The Last of Us Just Lost Its Co-Creator and I'm Losing My Patience

Season 1 of The Last of Us wasn't just good. It was the blueprint. A near-perfect adaptation that somehow managed to honor the source material while elevating it in ways we didn't even know we needed. Joel and Ellie weren't just 3D rendered characters anymore - they were real. I was all in.

Then came season 2. And oof.

Look, I tried. I wanted to love it. But everything just felt off. They changed too much - especially Ellie. In the game, she's a single-minded force of nature. Angry, haunted, laser-focused on revenge. In the show? She somehow turned into this goofy, impulsive character who fumbles through scenes like she wandered in from a completely different genre. It's like they took her edge and sanded it down into soft foam. Suddenly she needs babysitting from every side character just to get through the day, while the badass energy she should have is being passed around to her more capable friends. I kept watching, hoping things would click. "Maybe season 3 will bring it home," I told myself.

But now… Neil Druckmann's out.

The guy who made The Last of Us - who literally created this world and gave it its emotional core - is stepping away from creative duties on the show. He'll still be listed as a producer, but let's be honest, that's the TV version of sending thoughts and prayers.

Craig Mazin is going it alone from here, and while I respect his work, this feels like losing your compass right before the final leg of the journey.

And honestly? This doesn't feel like a planned, amicable transition. It feels like Neil finally couldn't take it anymore. Like he looked around the writer's room, saw the notes coming in from ten different HBO executives who've never held a DualShock in their life, and said, "Yeah… I'm out." I don't blame him. At a certain point, you can only watch so much of your work get diluted by committee before you tap out.

TV does what TV always does. It takes something special—something raw and personal—and slowly bleaches it into market-tested, risk-averse sludge. Every executive needs to leave their fingerprints. Every character arc needs to be focus-group approved. And before you know it, your single-minded revenge tale turns into a messy ensemble where no one's allowed to be too dark or too complicated. I get why Neil walked. I just wish he didn't have to.

Because now? Whatever season 3 ends up being, it won't have the guy who created the story in the first place. And that's not just disappointing—it feels like the last nail in the coffin for a show that once had so much promise.