The game that hit me in my chest

I didn’t play it at first. I watched it.

Back when The Last of Us first dropped, I caught a full RadBrad playthrough on YouTube—pure chance, but it hit me like fate.

No controller in my hand. Just a screen. And somehow, I was there.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was the start of something. It wasn’t just a story—it was an emotional experience. A trip. One of those journeys that leaves a mark and keeps echoing through you, even years later.

Fast forward. I’ve played both games. Ran through Part 1 twice. Deep into my second playthrough of Part 2.

And every time, it’s like touching something sacred.

I’ve fallen in love with the risks this story takes. The leap into new characters. The emotional weight it isn’t afraid to carry. The way it demands your attention—then breaks your heart with it.

Dead or alive, I’ve genuinely enjoyed my time with every single character.

Now I’m in a place where I can really experience these games how I’ve always wanted to.

Great hardware. Time. Presence.

And I’m grateful.

Grateful to not just play them— but to get lost in them. To feel them.

That’s what inspired this letter.

A demonstration. A tribute. To the lasting impact these games left on me—not just as a player, but as a person.

Next up: I’ll show you what I’m doing to carry that energy forward— how I play, what I create, and the new standard I’m setting for every game I truly love.

Until then,

Fish