I was once a happy individual. I may not have been a millionaire or a member of the royal family, but I was doing alright. I had good food to eat, friends and family to spend time with, and good health. I loved video games, nature, movies, and literature. I was a very religious man, and I enjoyed observing and marveling over the beauty of God's creation.
A friend of mine suggested that I should play The Last Of Us. I had previously enjoyed Uncharted well enough, so I thought I'd give Naughty Dog's latest a chance. Little did I know the torrent of despair The Last of Us would unleash upon my life.
After completing The Last of Us, I decided to play Bioshock Infinite. I had loved the original Bioshock and I was eager to see how Infinite would look and play on my top of the line PC rig. I was surprised to see that even running on a $5,000 PC Bioshock Infinite couldn't compete with the divine beauty of The Last Of Us. The floating city of Columbia seemed dull and mundane compared to the amazing ingenuity of The Last Of Us. Moreover, the story lacked in any meaningful depth or emotional resonance. The relationship between Booker and Elizabeth was meaningless drivel compared to the exquisite narrative of Joel and Ellie.
I sadly realized that nothing could ever again compare to the beauty of The Last Of Us. Perhaps, I simply needed a game that focused more on gameplay than visuals. I popped in an old favorite, Bayonetta, and eagerly gripped my controller. To my great dismay, a game that I had once considered phenomenal in the gameplay department seemed a dull bore. The blistering action combat and tense action sequences had nothing on The Last Of Us's revolutionary third person shooting mechanics. Bayonetta seemed sluggish, clumsy, and impotent. In dismay, I lunged for my 3DS to play my favorite game ever, Mega Man 2. Sadly, I found that even the Blue Bomber's exploits held no joy for me anymore.
In horror I realized that video games no longer would satiate me. I threw out my NES, my SNES, my Game Boy, my GBA, my DS, my Dreamcast, my PSX, my PS2, my 3DS, my XBox 360, my Gamecube, and my Wii. I kept my PS3, but I shattered every game that was not The Last of Us.
However, things didn't end there. I stepped outside and realized that the majesty God had created could not compete with what Naughty Dog had achieved. The forest seemed dull and lifeless. The flowers were drab and hideous. Animals were stiff and poorly animated. How could I worship a God who could not create something as beautiful as that which was created by mere mortals (if you could consider the Kings of Naughty Dog mere mortals). I lost my religion.
I was losing my grip on sanity, and I hoped that a book would ease my suffering. Sadly, I had no luck. I tried reading my favorite novel, House Of Leaves, but I found the narrative trite, simplistic, and uninteresting compared to the masterfully crafted story of The Last Of Us.
In the following days I drifted through life in a haze. Nothing besides The Last Of Us could bring me even the slightest tinge of joy. The stars were dead and cold. People were nothing but hollow mockeries of the animated magnificence Naughty Dog created. Even the mellifluous wonder of a woman's voice could no longer move my heart.
And that brings me to the purpose of this post. Every moment spent not playing The Last Of Us brings me physical pain. Every moment that my eyes drift away from the screen serves as a harsh reminder that my world will never equal that of The Last Of Us. I only have one option left...
I will spend the remainder of my days playing The Last Of Us. I will play the game through over and over again until my body eventually withers away from lack of hydration. I wanted to thank those here for the time we have spent interacting.
I also want to issue a warning. Only play The Last Of Us if you are prepared for its incredible radiance. Otherwise, you may end up like me...
