![Hands on with The Last of Us: Whatever it Takes](https://blog.playstation.com/tachyon/2013/05/tlous.jpg?X-Amz-Content-Sha256=UNSIGNED-PAYLOAD&X-Amz-Security-Token=IQoJb3JpZ2luX2VjEAwaCXVzLWVhc3QtMSJIMEYCIQCDD%2BRUT9vIm%2FiNrO0WMUYA2DtoA43etXWnV4emRq2bEgIhAOfOA9eXbQXk6XiLFRW9M5dNRIRPXgqS6gRqiFUVOAZaKoYECOX%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2F%2FwEQABoMNTc3NDE4ODE4NDEzIgzslaTo%2Fez76ltgOCEq2gPHYYP09qUgSsioKB7Foz2904h2ZsQHvKD0iUGT1V507WXDcCLS3f4a8Chh76GLcZKVBp2J%2BWK0szCM3CC%2B2TNpy2pAH0FmD%2F5SpaNW8B7T38jMlCfKHQTtaQrbtgkOWElHz3BOJJDtT0nkNxzjODlyPpW9CHfUiwnji8RpVVdkQlNx02tU6LInXjetab9Cu0B51fIacEQzlbcCgMFOFd7%2FNxhKEJuJGlOQWiZNL9U9k8EdKzEQxmW1CMfaYzmLFpy3M%2Flsr1qUbGaCShsvq%2Bq9S2zax%2FrjPw5GKy8AHoRUMCwZTj4mbQE%2BnrZJ2TQhZwwbYnTWfg%2Fl5cIjpgUjFZ9KJK6YtZMHIGZf1gzm5hqBmMxrQqLrRzoaoq3TJf40wpSTLkmBwkF3TvxlIXNP3ot868NSDgKqO7C0sZGQUgk8o%2B9%2BrL5disJ0DzN37l7WRBRWzp2BvgfuXKGfy0q%2F%2FHUorUEGvAsmXWf52gZdZzl9LpE3EihjSvWBuMXjhxGZnRTTHCU09JS%2FiRvDc%2FgorbjYQcfV9XMRqTl5xmfje%2FrnR3FB2qic589cgq1Zqb9KmcqKTpBzz4d1BQ2mHLLcBWsWZJ2hVPJGz9Z6Q89s2yR6NFmvlDruF3laGa4w%2FNORtQY6pAE%2Fh1IBuq2GJZ8zJMFsIKDwLngDCxhO42g1DoXRglwWco7JERV5UkuwiFIiFOIyBggjsjExfF8N3mMRLYjwSaQPaPR8hzkFo0P2DOdL67Z3nOwfrFQ4t%2FkyQNRVUPe0kOVgHbJ9xqSEQ%2FhOGT5xNL91Bwu1rRmTUdPUIbVxKns4Zxd8%2B2OtYpVG97YdPcRmDjcK7cIwgQNYIaaCK%2FGLrxtmGa6Bog%3D%3D&X-Amz-Algorithm=AWS4-HMAC-SHA256&X-Amz-Credential=ASIAYM4GX6NW57ANJRGJ%2F20240727%2Fus-east-1%2Fs3%2Faws4_request&X-Amz-Date=20240727T033411Z&X-Amz-SignedHeaders=host&X-Amz-Expires=900&X-Amz-Signature=4924f100fada97913802d66dc541bf9f2b8bbcf1e335817ed02307d45a618236)
I’m low on ammo, so I clumsily swing my two-by-four at the incoming Clicker — dumb move. The creature sinks its fetid teeth into my jugular, chirping with malevolent glee as it rips out a gobbet of flesh. Arterial blood spurts across my face, now contorted in shock and agony.
I’m dead. This time, I try a different approach. I combine one of my remaining rags and a precious bottle of alcohol to create a Molotov cocktail, then hurl it towards the abomination. Flames envelop the lumbering shape as it wails and collapses, dead at last. I’m alive – for a little while longer.
The Last of Us isn’t afraid to kill you, over and over if need be. And that’s a big part of its considerable charm. As you struggle to survive the game’s inhospitable world, limping from one nail-biting combat scenario to the next, you’ll feel strangely alive and alert. In an era of game development that — at least to this old-timer — tends to babysit players with tutorials and handholding to dial down any chance of frustration, this game’s unapologetically tough-as-nails approach feels both refreshing and quietly revolutionary. Remember when games used to kill you? Naughty Dog does.
Later, I’m ambushed in a bombed-out store by a mob of coldhearted killers — human in name only, and no less dangerous than the infected that prowl the streets. I assess my arsenal: just three shotgun shells and a handful of 9mm rounds. Using the dim lighting to my advantage, I duck behind a counter and drop a nearby gunman with a blast of buckshot as Ellie runs for safety. With the shooter out of the way, I lunge for a pair of nearby attackers and subdue them with a series of wild haymakers. Grabbing a nearby two-by-four, I rush the survivors and bludgeon them into submission. I rendezvous with a nervous Ellie and we move on — though to what, only Naughty Dog knows.
That’s The Last of Us. You do what you need to do and you keep moving. It’s out June 14th, and I think you’re gonna like it.
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