Cyberpunk 2077

I came back to Cyberpunk 2077 three times: at launch, after the 1.6 stability patches, and again when Update 2.0 dropped alongside the Phantom Liberty expansion. Each time the game was measurably better. The version sitting on storefronts right now is the fourth iteration of a title that started life as one of gaming's most spectacular implosions, and it is, by a fair margin, the best one. The 2.0 update gutted the old percentage-soup perk system and replaced it with a tree that actually changes how you play. Speccing into Reflexes means you zip through firefights like a pinball. Going deep on Intelligence turns you into a ghost who wins fights through a Cyberdeck and a set of quickhacks before anyone fires a shot. Body builds let you kick down doors and absorb punishment that should liquefy a human being. Cyberware is now balanced around a points limit rather than a wallet limit, so every implant slot is a meaningful decision rather than a shopping list. Sandevistan slow-motion headshot runs, Contagion hacker builds that spread digital poison through entire squads, stealth netrunner setups that never touch a trigger: the build variety holds up well past hour 40, and that is the bar I use. The story is where Cyberpunk 2077 has always been quietly excellent, even when the performance was disqualifying. V is a terrific protagonist precisely because the game refuses to make their survival a clean victory. Johnny Silverhand, the ghost haunting V's skull, is one of the better-written NPCs in the genre: antagonistic, occasionally right, frequently insufferable in ways that feel earned rather than scripted. The main quest's endings carry genuine weight. None of them are happy in a simple sense, and the writing trusts the player enough not to explain the thematic point in a closing monologue. The side content is uneven: the gigs and NCPD scanner hustles are efficient filler at best and padding at worst, but the named side quests, particularly those involving Judy, Panam, Kerry, and River, are short story arcs that rival the main plot for emotional investment. Phantom Liberty, the standalone expansion set in the Dogtown district, is worth flagging separately even on the base game's page. It shifts tone from mercenary noir to cold-war spy thriller, pairs V with Solomon Reed (a genuinely compelling new character), and adds a Relic skill tree that slots cleanly into any build. Its branching structure produces meaningfully different endings, none of which pull punches. The writing is tighter than much of the base game, and the Dogtown district, while visually similar to the rest of Night City, is designed around denser, more vertical combat encounters that reward stealth and quickhack builds specifically. The criticisms that stick are real. Night City, for all its visual density, remains a largely non-interactive backdrop. You cannot wander into a stranger's apartment and read their mail the way you can in an Elder Scrolls title or a proper immersive sim. The world is gorgeous and curated rather than alive and reactive. Vehicle combat, added in 2.0, feels tacked on rather than integrated. The police system, while vastly improved over launch, still lacks the organic escalation of a Rockstar game. These are structural limits, not fixable by patches, and they keep Cyberpunk 2077 in the category of outstanding linear-ish RPG with open-world aesthetics rather than true sandbox. That is not a condemnation, just a calibration for what you are actually buying. If you read tooltips, care about whether your build choices feel distinct by the midgame, and can tolerate a story that refuses to reward V with a clean win, Cyberpunk 2077 post-2.0 is one of the more complete action-RPGs available on PC right now. The launch discourse is ancient history. Judge it on what it is today.

Monika · Scout Team

RPGs

Be the first to comment on Cyberpunk 2077.