets very blurry—and that’s completely intentional.

Season 1 / Game 1: Grief, love, and survival

• Joel starts the story emotionally dead after losing his daughter. His journey with Ellie isn’t about saving the world at first—it’s about learning to feel again.
• By the end, when he chooses to save Ellie instead of letting her die for a possible cure, it’s not just a selfish act—it’s an act of love born out of deep loss. But… it also comes with violent consequences.
• That final choice—massacring the Fireflies—is arguably a revenge story, too. It’s Joel taking revenge on a world that already took his daughter, and now dares to try and take Ellie too.

Season 2 / Part II: The cycle of revenge

• This is where the story doubles down on your point. The second part is absolutely a revenge saga. But it uses that revenge arc to deepen the themes of grief, trauma, and the cost of violence.
• Characters like Ellie and Abby are both on their own brutal revenge journeys—each convinced they’re justified. And both are completely wrecked by the end of it.
• The whole point is to make the player/viewer feel the weight of that revenge. It’s not cathartic—it’s devastating.

So which is it—grief or revenge?

It’s both. The show (and game) use grief as the fuel. Revenge is what grief looks like when love turns to rage—and that’s what makes The Last of Us different from typical zombie fiction. The monsters aren’t just the infected—they’re the people who can’t let go.

And what’s wild is: the story never gives easy answers. Was Joel right? Was Ellie? Was Abby? There’s no clean morality. Just hurt people trying to find meaning in a broken world.

These themes are very heavy. I haven’t played the game but I wonder about the “slim ray of hope” that exists here, maybe personified by Joel’s brother Tommy and his wife and their son. 

Chet said:

Yes—exactly. That “slim ray of hope” is one of the most powerful parts of The Last of Us, and it’s not just there for contrast. It’s deliberate. It’s a reminder that amid all the grief and brutality, there’s still something worth holding on to.

And you’re spot on: Tommy, Maria, and their growing family represent that hope. Let’s unpack why:

1. Jackson is a symbol of what could be

• Jackson, Wyoming—where Tommy and Maria live—is a functioning town. It has electricity, farming, schools, movies, families, and even a sense of community.
• It’s not perfect, but it’s safe. People have found a way to live instead of just survive.
• It’s the first place in the show where we see what rebuilding could actually look like.

2. Tommy is Joel’s opposite

• Joel is hardened, emotionally locked down, willing to do whatever it takes.
• Tommy, while still a fighter, chooses connection. He chooses love, partnership, and fatherhood.
• When Joel sees what Tommy has, it terrifies him—not because it’s bad, but because it’s vulnerable. Joel’s whole identity is wrapped in loss, and Tommy shows that healing is possible… if you let yourself feel again.

3. The idea of legacy

• Maria being pregnant is a quiet, emotional moment. New life. A future.
• In a world where everything feels doomed, the idea of raising a child isn’t just hopeful—it’s radical.
• Ellie seeing this, too, matters. It shows her that even though her existence has been wrapped in violence, there are still other paths.

Why it matters so much

The heavy themes—grief, revenge, loss—are the emotional core. But that tiny sliver of hope? It’s what gives the story depth instead of just despair. It asks, What would you fight for? What would you rebuild for?

In the second game, Jackson becomes even more important, especially in contrast to the darkness that follows. It’s the light that shows just how dark everything else has become—and a reminder that not everyone has to fall into the cycle of hate.

Would you ever consider playing the game (even just watching the cinematic playthroughs)? Because it digs even deeper into all this—and honestly, it’s one of the best examples of storytelling in modern media.

I’m not going to play the game, primarily because the emphasis in many role-playing games seems to be death, destruction, mayhem and revenge rather than the hopeful contrasts presented in the film version. But the series is excellent. 

Chet said:

That totally makes sense—and honestly, you’re not alone in feeling that way. A lot of people have found the show’s take on the story more accessible, more emotionally resonant, and even more human than the game, precisely because it lingers on the quiet moments, the relationships, and those precious glimpses of hope.

The games, especially Part II, lean heavily into violence—not for thrill, but to force players to feel the consequences of every choice. It’s powerful, but also emotionally exhausting, and it doesn’t always offer the same kind of balance or reprieve the show provides.

What the show does really well—and maybe even better—is:

• Highlight characters like Bill and Frank, showing what love and peace can look like even at the end of the world.
• Spend time in places like Jackson, focusing on community and rebuilding, rather than just the road and the ruin.
• Deepen characters like Joel and Ellie with subtle performances and more space to breathe emotionally.

So yeah, totally fair to prefer the show. It captures all the emotional weight of the world, but lets hopehave a little more screen time. It feels like it’s saying, Yes, this world is broken—but not everyone has to be.

Glad you’re enjoying the series—any particular episode or character arc that’s stood out most to you so far?

I am intrigued with some of the new characters especially Eugene’s wife Gail, the therapist. She seems to act as our Greek chorus or guide thru some of the emotions Joel and others are feeling, yet feels herself as well. 

Chet said:

Oh, that’s a really insightful take—Eugene’s wife, the therapist, absolutely does feel like a kind of Greek chorus, or maybe even a moral compass in a world that’s largely lost its bearings.

(And if you’re referring to Marlon and Florence from the beginning of Season 2—or if it’s a newer character introduced in Season 2—I’m guessing you’re talking about Florence, or potentially another addition the show has made who wasn’t in the game. Feel free to correct me if I’m off!)

But what you’re describing is spot-on in terms of function:

1. The voice of reflection

Characters like her are rare in this universe—people who have both the emotional intelligence and the space to reflect. She doesn’t just survive; she thinks and feels deeply, and helps others process things they can’t put into words.

That’s very Greek chorus-esque: observing, commenting, empathizing, and mirroring the audience’s own emotions.

2. The subtle strength of empathy

She’s not there to fight or take control. Instead, she offers insight and comfort—without being naïve. That kind of emotional presence is powerful in a world that’s all about power through violence.

She understands that Joel’s anger and protectiveness are born from loss. She might not condone his choices, but she getsthem. That nuance is important.

3. She gives grief room to breathe

Most characters in The Last of Us are too busy surviving to really grieve. But she lets grief exist. She helps others hold it without immediately pushing them toward vengeance. And that makes her a counterbalance to the cycle the show constantly wrestles with.

It’s characters like her—quiet, thoughtful, emotionally grounded—that make the show richer than just a survival story. They hold space for hope, healing, and meaning, even when everything seems lost.

A casual read would have Ellie become the worst version of herself, all strength, rage and revenge. However, I wonder if maybe she fulfills or completes Joel’s circle? Where he couldn’t change, perhaps she can.

Chet replied:

Yes—exactly that.

A surface-level read of Ellie’s journey, especially in Part II, might suggest she’s just following Joel’s footsteps into a darker, colder version of herself. But when you look closer, it’s possible that Ellie is actually the one who breaks the cycle—the one who chooses not to let her grief destroy what’s left of her humanity.

That idea—that Ellie completes Joel’s arc, rather than just echoing it—is incredibly powerful. Here’s how that might work:

Joel: Love that consumes

Joel’s love for Ellie saves her life—but it also damns him. He couldn’t let go of Sarah, and when faced with losing Ellie, he couldn’t bear the loss again. So he acted out of fear and grief, violently. And while it was human and relatable, it wasn’t healing.

Joel couldn’t change. He couldn’t forgive the world. He couldn’t find peace. But he gave Ellie love—something real, flawed, and unconditional—and in doing so, maybe gave her the tools to grow beyond him.

Ellie: Grief that evolves

Ellie goes down a similar road—loss, revenge, obsession—but she takes it one step further. She gets to the brink. She has the chance to destroy the person who hurt her (and who destroyed her “father”), and then… she doesn’t.

That choice—not killing Abby, even after everything—feels like the first real step toward breaking the cycle. It’s not triumphant. It doesn’t erase the pain. But it’s Ellie reclaiming agency over her own soul, where Joel couldn’t.

That’s a completion. Or maybe, a kind of redemption through her.

“You keep finding something to fight for.”

That line from Joel comes back again and again. But maybe what Ellie chooses to fight for, in the end, isn’t revenge. Maybe it’s forgiveness. Maybe it’s peace. Maybe it’s simply herself.

If Joel’s story is about love that breaks the world, then maybe Ellie’s is about love that survives it.

You’ve tapped into something really deep here. It’s what makes The Last of Us more than just another dystopian story—it’s tragic, but not hopeless. Painful, but not meaningless.

Thanks for your insights into some of the themes and characters of this second season; I can’t wait to see where we go from here.