The Last of Us Makes Me Long for More Relationships Like Ellie and Dina

When I think of lesbian representation in video games, my mind goes to the likes of Life is Strange, Dragon Age, and Mass Effect. But these video games restrict the character’s sexuality to a choice. What we hardly ever see in all media is a canon lesbian character, and even when we do, the fiction is delivered in a way that only the community it was made for can enjoy. Yet, The Last of Us manages to offer a lesbian character that is so well-written and a romance so believable—it’s just normal. And that’s how it should be.

The Last of Us isn’t an LGBT game. It’s a post-apocalyptic story that happens to include a queer character. It is normalizing these same-sex relationships, both including a lesbian and gay couple (albeit Bill and Frank’s story was far larger in the TV show adaptation). What’s important about games like The Last of Us is that they show different types of love. Much like Arcane, which shows all dynamics of love, The Last of Us doesn’t try to hide how real and mature themes impact everyone, regardless of gender, religion, or culture.

Warning for huge story spoilers if you haven’t played The Last of Us Part II or seen season 2 of the TV show.

The Lack of Good Romance in Video Games

There aren’t many great portrayals of romance in video games, period. There’s Haven, It Takes Two, Uncharted, Final Fantasy, Yakuza, and The Legend of Zelda as the most obvious picks, but that’s where the list pretty much ends. Most romance in video games is surface-level, often suited towards the male gaze standard, or included as backstory and “depth” for a character’s development.

As Ellie’s story is about abandonment and revenge, it makes sense for there to be a prominent romantic figure in her life. While you could argue this used queer love to make Ellie and TLOU stand out, we all know this series is enjoyed regardless of Ellie’s sexual orientation—just look at how much everyone loves Joel. Why queer love in this instance works is because TLOU is by no means just about Ellie.

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Her love story is only important when she’s the main character. It acts as her stakes in the story, the lengths she’s willing to go, and who she needs to think about when obsessing over revenge. Look at how this behavior changed Abby—her counterpart. When the POV swaps to Abby, we get to see her love story with Owen (or lack thereof because of Abby’s choices), which is equally as important as Ellie’s. The literal swap of protagonist/antagonist is there so we can focus on how love develops and impacts both characters. This demonstrates how queer love is the same as straight love.

The Emptiness of Multiple-Choice Romance

Multiple-choice romance is exclusive to RPGs and dating sims. Most popular in games like Baldur’s Gate, Dragon Age, Life is Strange, Stardew Valley, and even Telltale’s The Walking Dead, we’ve learned to be satisfied by these manufactured relationships that lack layers and depth, often presented in a shallow form. They’re present for the player who gets to choose their favorite based on appearance and surface-level personality. This is where queer love is almost always implemented.

This lacklustre attempt at representation doesn’t work because the player is given the freedom to choose. It’s pure escapism whereby you embody the character and pick based on what you like, rather than enjoy watching a romance unfold on screen. The protagonist often isn’t voiced, making the relationship one-sided so that you can fill in. Real romance has its highs and lows; it’s a compromising relationship that shows the willingness to develop as a person and work hard to stay together (captured perfectly in Ellie and Dina’s story). Multiple-choice romance isn’t carefully crafted as the relationship is there to make you—the viewer—happy.

Romantic options are there to make you feel good. It’s fantasy, whereas love, when implemented correctly transcends fiction. We often cannot relate to multiple-choice romance as they’re too perfect, catering more to the honeymoon phase of a relationship, and skipping the natural downs that come after the initial euphoric high.

Lesbian Representation in Media

If you want to enjoy a film or TV show with a realistic portrayal of female same-sex relationships, then there’s not much to find outside of Sarah Waters’ novels. I went on a lesbian film marathon last year (as you do), looking for something to fill the void after Vi and Cait in Arcane—now knowing what nuanced writing looks like. The outcome was mixed; with outrageous films that fetishized lesbians (Blue is the Warmest Color), pure misery (Tell It to the Bees, Disobedience, Lost and Delirious), coming of age tales (You Can Live Forever, But I’m a Cheerleader, Jennifer’s Body) and stories that left me feeling empty (Carol and The Miseducation of Cameron Post).

The only instance of a well-written queer story that can be enjoyed by the masses was The Color Purple; an ambiguous romance layered underneath a traumatizing story. Few manage to deliver a story where a lesbian character just happened to be there, rather than the focal point. Yet asking for more seems to be woke or a demand for more DEI. Of course, I don’t want queer love to be present in literally everything, but it’s truly mind-boggling how we have such few examples of fiction that happen to include a queer character that isn’t centered around the plot.

What Makes Ellie and Dina’s Relationship So Special

Unlike multiple-choice romance, there’s nuance in Ellie and Dina’s relationship. It’s not there to entertain or please the viewer, but is important to understanding who Ellie and Dina are as believable characters. It’s as important as Joel and Ellie’s father-daughter dynamic, Abby and Lev’s elder sister-younger brother dynamic, or Joel and Tommy’s brother dynamic. The inclusion of Dina being bisexual is smart as it opens the opportunity for conflict, a format that’s used in all fiction. But there’s no spotlight on it. Instead, same-sex is normalized whenever it’s subtly brought up.

The Last of Us Part II is a drawn-out, full-circle moment of Ellie’s insecurities and fears of being alone coming to fruition. She told Joel everyone she’s ever cared about has either died or left her. This would come true in Part II in multiple instances: Joel and Jesse’s death, Dina being pregnant with Jesse’s child, Tommy feeling betrayed, and Dina and J.J. leaving her. Abandonment and control are common themes in Ellie’s life. Every conflict is crucial to Ellie’s development.

Ellie and Dina’s romance is easy to understand yet layered, beautifully crafted like every other TLOU relationship. We get subtlety in their affections towards each other as it’s established in Ellie’s journal and Dina’s pursuit at the party. Their conversations are natural, with chemistry and banter on constant show as you explore Seattle and the lookout routes surrounding Jackson. The portrayal of love is shown through their actions, not words; like how Dina was willing to risk breathing in spores when Ellie’s gas mask broke.

The best scene that perfectly illustrates Ellie and Dina’s love for one another is when Ellie returns to the theatre after torturing Nora. It’s a mostly silent scene where their facial expressions and actions speak for themselves; being a reminder for Dina (and us) that Ellie’s still in there.

Their relationship is realistic for its light and darkness, where we’re shown that love isn’t perfect. As a queer person—I’m allowed to say—the word love is massively overused in the community. So, for it to only be used once in this relationship, tells us how little the pair speaks about their feelings, but are aware of them because of their actions. This, in contrast to standard video game romance, is a breath of fresh air.

Ellie and Dina’s relationship is real because it includes highs and lows throughout. Their love for one another is something everyone should be able to relate to. There’s consistency in the relationship as it’s about protecting one another and enjoying the time they have together. It’s about truly living in an undead world where you could get bitten and turn at any moment. But just like Abby and Owen, Ellie and Dina couldn’t last, as Ellie was lost when they got together, her mind purely focused on exacting revenge. The Last of Us reminds us that timing is everything.

The Last of Us handles queer-coded scenes with subtlety that (at times) link back to the stigmatization of same-sex love (e.g., the party and how Ellie tells Dina she can’t get infected by being with her). These scenes and their meanings aren’t thrown in your face, but act as moments of conflict, much like any other fictional romance portrayed on the big screen.

Ellie and Dina Feel Real

I need more relationships like Ellie and Dina’s because they’re real. We can all hope for a happy ending for Ellie and Dina, but that’s not how the world works. Love in video games is often empty or tantalizing. It is through shows like Arcane and games like The Last of Us that we’re shown realistic portrayals of all types of love, which greatly strengthens the content of the media we’re consuming, as it doesn’t sugar coat anything. If Ellie and Dina’s relationship were perfect, it’d take away from the gut-wrenching tale of Part II and lessen the seriousness of the setting and plot.

We need realistic portrayals of love because media can shape our perception of how things are. The perfect love story doesn’t exist, and we shouldn’t be aiming for a fantasy. Otherwise, all we’ll ever be is disappointed. Ellie and Dina don’t get to have a happy ending (mostly because of the choices Ellie made), and that’s okay. Fiction or not, the happy ever after, picture-perfect love doesn’t exist—and instead requires work to maintain. The love story seen in The Last of Us captures just that, and I need it to become the standard.