I have not played The Last of Us. I’ve had plenty of opportunity to do so, and as the horror aficionado that I claim to be, it feels blasphemous that I haven’t yet checked out the games. However, I have commitment issues and a poor attention span, and despite my flatmate's endless attempts at convincing me to sit down and play it, I’ve instead continually shied away from the game.
HBO’s The Last of Us has since rolled around, and like most others who also haven’t played the game, I was immediately eager to see what it was about the story that has so many fans raving about it to no end. Needless to say, I finished off the first episode of HBO’s The Last of Us feeling equal parts weepy and thrilled – but, most importantly, desperate for more.
What exactly am I desperate for more of, though? The show itself, for sure. However, to say that would do a severe injustice as to what made the first episode so enjoyable for me, and that’s Bella Ramsay. Frankly, all that’s echoing in my mind right now is: “Are you my fucking mom or something?”
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