The Last of Us Part II Remastered: Revenge Has Never Looked This Good (Or Hurt This Much)

April 6, 2025

Some games are made to be played. The Last of Us Part II is made to be endured—and I mean that in the most affectionate way possible. This game sucker punches you in the soul, then makes you thank it for the privilege. With The Last of Us Part II Remastered, Naughty Dog has brought that heartbreak to the PS5 with a cleaner coat of paint, a few new toys, and much more polish. But don't worry—it still hurts in all the same places. It just looks better while it's doing it.

This isn't just a resolution bump and some upscaled foliage. The remaster is thoughtful. It understands the original's tone and leans into it without letting the technical upgrades drown out the emotional messiness that made the game unforgettable. It's still a story about vengeance, grief, and the high cost of holding onto pain—but now it's in 4K, and your frame rate won't drop when your feelings do.

Anger, Up Close and Personal

Ellie's fury was always the centerpiece. In the remaster, that fury gets a high-definition close-up. Facial animations feel more precise, more human, and more uncomfortable. You notice the moment her smile falters, the second her jaw clenches before a conversation takes a turn. You see the sadness under the anger, which makes it sting more.

Characters don't just talk anymore—they perform, with every glance and half-finished sentence carrying weight. It's a small thing, technically, but emotionally? It makes a big difference. You don't just watch Ellie fall apart. You feel her unraveling—bit by bit, cut by cut.

Violence: Now With Even More Guilt

Let's be honest: this game has always been violent. But the remastered version brings clarity that makes the violence feel even more intimate and, frankly, more awkward. Not awkward in the clunky gameplay way—awkward in the "oh no, I did that to a guy who just said he had a dog" way.

Enemies react more believably now, begging, panicking, and calling each other by name. It's immersive and mildly traumatic, basically The Last of Us in a nutshell. You don't get to feel like the hero here. The game makes sure of that. It's revenge dressed up as justice, but even the PS5 can't disguise the bitterness underneath.

Seattle Gets a Voice

Post-apocalyptic Seattle has always been moody, but now it's practically brooding. The environmental detail is sharper, shadows more oppressive, and fog thicker than your uncle's aftershave. Every alley feels like it might be your last. But what's really striking is how much presence the city has. It breathes, creaks, and groans like it remembers everything that happened within it.

This isn't just a backdrop—it's a character, and the remaster finally lets it speak up.

'Lost Levels' Add Flavor (and a Bit of Closure)

The new 'Lost Levels' are like deleted scenes from your favorite film—brief, unfinished, and fascinating. These aren't half-baked ideas tossed in as filler. They're glimpses into the developers' thought process, making the game's structure feel more deliberate.

Something charming about walking through these what-ifs while listening to developer commentary, like flipping through a director's annotated script, is that it's a peek behind the curtain, adding a layer of appreciation that is not in the original release. These sequences won't blow your mind, but they'll make you smile, nod, and say, "Oh, that's why that scene felt different."

No Return Mode: Come for the Challenge, Stay for the Stress

No Return is the new roguelike mode, and it's equal parts thrilling and brutal. You jump into randomized combat encounters with different characters, each bringing their own combat quirks to the party. The stakes are high, the gear is scarce, and the panic is real.

It's not just a throwaway mode—it's genuinely fun. And more importantly, it's a fresh way to engage in combat that, in the main game, often felt like a detour from the plot. Here, it's the whole show, and it works. Even when you're getting your face kicked in by a bloater in a foggy basement, you'll be grinning (or at least grimacing appreciatively).

Guitar Mode Is Still the Nicest Surprise

Let's take a second to appreciate the most wholesome feature in a game otherwise obsessed with emotional devastation: Guitar Free Play. Yes, in between murdering your way through a morally ambiguous revenge saga, you can sit in an abandoned theater and strum Pearl Jam covers.

The remaster opens this up with new instruments and settings. You can pick up a banjo and let your inner folk singer out or quietly noodle on a guitar while the world burns outside. It's oddly therapeutic—like tuning a string quartet during the apocalypse. And it's one of the few spaces in the game where the character and the player get to breathe.

Replaying With Hindsight Is a Different Kind of Pain

The first time through Part II, everything hits like a surprise haymaker. Now, you know what's coming—and that makes it worse. Watching Joel and Ellie joke in Jackson feels different when you know what's waiting for them. Playing as Abby feels less like a betrayal and more like a slow, deliberate reframing.

The remaster doesn't change the story but changes how you carry it. There's a weight to revisiting it, and it's heavier now that the dust has settled. Whether that's rewarding or just masochistic depends on the kind of player you are. (You know who you are.)

A More Honest Legacy

Something is refreshing about how Naughty Dog has treated this remaster—not as a marketing beat, but as a reflection. The added content, developer commentary, and the risk of revisiting something so polarizing suggest a studio comfortable with letting the work speak for itself. They're not trying to smooth out the rough parts. They're saying, "Yeah, this is what we made. Let's talk about it."

It's not common for a remaster to feel like an act of transparency, but this one does. They're sitting beside you as you play, not above you.

Verdict: Still Brutal, Still Brilliant

Look, this isn't a soft reboot. The Last of Us Part II Remastered won't suddenly win over people who bounced off the original. It's not trying to. Instead, it preserves and enhances one of the boldest stories in modern gaming with enough care to make it worth revisiting—whether for the gameplay, the graphics, the guitar sessions or to feel bad in 4K.

It's more than a remaster. It's a reminder. A reminder that games can be messy, confrontational, and flawed—and still be masterpieces. You may not always enjoy it. But you won't forget it.