The Last of Us Part II vs The HBO Series: A Deep Dive From a Veteran Player

The Last of Us Part II is not a game you simply play. It is a game you survive, you endure, and eventually come to reflect on long after the credits roll. As a veteran player who has spent dozens of hours in Ellie and Abby’s shoes, I approached the HBO series with cautious optimism and a critical eye. While the first season, which adapted the original game, was an emotional gut punch that largely succeeded in bringing the post-pandemic world to life, adapting Part II presents a much taller order. The sequel is more ambitious, more divisive, and ultimately more complex. The game’s nonlinear storytelling, dual protagonist structure, and unflinching exploration of grief and vengeance set a nearly impossible bar. Watching the adaptation unfold is like seeing a reflection that gets some of the features right but lacks the full depth and texture of the original.

One of the most obvious differences is the way the story is told. In the game, you live through Ellie’s journey in real time. You scavenge through the ruins of Seattle, feel the tension of every silent corner, and pull the trigger during every moral dilemma. The game forces you to inhabit Ellie’s escalating obsession with revenge. You are not just watching her descent, you are complicit in it. By the time the game forces you to switch perspectives and play as Abby—the very person responsible for Joel’s death—you are already emotionally compromised. You hate her. Then, gradually, you begin to understand her. You fight the same enemies you once allied with. You come to see the other side. That duality is not just a narrative device. It is the core of the experience. Whether or not the HBO series can replicate that shift in empathy is uncertain.

Television cannot offer the same form of immersion. In the show, we are observers, not participants. No matter how brilliantly the actors perform, the viewer is never forced to press square to strangle someone or dodge in the middle of a fight. We are not exhausted from a 30-minute stealth sequence. We are not scavenging for alcohol and rags to make one last medkit. We are not crawling toward survival. That gameplay loop is what binds you to the characters. The show might show us the outcome, but it cannot replicate the emotional exhaustion that comes with earning it.

Character portrayal is another area where differences emerge. Ashley Johnson’s Ellie and Troy Baker’s Joel created something iconic in the gaming world. Their performances in Part II are arguably even stronger than in the first game. Bella Ramsey has proven capable of carrying the emotional weight, but there is a history in the game that simply cannot be replaced. The bond between Joel and Ellie in the game is felt through long silences, optional conversations, and shared trauma that you walk through together. In the series, these moments are often condensed. Some are omitted entirely. And when it comes to Abby, the stakes become even higher. Gamers remember the sheer vitriol that surrounded Abby’s introduction. The game forces you to fight as her, to train as her, to care for a child as her. It is only after hours of gameplay that you begin to question everything you once believed about right and wrong. The show will not have hours. It will have maybe two or three episodes. The challenge of making Abby sympathetic in such a limited window is massive. And it is pivotal to the entire arc.

There is also the matter of pacing. The Last of Us Part II is not afraid to slow things down. Flashbacks build character depth. Environmental storytelling fills in the blanks. Small, quiet moments—like playing guitar in an abandoned theater or going on a museum trip with Joel—are what make the emotional punches land. The HBO format does not always allow for this kind of patience. Viewers expect narrative movement. They expect cliffhangers. The showrunners will need to fight the urge to trim fat, because what feels like fat in a script often turns out to be emotional muscle in a game.

Themes also shift when removed from gameplay. In the game, revenge is not just a plot device. It is a mechanic. You see it eat away at Ellie in every decision you make. You feel the regret after every killing. The moment you realize that Ellie has become the monster she feared is not something you are told. It is something you feel. The show can try to mirror this, but it cannot weaponize the player’s guilt in the same way. There is no cutscene that hits harder than realizing you are the reason she lost everything.

Visually, the show nails the tone. The bleakness of the world, the quiet tension of an abandoned city, the harsh beauty of the natural environment reclaiming civilization—these are all captured with care. But the show sometimes strays from the visual storytelling that made the game so strong. In the game, every crack in a wall, every scribbled note, every photo left behind tells a story. You linger in spaces. You search every drawer not just for supplies, but for meaning. In the show, those details are sometimes background dressing. Beautiful to look at, but easy to miss.

There are moments when the HBO version shines. The performances are stellar. The expanded look into some characters, like Bill and Frank, adds new dimension. But it is also in these additions that the differences become even more apparent. The game is brutal because it has to be. Every choice feels like a betrayal of someone or something. There are no clean victories. In contrast, television sometimes seeks resolution. It wants the viewer to walk away with closure. The game does not offer that. It leaves you hollow, uncertain, and deeply moved. And that is its genius.

In the end, the HBO series is a powerful adaptation, but it is exactly that—an adaptation. It mirrors the source material, honors it, even elevates it in certain areas. But for those of us who lived every step of Ellie’s journey, who dropped the controller in disbelief during that final confrontation, who sat in silence watching the end credits roll, there will always be a layer missing. That layer is the one between our hands and the controller. It is the one that made us not just observers of a story, but participants in it.

The Last of Us Part II is a masterpiece not because of its story alone, but because of how that story is told through interaction, through discomfort, and through choice. The HBO show can echo those themes, but it cannot replicate that experience. And maybe that is the biggest difference of all.