Clementine time going back to her House theory?
Been giving The Walking Dead and a break for a while, and saw these interesting theory/rumors that Clementine might go back to Georgia to her house in (Episode 5 Take Us Back) now I’ve been thinking about this theory and does sound a little far-fetched don’t you think?
I mean why go back to Georgia, I mean it’s been eight years and I doubt Georgia will still be any better Man for all I know Georgia is pretty much Walkertown and not even human life soooo.... I don’t see why the point is going back to her house in Macon.
What do you guys think?
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Don't you mean Episode 4?
While it would be nice to see, it's practically impossible and serves no purpose other than to give the audience an emotional moment and act as a callback to S1. "Remember when you came here as Lee after his car accident? Remember that pool of blood he slipped on? Remember listening to the voice mail left by Clem's mom? Remember the tree house, the one Clem lived in for a few days? Remember Sandra, that babysitter who's face you bashed in?" That's all it would ever come down to. And like I said, it would be too hard for her to get down there, considering how she's currently in Virginia. It would take her days just to travel there, another couple of days to get back, there's the threat of running out of gas, and considering how she is dealing with Lilly's group and this war, there's just no time for her to travel all that way.
Mymistake lol, got distracted was in a hurry to go to Walmart.
When Brody was talking about a road trip I thought there would be an option to say you wanna go back to Georgia, but I guess there's not a lot of reasons to do that unless Clem wants some nostalgia
Won't happen.
Hope so, that would be so far-fetched and ridiculous.
Did you buy Halestorm's new album 'Vicious' whilst you were there? You would have received two bonus tracks.
One reason part of me imagined something like this is because of something I read in World War Z. It's near the end, as the US army (at least the part the interviewee is in) is pushing towards the East Coast:
"And then there were psych casualties. More than anything else combined. Sometimes we’d march into barricaded zones and find nothing but rat-gnawed skeletons. I’m talking about the zones that weren’t overrun, the ones that fell to starvation or disease, or just a feeling that tomorrow wasn’t worth seeing.
We once broke into a church in Kansas where it was clear the adults killed all the kids first. One guy in our platoon, an Amish guy, used to read all their suicide notes, commit them to memory, then give himself this little cut, this tiny half-inch nick somewhere on his body so he would “never forget.” Crazy bastard was sliced from his neck to the bottom of his toes. When the LT found out about it…sectioned eight his ass right outa there.
Most of the Eight Balls were later in the war. Not from the stress, though, you understand, but from the lack of it. We all knew it would be over soon, and I think a lot of people who’d been holding it together for so long must’ve had that little voice that said, “Hey, buddy, it’s cool now, you can let go.”
I knew this one guy, massive ’roidasaurus, he’d been a professional wrestler before the war. We were walking up the freeway near Pulaski, New York, when the wind picked up the scent of a jackknifed big rig. It’d been loaded with bottles of perfume, nothing fancy, just cheap, strip mall scent. He froze and started bawlin’ like a kid. Couldn’t stop. He was a monster with a two grand body count, an ogre who’d once picked up a G and used it as a club for hand-to-hand combat. Four of us had to carry him out on a stretcher. We figured the perfume must have reminded him of someone. We never found out who.
Another guy, nothing special about him, late forties, balding, bit of a paunch, as much as anyone could have back then, the kinda face you’d see in a prewar heartburn commercial. We were in Hammond, Indiana, scouting defenses for the siege of Chicago. He spied a house at the end of a deserted street, completely intact except for boarded-up windows and a crashed-in front door. He got a look on his face, a grin. We should have known way before he dropped out of formation, before we heard the shot. He was sitting in the living room, in this worn, old easy chair, SIR between his knees, that smile still on his face. I looked up at the pictures on the mantelpiece. It was his home."
I guess part of me wants to see how Clementine would react to something like that, complete with the answering machine and her mother's last words.