Why Twisted Metal is the Best Video Game Adaptation—and Yes, It Beats The Last of Us

Let’s just rip the Band-Aid off!! The Last of Us is not the greatest video game adaptation ever made. It’s not even close. Yes, yes, Pedro Pascal gave you Daddy Joel to thirst over, and yes, Bella Ramsey cried beautifully in front of a ruined mall, and yes, critics clutched their pearls at how this show was “proof video games can be art.” But let’s be real—it wasn’t really a video game adaptation. It was HBO Prestige Drama: Apocalypse Edition, slathered in cordyceps for flavor.

The real champion? The show nobody asked for, nobody expected, and everybody assumed would be a dumpster fire: Twisted Metal. Yeah, I said it. The killer clown with the ice cream truck is wearing the crown, and Joel can cry into his shotgun about it.

Here’s the dirty little secret of prestige TV game adaptations: they want to erase the “game” part as quickly as possible. Hollywood has this pathological need to apologize for gaming. Like, “Oh no, we can’t just make a video game show, heavens no! We must create Important Drama™ so people don’t laugh at us.” That’s what The Last of Us did. It polished away all the rough, weird edges of the game until it looked like every other prestige cable drama—gritty, moody, endlessly beige, with long shots of sad people staring at trees. Sure, it was faithful in terms of plot beats, but it translated the story while amputating the play.

Video games are weird, clunky, and often chaotic. The Last of Us scrubbed that DNA clean, dressed it in an Emmy tuxedo, and expected gamers to cheer because finally, finally, one of “our” stories was respectable. But you know what? Respectability is boring.

Twisted Metal, by contrast, is the drunk uncle at Thanksgiving who shows up shirtless, smells like gasoline, and still somehow makes the party. Everyone thought this adaptation would be a war crime. Instead, it turned out to be the most faithful feeling of a video game ever put on TV. Why? Because it didn’t run away from its source. It embraced the chaos. It said, “Yeah, this is a show about a post-apocalyptic delivery driver with quippy one-liners, a murder clown voiced by Will Arnett, and cars blowing up for no reason. And guess what? It owns.”

Anthony Mackie is in full video-game protagonist mode—half charming, half dumbass, fully lovable. Sweet Tooth is a fever dream of nightmare comedy. Every episode feels like pressing start on the PS2 at 2 a.m., chugging Mountain Dew, and laughing with your friends as you blow up cop cars with missiles. That’s what adaptation is supposed to feel like. Not awards-season depression porn.

Here’s the thing: critics adored The Last of Us because it didn’t feel like a video game. That’s the key. It was “elevated.” Translation: it was serious enough that people who sneer at games could watch it without shame. The tragedy of The Last of Us as a game was having to sneak past clickers with two bullets and a prayer. The tragedy of The Last of Us as a show was watching Joel mope in HD while HBO execs shouted, “Look, Ma! We’re cinema now!” Meanwhile, Twisted Metal is proudly, unapologetically a video game show. It doesn’t care if your English professor approves. It doesn’t care if it wins Emmys. It cares about being fun. And when was the last time you had fun watching Joel stomp mushrooms for nine episodes?

Let’s also talk tone. The Last of Us is allergic to joy. It’s all grief, trauma, misery, and daddy issues. Sure, it’s powerful—but it’s exhausting. It’s the kind of show you respect more than you actually enjoy. Twisted Metal, on the other hand, is violent, crass, dumb, and hilarious. It’s got jokes about snack cakes, awkward buddy-road-trip humor, and scenes where Sweet Tooth is both terrifying and weirdly lovable. It’s trash, yes—but glorious trash. It remembers that video games are supposed to be absurd. Gamers didn’t grow up on muted color palettes and whispered conversations about grief. We grew up on exploding cars, weird mascots, and levels that made no sense. Twisted Metal gives us that back.

The best thing about Twisted Metal? It doesn’t try to be respectable. It knows it’s pulp and leans in. It’s the cinematic equivalent of chugging Surge while smashing action figures together. And it works. The Last of Us wants to be the next Chernobyl. Twisted Metal wants to make you laugh, gasp, and fist-pump when Sweet Tooth sets something on fire. Guess which one actually feels like gaming? Adaptations should capture the soul of games, not just the script. And the soul of most games isn’t high art—it’s chaos. It’s dumb fun. It’s camp. That’s what Twisted Metal nails.

At the end of the day, The Last of Us is a gorgeous show. But it’s a show for people who want to forget they’re watching a game adaptation. It’s cinematic grief porn with cordyceps. Twisted Metal is messy, stupid, violent, funny, and alive. It doesn’t apologize for being a video game show—it celebrates it. And that, ironically, makes it a better adaptation.  So, sorry Joel. The critics can keep their Emmys. The gamers know the truth. The flaming clown in the ice cream truck is king.