“Just don’t forget… the game is fixed.”
I first played Cyberpunk 2077 a few years ago, not too long since its release, and ever since then I have held my overall stance that this is a game that cannot rebound because of the glaring problems that were too fundamental to change. I’m going to make something clear: I think the narrative that has been built over the course of these years since Cyberpunk launched has been nothing short of frustrating. It was annoying since the beginning, when this game became a hot topic to discuss, but it mutated into something I can’t stand. It took CD Projekt RED to commission an anime from the most mainstream crowd-pleasing studio working right now to gaslight everyone into believing Cyberpunk 2077 was actually always good, man. That the game never had any problems besides a buggy launch, man. That it’s the Fallout: New Vegas of our generation, man. If you cringed while reading that, imagine how I felt typing it. My problem here is that this mindset, including the annoying talking points that came with it, undermines the critical evaluation Cyberpunk 2077 desperately needs in favor of misguided thinking and plain historical revisionism. To echo my original takeaway from the game, Cyberpunk 2077 is not this zero-to-hero redemption story that people would love to spin it as. If you want to gander at redemption stories in the industry, then look at Final Fantasy XIV, which I believe might be the greatest example of one in recent memory, even beating out No Man’s Sky. That was a game that came out, meeting both critical and commercial disappointment, during a time when the franchise was already in unsteady waters among fans because of the reception of the last entry. People even thought back then that this game’s poor performance was going to make Square Enix bankrupt after annual fiscal reports showed them losing 91.7% of their earnings. It took shutting down the servers, bringing in a completely new creative voice and team, fertilizing a dedicated community, and rebuilding the game from scratch to deliver what’s now the most commercially profitable Final Fantasy game in history. Nowadays, you can expect to see this game held in high regard among fans as not just one of the greatest in the whole franchise but their personal favorite. I bring this up because it’s a comparison that highlights just what was truly at stake for CD Projekt RED regarding Cyberpunk 2077, and it’s honestly not much. Sure, this shattered the honeymoon phase CD Projekt RED earned from everybody when they put out Witcher 3. So, everyone knows how hard they fumbled their golden reputation as developers when they made another game that didn’t pass the expected bar of quality. But I feel this is mostly a vocal minority at this point because, disastrous launch aside, Cyberpunk 2077 was still a commercial success that pulled in enough critical praise despite technical shortcomings.
Originally, I was planning on doing a full write-up for both Cyberpunk 2077 and Phantom Liberty separately. The more I played the game again, trying new things and changing things up to see if it was worth replaying, the more I realized it wasn't worth it. It’s remarkable that despite overhauling the progression and certain gameplay quirks, my feelings remained mostly unchanged since that first playthrough years ago. I won’t delve deep because of that, but to give a quick rundown of my thoughts on the base game: The story is boring and lacks urgency. The cracks behind how scripted and strictly linear the main quests are show in replay, with how obvious the game expects you to play as Street Kid through and through. The gameplay feels better attuned to making roleplaying builds, but it still isn’t there yet, since the only significant difference is whether you’re a netrunner or not. The open world definitely feels the most improved with a proactive police force, gang wars, and the worthwhile side quests being rapidly sent straight to you instead of the repetitive side gigs I originally stumbled upon. I still hate Johnny Silverhand as a character because I think what he represents about the game’s themes and approach to dystopian science fiction is almost as annoying as it is disappointing. I gave Cyberpunk 2077 another go for two reasons. One, it seemed like CD Projekt RED was attempting to address specific criticisms I had with the base game. Two, this built the stage for Phantom Liberty to feel like a substantial rebound for the promised potential of the game and an indicator for how CD Projekt RED will go forward from here.
Phantom Liberty is what I wished Cyberpunk 2077 should’ve been from the start, yet it still could’ve been so much more. I didn’t find the story here as engaging as people who beat it, but I understand it better than I did with the main game. There’s so much more dramatic urgency here; the stakes flow better from side quest to side quest; the characters are better used to get you engaged; the few choices that matter feel weighty in the emotional implications for V. Dog Town; the section of the map where Phantom Liberty is set feels distinctive; and most of the overhauled systems of the gameplay were taken full advantage of. The side gigs here don’t feel like repetitive open-world busywork, but an expansion of what's going on in Dog Town, tying back into Night City proper. The more I think about it, having just beaten it, the more I realize how much of what Phantom Liberty is trying to do is something I can get behind. Which is why it’s such a damn shame that Phantom Liberty, despite some promises, leaves little impact on me, just like the main game did. The most damning thing I could say about Phantom Liberty as an experience is that it’s exactly like playing Skyrim with mods. What praise I can give it feels limp because the foundation it's building on is flawed by design. The quest design is one of the biggest issues I have with Cyberpunk 2077, which is carried over into Phantom Liberty. It's such a boring way to mesh together GTA-styled missions, Naughty Dog-styled walk-and-talk sequences, and RPG Quest Design 101. These differing approaches never feel balanced out very well, so some quests feel needlessly padded out for the sake of story content, while others lack purpose beyond an excuse to pump out tiring combat sections. The loot-and-shoot grind can only be bandaged up so much to distract how monotonous it feels. This made me raise my eyebrow at this expansion averaging around 15–20 hours, counting as little side content as possible, because I felt like it could've been completed around 8 hours instead.
I'm not surprised that the release of the big 2.0 update and Phantom Liberty officially marks the end of CD Projekt RED's continued maintenance. Someone can look at this and say it's a crowning victory for their long-fought stride to "fix" the game, but I see it as them quietly admitting defeat by picking up their losses towards a sequel where they can start completely fresh now. After all, why bother putting millions of dollars worth of resources and labor into patching up a game compromised by its development and aimless design philosophy when you can just put that towards an entirely new game where those problems could just never exist? Maybe "Project Orion" will be the one to fully convince me that CD Projekt RED can truly deliver the fulfilling roleplaying experience I expect. Since this one will never be the one to do it right.
I first played Cyberpunk 2077 a few years ago, not too long since its release, and ever since then I have held my overall stance that this is a game that cannot rebound because of the glaring problems that were too fundamental to change. I’m going to make something clear: I think the narrative that has been built over the course of these years since Cyberpunk launched has been nothing short of frustrating. It was annoying since the beginning, when this game became a hot topic to discuss, but it mutated into something I can’t stand. It took CD Projekt RED to commission an anime from the most mainstream crowd-pleasing studio working right now to gaslight everyone into believing Cyberpunk 2077 was actually always good, man. That the game never had any problems besides a buggy launch, man. That it’s the Fallout: New Vegas of our generation, man. If you cringed while reading that, imagine how I felt typing it. My problem here is that this mindset, including the annoying talking points that came with it, undermines the critical evaluation Cyberpunk 2077 desperately needs in favor of misguided thinking and plain historical revisionism. To echo my original takeaway from the game, Cyberpunk 2077 is not this zero-to-hero redemption story that people would love to spin it as. If you want to gander at redemption stories in the industry, then look at Final Fantasy XIV, which I believe might be the greatest example of one in recent memory, even beating out No Man’s Sky. That was a game that came out, meeting both critical and commercial disappointment, during a time when the franchise was already in unsteady waters among fans because of the reception of the last entry. People even thought back then that this game’s poor performance was going to make Square Enix bankrupt after annual fiscal reports showed them losing 91.7% of their earnings. It took shutting down the servers, bringing in a completely new creative voice and team, fertilizing a dedicated community, and rebuilding the game from scratch to deliver what’s now the most commercially profitable Final Fantasy game in history. Nowadays, you can expect to see this game held in high regard among fans as not just one of the greatest in the whole franchise but their personal favorite. I bring this up because it’s a comparison that highlights just what was truly at stake for CD Projekt RED regarding Cyberpunk 2077, and it’s honestly not much. Sure, this shattered the honeymoon phase CD Projekt RED earned from everybody when they put out Witcher 3. So, everyone knows how hard they fumbled their golden reputation as developers when they made another game that didn’t pass the expected bar of quality. But I feel this is mostly a vocal minority at this point because, disastrous launch aside, Cyberpunk 2077 was still a commercial success that pulled in enough critical praise despite technical shortcomings.
Originally, I was planning on doing a full write-up for both Cyberpunk 2077 and Phantom Liberty separately. The more I played the game again, trying new things and changing things up to see if it was worth replaying, the more I realized it wasn't worth it. It’s remarkable that despite overhauling the progression and certain gameplay quirks, my feelings remained mostly unchanged since that first playthrough years ago. I won’t delve deep because of that, but to give a quick rundown of my thoughts on the base game: The story is boring and lacks urgency. The cracks behind how scripted and strictly linear the main quests are show in replay, with how obvious the game expects you to play as Street Kid through and through. The gameplay feels better attuned to making roleplaying builds, but it still isn’t there yet, since the only significant difference is whether you’re a netrunner or not. The open world definitely feels the most improved with a proactive police force, gang wars, and the worthwhile side quests being rapidly sent straight to you instead of the repetitive side gigs I originally stumbled upon. I still hate Johnny Silverhand as a character because I think what he represents about the game’s themes and approach to dystopian science fiction is almost as annoying as it is disappointing. I gave Cyberpunk 2077 another go for two reasons. One, it seemed like CD Projekt RED was attempting to address specific criticisms I had with the base game. Two, this built the stage for Phantom Liberty to feel like a substantial rebound for the promised potential of the game and an indicator for how CD Projekt RED will go forward from here.
Phantom Liberty is what I wished Cyberpunk 2077 should’ve been from the start, yet it still could’ve been so much more. I didn’t find the story here as engaging as people who beat it, but I understand it better than I did with the main game. There’s so much more dramatic urgency here; the stakes flow better from side quest to side quest; the characters are better used to get you engaged; the few choices that matter feel weighty in the emotional implications for V. Dog Town; the section of the map where Phantom Liberty is set feels distinctive; and most of the overhauled systems of the gameplay were taken full advantage of. The side gigs here don’t feel like repetitive open-world busywork, but an expansion of what's going on in Dog Town, tying back into Night City proper. The more I think about it, having just beaten it, the more I realize how much of what Phantom Liberty is trying to do is something I can get behind. Which is why it’s such a damn shame that Phantom Liberty, despite some promises, leaves little impact on me, just like the main game did. The most damning thing I could say about Phantom Liberty as an experience is that it’s exactly like playing Skyrim with mods. What praise I can give it feels limp because the foundation it's building on is flawed by design. The quest design is one of the biggest issues I have with Cyberpunk 2077, which is carried over into Phantom Liberty. It's such a boring way to mesh together GTA-styled missions, Naughty Dog-styled walk-and-talk sequences, and RPG Quest Design 101. These differing approaches never feel balanced out very well, so some quests feel needlessly padded out for the sake of story content, while others lack purpose beyond an excuse to pump out tiring combat sections. The loot-and-shoot grind can only be bandaged up so much to distract how monotonous it feels. This made me raise my eyebrow at this expansion averaging around 15–20 hours, counting as little side content as possible, because I felt like it could've been completed around 8 hours instead.
I'm not surprised that the release of the big 2.0 update and Phantom Liberty officially marks the end of CD Projekt RED's continued maintenance. Someone can look at this and say it's a crowning victory for their long-fought stride to "fix" the game, but I see it as them quietly admitting defeat by picking up their losses towards a sequel where they can start completely fresh now. After all, why bother putting millions of dollars worth of resources and labor into patching up a game compromised by its development and aimless design philosophy when you can just put that towards an entirely new game where those problems could just never exist? Maybe "Project Orion" will be the one to fully convince me that CD Projekt RED can truly deliver the fulfilling roleplaying experience I expect. Since this one will never be the one to do it right.