Modern popular culture is not very good at endings. Writers find them difficult, fans find them unsatisfying – from Lost to the Sopranos, our episodic fiction is so expansive and all-consuming these days, so labyrinthine with sub-plots and character arcs, that it is almost impossible to end everything gracefully; at least to the satisfaction of most viewers. And by God, those viewers get angry about it.

Of course, epic novelists have managed complex narratives for hundreds of years, but they did so before the endless discursive whirl of social media. Nowadays fans rely on continuity not closure; they want to keep talking, and whether its Harry Potter or Towie, the primary narrative is only ever a kicking off point for community conjecture and debate. Late in the 20th century, multinational corporations found that they had to bet billions on entertainment brands and then endlessly stretch out the rare successes to maximise profitability. Modern popular culture is not very good at endings because endings are anathema to the franchise process that we have embraced. Art is about ownership these days.

The Last of Us belied that process. Naughty Dog's apocalyptic masterpiece, in which humanity is struck down by a parasitic fungal infection, had an ending. Its two protagonists, the world-weary and remorseful Joel, the young and determined Ellie, reached conclusions that were logical to the themes of the game. The ending that came was harrowing, it was controversial, it was as bleak as the deserted urban landscapes that formed the game's haunting backdrops. But it was an ending.

And yet now we have The Last of Us: Remastered. Converted from PlayStation 3 to PlayStation 4, with upscaled visual fidelity and an improved frame rate, the commercial objective is obvious – Sony needs bandstanding releases for its new console, and while developers are still working on showcase titles, here is one we made earlier. But the idea that this is somehow The Last of Us for people who missed the PS3 version is slightly disingenuous – it sold 6m copies, after all. UPDATE: However, as one reader points out in the comments section below, it's true that the PS4 has attracted a large amount of Xbox owners who have deserted the Microsoft camp and genuinely are discovering this title for the first time.

Nevertheless, this is also a release for completists. For fans. It adds the wonderful Left Behind downloadable content, which expands the back-story of co-protagonist Ellie, it adds new multiplayer maps, and a "director's commentary". Vitally, too, it provides a photo mode that lets you pause the action and take snaps from any angle. This last feature, though seemingly modest, is hugely telling. It is an invitation to veterans to really inhabit this world, to explore and document it like tourists. They've done the narrative, now it's time to really dig in and "be" the Last of Us. To make fresh discoveries; to keep the story alive. To inhabit. To own.

The curse of the collectors

Really, the Last of Us: Remastered is very much the gaming equiavelent of a DVD or Blu-Ray "collectors edition", those bulky confections filled with documentaries that most people will never watch and audio commentaries that most will never hear. In these synthetic archeological artifacts, fans of old media – the movies produced before the age of the franchise – get to re-experience favourite narratives, get to kid themselves that a few deleted scenes will spark the story back to life for them, that it will reanimate dormant plot strands. We don't want things to end – that's natural. But now it is a global entertainment business plan. "It's OK, it's not over, we found some more footage."

Modern creators are taught to propogate doubt; to hint, to tease, to suggest there is more. Even if a successful series, game or movie ends, every festival or conference appearance is an opportunity to seed expectation. At an event to celebrate the launch of the Last of Us Remastered this week, the game's director, Neil Druckmann hinted that there is a secret ending to the game, picking up the story four years later. That impish revelation will hit the forums and news sites like a religious proclamation. Maybe there can be more. Maybe it hasn't ended. Maybe there will be a sequel.

Modern fandom is a complex business. We want more and yet we dread it. The likes of the Phantom Menace and Prometheus have shown us that you can't go back, that addition so often becomes subtraction. Somehow we want it and have to see it. We live in an endless present, where every movie, album and TV series ever loved is becoming instantly available through digital distribution. Twin Peaks is out on Blu-ray this week, and will no doubt fan the flames of frustration. David Lynch didn't end it the way he wanted, did he? There were too many questions. But yet, as with Lost, the questions were always the substance. They can't and shouldn't be answered.

The last of Us Remastered has earned favourable reviews; if you haven't played this genuinely gripping and meaningful game, you should purchase it. If you have played, this is an interesting chance to re-experience it, to talk about it again, to try things a little differently.

But that's it. The Last of Us ended. It launched and closed a franchise in one stunningly effective thrust. No extra DLC, hidden endings or spin-off adventures will add to that impact. Closure is painful and we have invented a technoculture in which it can be kept at bay. But sometimes, it has to happen. The best stories end and then they haunt us; they leave something of themselves that cannot be substantiated or monetised.

As Don Henley put it in Boys of Summer, his paean to lost love, "Those days are gone forever, I should just let them go."

He was right. And there is no sequel to Boys of Summer.

• The last of Us – review
• The last of Us: Left Behind – review
  
• The Last of Us, Bioshock: Infinite and why all video game dystopias work the same way