The Last of Us has always been quite bold in its exploration of the darker side of human nature. However, the eighth episode, ‘When We Are In Need,’ escalates it to an entirely different and very unsettling level. The show is very explicit about it here. Aside from the fear of the infection, it sheds light on something even more dreadful, the kind of stuff humankind can do when pushed to the extreme.
The whole thing is buried in ice and has this hushed, quiet, eerie, and very tense kind of vibe that is equally suffocating and solitary. The production team deserves a good share of the credit here – the mood is almost tangible. You can almost hear the cold and the loneliness. As Scot Scoop put it, “the locations have a beautiful, haunting quality.”. What if a monster jumped out and attacked our main couple? The difference between the safety of Jackson and the ghostly, deserted dining hall where David’s group meets is tremendous. It’s a very good reminder of the extent to which Ellie and Joel are far from any kind of safety.
But the actual threat in this episode is not the weather, nor even the infected. David, played by Scott Shepherd with such unnerving calm, is a figure of terror right from the opening scenes. He’s everything you don’t want in a leader: he’s a cannibal, a church-dressed manipulator, and, as we subsequently discover, a predator. His background as a teacher makes it all the more disturbing. As IGN puts it, “a cannibal pedophile, he is checking off all the things on a checklist written in Hell.” David is not introduced as yet another villain, however. His queasy interest in the cordyceps fungus—assuming that it suggests some kind of connection or “love”—adds a nauseating philosophical component. While Den of Geek calls his assumptions “a little silly and dismissible,” the idea could have been solid if it were given more room to breathe.
The cannibalism reveal is accomplished with cold, chilling subtlety in the episode. One of the most disturbing moments isn’t gory—it’s quiet. The queasiness of the group’s shame during a meal, topped with the dawning horror that the “venison” is a human named Alec, has a stomach-churning effect. As Pajiba puts it, “humans are the real monsters”—and in this world, maybe cannibalism is not even their darkest transgression.
Ellie’s journey here is ugly and traumatic. Bella Ramsey is fantastic, giving a performance that is both emotionally exposed and intensely resolute. When Ellie finally lashes out, murdering David with a cleaver in a moment of desperate anger, it’s a terrifying catharsis. IGN calls it “an intense second of violence set within a gorgeous frame—the fire burning as Ellie expels all of the bottled up rage and pain from all she’s lost.” This is her redemption. She rescues herself. She’s incredibly traumatized, but she lives—and that counts.
Joel , on the other hand, shows a different side of himself which has been hinted at but never really seen – until now. His hunting of Ellie is harsh, calculated, and relentless. Den of Geek comments, “We know he’s done bad things in the past, but now we’re seeing that he’s only willing to use that dark side of himself if it’s for protecting Ellie.” The show smartly separates Joel from David. Both characters have the intention of going to extremes, but only one of them has totally lost his humanity.
The performances are great. Bella Ramsey makes Ellie a very complex character—brave, afraid, angry, and still holding a little bit of hope. Pedro Pascal’s Joel is equally great, especially the final scene, when he finds Ellie and lovingly calls her “baby girl” – a small but profoundly powerful moment that communicates so much. As IGN points out, “Bella Ramsey and Pedro Pascal are once again brilliant in a touching and powerful expression of anger, relief, and tenderness.”
Theatrically, Episode 8 does not hold back. It’s not monsters in the classical sense of the word—it’s survival, it’s trauma, and how individuals transform when the universe ceases to play by any set of moral guidelines. As Scot Scoop concludes, “it is a story dedicated to regular people,” and how they behave when pushed beyond their limits.” That readiness to investigate moral grayness is part of what makes The Last of Us so compelling—and so unlike most tales about the post-apocalypse.
Technically, this is among the most gorgeous episodes to date. The cinematography walks the fine line between the harshness of a western and the horror of contemporary terror. The music—particularly throughout Ellie’s escape on horseback—is beating, tense, and exquisitely in sync with the visuals, recalling at times the eerie score of Blade Runner 2049.
The series also makes intelligent adaptation decisions. It cuts back on some of the gameplay from the game, such as the long infected sequences, in favor of a narrative that’s character-centric. Some fans might be missing those nods to gameplay, but the trade-off is worth it. Providing more depth to David and a focus on Ellie’s trauma gives the story more gravity. As IGN frames it, “the show takes away with one hand, [but] it does consistently give us those useful little extra moments of context with the other.”
Episode 8 of The Last of Us is a masterclass in storytelling. It confirms that game adaptations don’t need to hold back from heavy subjects or hard truths. It’s harrowing, emotional, and horrifically disturbing—in the very best manner. And if this episode teaches us anything, it’s that the most terrifying monsters aren’t external. They are already amongst us.