I fired up the Left Behind DLC sometime in early 2014, probably six months after I’d finished the main game. My daughter had been bugging me to try it – she’d already played through it twice and kept saying it was essential to understanding Ellie’s character. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go back into that world, honestly. The Last of Us had gutted me emotionally in ways I wasn’t used to dealing with from video games. But she was right, of course. She usually is when it comes to games.
Set it up on a Saturday morning after I’d finished most of my weekend chores – gutters cleaned, truck serviced, grocery run done. Made myself a sandwich and settled in for what I figured would be maybe two hours of content. Ended up playing for four hours straight. The way that DLC bounced between timelines – Ellie trying to patch up Joel in the present, then flashing back to her last day with Riley – it was like nothing I’d experienced before in gaming. The structure itself told part of the story.
So when HBO announced they were turning Left Behind into a full episode of their show, I had mixed feelings. The dual timeline thing was what made the DLC work for me. Without that back-and-forth, would it still hit the same way?
Watched episode 7 last month. Had to watch it twice, actually, because the first time through I was too busy comparing it to the game to really absorb what the show was doing differently. Second viewing, I let it stand on its own. And damn if it didn’t work just as well, maybe better in some ways.
The biggest change – focusing entirely on Ellie and Riley’s backstory without cutting to the present day Joel stuff – initially felt wrong to me. In the game, that constant switching created this emotional tension. You’re desperately trying to save Joel while learning about how Ellie lost Riley. The parallels were obvious but effective. The show tosses that structure completely and just gives you ninety minutes of pure backstory.
Thing is, it works. Without the timeline jumping, you get completely absorbed in their relationship. No interruptions, no pulling you out of their world to remind you about Joel bleeding out somewhere. Just these two girls having what might be their last day together, except you don’t know it’s their last day until it becomes their last day. Different kind of storytelling, but equally effective.
The mall itself looks incredible in the show. In the game, you’re walking through this abandoned shopping center that feels frozen in time. Plants dead in their planters, stores with gates pulled down, that eerie quiet you get in large empty spaces. HBO’s version captures that same feeling but adds layers the game couldn’t show. The dust patterns on surfaces, the way twenty years of weather has affected different materials, merchandise still sitting on shelves because nobody bothered to loot a Spencer’s gifts store during the apocalypse.
What strikes me about both versions is how they use the mall as this symbol of lost normalcy. These girls are trying to reclaim pieces of childhood in a space that was designed for exactly that – teenage fun, hanging out with friends, wasting time and money on stupid stuff. The apocalypse took that away from them, but for one day they’re going to take it back.
The carousel scene hits different in each version. In the game, you’re controlling Ellie as she gets on this rickety old merry-go-round, and there’s something about actively making that choice – to do something silly and childlike – that makes it more personal. You’re not just watching her be a kid, you’re helping her be a kid. The show can’t give you that agency, but it gives you these incredible performances instead. Watching Bella Ramsey and Storm Reid on that carousel, just being teenagers for a few minutes, it’s heartbreaking because you know how rare these moments are for them.
The Halloween store sequence shows the difference between interactive and passive media pretty clearly. In the game, you can try on different masks, mess around with the decorations, really explore the space at your own pace. There’s this playfulness to it that comes from being able to interact with everything. The show streamlines this into a more focused scene about the wolf masks, which connects thematically to Joel’s protector role later. It’s more economical storytelling, but you lose some of that sense of discovery and play.
Both versions nail the relationship between Ellie and Riley, just in different ways. The game builds their connection through shared activities – you’re playing arcade games together, exploring together, making choices about what to do next together. The show has to rely more heavily on dialogue and performance, but the casting is so good that it works just as well. These feel like real friends with real history, real inside jokes, real affection for each other.
The photo booth scene is where I really noticed the medium difference. In the game, you’re actively participating in taking those photos – choosing expressions, timing the shots, creating this memory alongside them. It feels collaborative, like you’re part of their friendship for that moment. The show turns it into something you watch instead of something you do, but the performances are so genuine that you still feel the joy of that moment. Different experience, same emotional payoff.
That water gun fight though – the game version is so much better it’s not even close. Actually hunting Riley through the mall, strategizing your approach, getting surprised by her attacks – it’s genuinely fun gameplay that also serves the story. The show gives you maybe thirty seconds of montage, which captures the spirit but can’t possibly recreate the experience of actually playing that game with her. This is one area where interactivity just can’t be replaced.
The kiss scene works beautifully in both versions but feels different each time. The game builds to it through hours of player investment – you’ve been controlling Ellie, making choices for her, bonding with both characters through gameplay. When that moment happens, it feels earned because you’ve been on this journey with them step by step. The show telegraphs the romantic tension more obviously earlier on, making the kiss feel more inevitable than surprising. Both approaches work, but they create different readings of the relationship.
When the infected show up and everything goes sideways, that’s where the structural differences really matter. The game has you actively fighting for survival, switching between past and present, using gameplay to make you feel Ellie’s desperation and fear. The show focuses entirely on the aftermath – the realization of what being bitten means, the devastating choice they have to make. Without the present-day timeline for contrast, it’s pure tragedy with no relief valve.
What gets me about both versions is how they handle choice in a world where nobody really gets to choose anything. Riley choosing to join the Fireflies, Ellie choosing to spend one last day with her friend, both of them choosing to “lose their minds together” instead of facing reality – these tiny moments of agency in a world that usually doesn’t give you any. The game lets you participate in some of those choices, the show makes you witness them, but both capture how precious and painful real choice can be.
I’ve played through the DLC three times now and watched the episode twice. Each time I catch new details, small moments I missed before. There’s a scene in the game where you can just sit with Riley and listen to music, and you control when to move on. I remember hesitating there, knowing that progressing the story meant getting closer to the inevitable tragedy. The show can’t give you that kind of complicity, but it creates its own version through pacing, through lingering on moments of happiness we know can’t last.
Here’s what both versions understand perfectly – Left Behind isn’t just backstory. It’s the key to understanding everything Ellie does later. Her relationship with Riley shapes how she bonds with Joel, how she handles loss, how she makes decisions about who to trust and who to protect. Losing Riley is the wound that never heals, the ghost that follows her through every other relationship she tries to build.
The adaptation from game to TV isn’t perfect. Some sequences lost impact in translation, some of the interactive magic got condensed into regular dramatic scenes. But the core emotional truth survived intact – this story about two girls finding love at the worst possible time, in the worst possible world, only to have it snatched away by random chance and circumstance.
And honestly, that’s what matters with any adaptation. Not whether every detail matches up perfectly, but whether the heart of the story survives the transition. Whether you experience it through a controller or through a screen, Left Behind remains one of the most emotionally devastating pieces of storytelling in any medium. The game’s version has the advantage of interactivity, the show’s version has incredible performances and cinematic storytelling. Both will break your heart in slightly different ways.
My daughter was right, as usual. Left Behind is essential viewing whether you’re playing it or watching it. Just make sure you’ve got tissues handy either way.
Timothy discovered retro gaming at forty and never looked back. A construction foreman by day and collector by night, he writes from a fresh, nostalgia-free angle—exploring classic games with adult curiosity, honest takes, and zero childhood bias.
