The Last of Us Part II is proof that Naughty Dog knows exactly how to push buttons—both in game-play and in the fragile egos of low emotional intelligence (mostly) white cisgender male gamer's who think every story should cater to their personal comfort zones.

Let's get the most important thing out of the way first. Yes, the game-play is improved upon from 1. It's tighter, more fluid, and packed with new mechanics that make combat and exploration feel like a more gritty survival experience. The stealth has been refined, the AI is smarter. So, objectively, strictly game-play wise, It’s a better game than TLOU1.

TLOU2 dares to explore uncomfortable gray areas, with morally nuanced characters. It challenges players to question their own loyalties. But unfortunately, nuance is kryptonite to a significant chunk of the gaming audience—particularly the straight, cisgender, low EQ bros who make up a staggering portion of the player base. These guys don’t want emotional complexity. They want Joel. They want revenge. They want the narrative equivalent of a fist bump.

So when Naughty Dog kills off Joel early on—at the hands of a hot buff trans character—you could practically hear the keyboards shatter in rage across the globe. And then, as if that weren’t enough, they made you play as her. For hours. Including a full-on trans sex scene that clearly wasn’t made for titillation, but still sent shockwaves through the YouTube grifter circuit like a Red Bull enema.

And here’s the thing: it’s all deliberate. Naughty Dog rage-baited, and the player base responded like clockwork. They knew exactly how to stir controversy: challenge the player’s sense of narrative justice, add in a trans character doing the “unforgivable,” and then humanize her. That’s not just storytelling—it’s psychological warfare. And the reaction? Predictable, loud, and embarrassingly revealing.

Meanwhile, players willing to engage with the story on its terms—not through the lens of nostalgia or performative outrage—got a brutal, beautiful, and hauntingly mature experience. One that explores grief, identity, cycles of violence, and the futility of revenge with far more depth than the first game ever attempted.

So yes—TLOU2 Remastered is a fantastic game in nearly every way. But it also acts as a mirror. And for a lot of gamers, what they saw staring back at them wasn’t a story they hated. It was a version of themselves they didn’t want to acknowledge.

Everyone knows the story of Cyberpunk 2077 by now. It launched in a disastrous state, became one of the biggest disappointments in gaming, and spent the following years slowly rebuilding its reputation through major updates, patches, and the excellent Phantom Liberty expansion.

Today, the game is almost unrecognizable compared to what released in 2020. Night City feels richer, the gameplay is smoother, the progression systems are far more rewarding, and the overall experience finally delivers on much of the potential people originally saw in it.

It still is not perfect. The policing system, for example, continues to feel half-baked and noticeably less developed than other parts of the world. There are also occasional moments where the illusion of Night City being a fully living, reactive place begins to fall apart.

However, those flaws do little to take away from what is ultimately an incredible game. The world, characters, writing, atmosphere, soundtrack, and sheer ambition of Cyberpunk 2077 make it one of the most memorable gaming experiences of the modern era.

Its redemption does not erase the terrible launch, nor should it, but the game that exists today deserves to be judged on what it has become. In its current form, I genuinely believe Cyberpunk 2077 belongs on the Mount Rushmore of modern gaming alongside titles such as The Last of Us and Red Dead Redemption 2.