With a catastrophic fungal pandemic creating the “infected”, a post-apocalypse breakdown of society, and a moral quest amidst humans hunting humans, PlayStation game and HBO TV phenomenon The Last of Us has exhilarated and terrified millions of gamers and viewers.
Throughout the series, “Look for the light” is a slogan graffitied on walls, often alongside a firefly image. As a theologian, I interpret this “light” as life, justice and the belief in God. Does this mean I perceive God to be present even in the apocalyptic misery of The Last of Us, in which humans have morphed into grotesque, hellish creatures with names like “clickers” and “bloaters”?
In the recently published book The Last of Us and Theology: Violence, Ethics, Redemption?, 14 contributors and I sought to examine ethical and theological issues in the game and TV show. Questions included: Is God present in these worlds? What happens when the love for an individual is chosen over the welfare of greater society? Are human beings intrinsically good or prone to vengeance? What does fatherhood or motherhood mean in an apocalypse?
The narrative premise of The Last of Us involves a journey of hope and redemption for its two main protagonists, a smuggler called Joel and a 14-year-old orphan called Ellie who has somehow survived a bite from an “infected” but is alone. Joel has lost his own daughter, who was shot at the outbreak of the pandemic a decade before. His loss has left him broken and divorced from his past.
Now he finds himself transporting Ellie out of a quarantine zone in a job for the Fireflies – a revolutionary militia group supposedly working for a cure and a better life for those enduring totalitarian rule. Firefly images on city walls inspire the despairing to look for the light and join their cause.
Joel cares little about the Fireflies and avoids any attachment to Ellie, just seeing her as cargo to take to a Firefly hospital. Ellie, meanwhile, hopes she may be a cure for the fungal epidemic to give her life some meaning, while seeking the father she never had.
All great works of art reflect the human search for deeper meaning, and usually centre on issues of love, purpose, family, nation or God – even if rendered impossible in the face of cruelty and indifference. This can be filtered through countless ways: the horrors of war, a failed romance, disillusionment.
Indeed, the game and show depict a mostly godless, bleak world. Trust and community are broken, violence dominates, with survivors engulfed by fear and distrust. Everything seems corrupted, especially love, which is weaponised to justify immoral acts for survival.
Yet despite the misery and violence, dumb jokes, childish joy, and partnering for survival create a bond between the childless Joel and the fatherless Ellie, and both find themselves willing to do anything to keep the other alive.
There are reasons why the apocalyptic mirrors our reality, when world events appear grim, and loss and suffering can be overwhelming. It is easy to believe there is no light, nor any prospect of it.
The Fireflies say “Look for the light”, but in The Last of Us, the apparent light may actually be darkness, as those claiming to be good turn out to be threats, while love becomes stained with revenge and lies. Too often, characters kill for those they love. They kill in their search for the light, or to repel some greater darkness.
Even the Fireflies, who promise to be that light, are far from saviours. Can there be hope in this fractured post-apocalypse world where everyone seems tainted by despair or moral compromise?
Stubbornly (or miraculously), humans can often envision something greater than “just” survival, testifying to a love that persists despite lies, betrayals and misguided choices. In the first game, those playing as Joel learn about another survivor named Ish who tried to rebuild a community with survivors and their children by living underground, seemingly protected.
Unfortunately, we never learn Ish’s fate after his community is overrun and its children slaughtered. The light has been snuffed out. In the second game, characters including Lev and Dina have a religious and spiritual identity that points them beyond hatred and revenge. But neither character is given any clear resolution.
Without a third game depicting redemption, how can a theologian like myself still believe some remnant of God smoulders somewhere among these damaged beings and the remorseless chaos? According to some characters in The Last of US, it is humanity itself that destroys any light and goodness through fear, greed, suspicion and distrust.
While I am a Catholic theologian and doubt proliferates about whether a God of universal love is deeply present in our world, I remain steadfast about humanity’s goodness, the sacredness of creation, and the grace and light that exist – no matter how faint – within us all.
For me, The Last of Us is about the challenge of persevering in seeing the light within ourselves and in those around us. Or better, to become a light for others and help them to become that light, too.
I believe the presence of God may be glimpsed and embodied even in a seemingly hopeless and godless world. This is not, as in the game, through firebombing bloaters or knifing clickers, but through ordinary acts of courageous kindness, humility and love.
It is confronting the darkness and knowing that if hope and love remain, this will be neither the last of us, nor the last of any meaningful search for God.
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Peter Admirand does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
