Cyberpunk 2077, the most recent game from Witcher developer CD Projekt Red, was first announced in 2012. In the last couple years, it’s had an onslaught of hype and dripfed information, most of which I’ve ignored. The developers have promised unlimited freedom, unparalleled graphics, and cameos from celebrities like Grimes and Keanu Reeves. Much of what I’ve seen, though, has been a turnoff, a sign of a game that might be desperate to be edgy. Cyberpunk 2077 has been delayed multiple times in the past year, and developers crunched to finish it despite the studio’s several promises they wouldn’t. It’s courted controversy prior to release for negative depictions of trans people, trucking in racial stereotypes, and the labor practices of its development. Its pre-release life has all been so much noise, the game’s marketing department and segments of its fanbase desperate to tell you how Good and Cool and Important it is. You’d be excused for being sick of it already, or just ready for everyone to stop talking and put it in your hands.
I haven’t fallen in love with playing Cyberpunk 2077, but I haven’t loathed it either. Some moments have been exciting or moving, while others have just felt like stuff to do. I’m middle-of-the-road on it so far—having fun in spots, left wanting the game to be more like what made The Witcher 3 great in others. The game itself wants so badly for you to think it’s cool, that it’s the cutting edge of graphics and game design, that it talks about edgy topics like body modification, corporate power, and the internet. It tries too hard, stuffing itself with a tangle of complicated roleplaying game systems; with so many cyberpunk tropes, plots, and slang; with neon and holograms and so many in-game ads, most of them for sex; with car chases and hacking and corporate espionage and double-crossing powerful people; with a world where the human body is made obsolete with money and technology, while also chewed up and spat out for the sake of capital.
But I still have a lot of game left to play. Kotaku got the game less than a week before embargo, and only on PC. (CDPR has not sent us code for the console version of the game, though we’ve been asking.) Even putting aside most of my other editorial and job duties, after 30 active hours of play and more spent in menus and glossaries, I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface of Cyberpunk’s massive world. The game is divided into a prologue and three acts, and I’m currently somewhere in Act II, juggling multiple main story quests and a jaw-dropping abundance of side activities, simultaneously about to meet with a street gang, plan next steps with a character bent on revenge, and do various personal quests for characters I’ve met. While at first I attempted to mainline the plot for the purposes of review, curiosity about the world and the sidequests got the better of me, as well as the necessity of veering off the main plot for the sake of gaining necessary XP to level up my character. Like The Witcher 3, it’s a game I want to play slowly, which is at odds with the nature of reviewing. As such, I’ve decided to hit on the game’s main facets here, and present my thoughts on them so far, with a full review to come later.
Cyberpunk 2077 is a futuristic, first-person open-world roleplaying game, based on a tabletop RPG that first came out in 1988. It’s about a mercenary named V who, unlike the strong personality of The Witcher’s Geralt, is more of a canvas for the player to paint. Your appearance can be customized with a range of skin colors, hairstyles, and features. Rather than picking between “male” and “female,” you choose a traditionally male or female body type and choose between two penis types or one vagina. The pronoun characters use for you is either “he” or “she” based on your voice.
V lives in the California metropolis of Night City in the year 2077, when corporations have taken over the world and everyone has filled their bodies with cybernetic implants. How V gets there is dictated by one of your background choices; my V is a nomad, a smuggler who starts the game in the outskirts called the Badlands. That background gives me specific dialogue options throughout the game, such as commenting on the clan of nomads I left behind, or getting quest information from another nomad whose clothes I recognize. Whatever background you choose, a big heist goes wrong, and V finds himself in possession of a hot piece of technology: a biochip that promises a form of immortality. This gets him involved with Johnny Silverhand, a rock star-turned-terrorist who died decades ago and wants revenge. Silverhand looks just like Keanu Reeves, who voices him, and he talks in a way I can best describe as “Keanu Reeves is voice acting.” Keanu Reeves skulking into a scene to voice act can be distracting, but he can also be interesting and charming. To deal with all this, V makes friends and enemies with various Night City street gangs and power players, working as a gun/hacker/smuggler-for-hire for anyone who’ll pay or offer information, be that gangs, individuals, or the Night City Police Department. Main missions I’ve played so far have involved glitzy hacking heists in expensive locales, kidnappings requiring lots of explosions, and looking for information in a high-end, high-tech sex club. I’ve also used a technology called a Braindance that lets me experience people’s memories in first person, then zoom around inside them with a third-person camera to focus on audio, visual, and heat clues. It’s a sometimes clunky but compelling system that you’ll understand if you saw the 1995 movie Strange Days.
It’s all just so cyberpunk, a modern game in love with decades of books, movies, and anime about the nihilistic techno-future. From the jump, everyone talks in incomprehensible slang, the kind of thing I love to let wash over me when reading a William Gibson novel, but maddening as I struggled to parse conversations or find an item with a technobabble name that gave no clue as to what it was. The dialogue can sometimes be ridiculous: I cracked up when, in all seriousness, a character told me they would send me the “detes” about an emotionally-charged situation.