As usual, I’ll lay out my biases first–unlike many, I enjoyed Cyberpunk 2077 when it first came out. I played it on an Xbox One X and really didn’t have too many glitches or infuriating experiences. I played it enough then to play through the entire main story. In fact, I wrote a review of the original Cyberpunk 2077 back in 2021 (click here for that).

Later, when I’d sold the Xbox and returned to a gaming PC, I bought the game again. I liked it enough to start a few new playthroughs (that I didn’t finish), mess with some mods, and generally muck about in the game. I’d played a lot of Shadowrun tabletop in my youth, and my proficiency in math is probably due more to FASA games (cyberware calculations in Shadowrun and mech-building in Battletech) than formal education. I make no claim to be a math wiz, it should be said. But the RPG Cyberpunk I was familiar with had a lot of fantasy mixed in, and I’ve still never played a TTRPG in a cyberpunk setting without all the fantastic elements–though I’m convinced of the value of those settings and I’m starting to wonder if I’d like a tabletop cyberpunk game that doesn’t deal with the fantastic better than something like Shadowrun. Remains to be seen. In that way, Cyberpunk 2077 was an eye-opener for me.

So, I was excited for Phantom Liberty to drop and started a new Cyberpunk 2.0 playthrough in advance of the release. Y’all, I liked Cyberpunk 2077 in its original form, but 2.0 made a lot of wonderful changes. The choices of cyberware are more interesting, and the “allowance system” for cyberware more closely matches tabletop Cyberpunk (though it’s far from exact). Crafting was vastly improved, cool new weapons were added, removing the link between clothing and armor allowed for style to be a more prominent feature of the video game, as it is for the tabletop. Here, it’s worth a brief aside that the “style” aspect of Cyberpunk is a little lost on me–I have no sense of style, nor care for one, whatsoever. I’m morally opposed to the “style over substance” mentality in real life, though it fits well for the cyberpunk aesthetic.

Happy with the new changes to the system itself, I was in a good mood when my V got the call to venture into Dogtown to see if I was a bad enough dude to save the president. Not sure that mattered–Phantom Liberty throws you into the deep-end, with a true in-media-res insertion into a confusion but undoubtedly epic course of events. With a brief introduction to the situation and a vague promise of saving you from the Relic, hacker-extraordinaire Songbird, pushes you in the direction of a crashing Air Force One (I don’t remember what they actually called it, and it was an orbital craft, so it may well have been Space Force One).

What ensues is a protracted action sequence as you race against the forces of Kurt Hansen (Captain Kurtz of Heart of Darkness/Apocalypse Now, anyone?), the de facto ruler of Dogtown, to reach the NUSA president first. At least, it was a long running-gun-battle for me, but I was rocking a Sandevistan instead of a cyberdeck, so there could definitely be a stealthier approach available. I don’t remember being excited about a video game fight like that in a long time (frustrated, made anxious and paranoid, sure, but excited? Nope). It’s not that Cyberpunk has particularly innovative gunplay–the cyberware makes things interesting, but I much prefer something like a Tom Clancy game for gunfights, or, if I want to get serious, Ground Branch. Nevertheless, the frenetic pacing, the amped up music, the neon signs backlit by muzzleflashes, it was a good time.

From that whirlwind introduction, the storyline moves into a veritable wilderness of mirrors. You’re linked up with several burnt NUSA spies ready to get back in the game and everyone’s motivations, words, and promises are suspect. As I’ve said many other places on the blog, as uncomfortable as it can be in the moment, I love a game (whether tabletop or digital) that puts characters and players into tough situations without adequate information and difficult moral choices thrust upon them–this makes for the most interesting stories, I think and, you’ll keep thinking about whether you did the right thing (or even the “best” thing under the circumstances) long after you’ve left your chair. Video game designers may like that for its replay value, but I like it for its artistic and philosophical value (unfortunately, I have no brandy to swirl while making such a snobbish statement).

It’s almost like the writers of Phantom Liberty started by going to TVTropes.com and taking note of all the tropes of the espionage genre–in the best of ways. Phantom Liberty takes you through action-movie over-the-topness (see above), gives you Mission Impossible-style encounters where high technology and assumed identity are the name of the game, puts you in fancy dress and lets you meet your opponents at the gambling table, sets Tom Clancy-like political stakes, and introduces you to the gritty backgrounds of characters who’d be at home in a John le Carré novel.

As with a good spy story, nothing is what it initially seems, and it’s not really clear who the “good guys” and “bad guys” are. That plays well with the cyberpunk genre, anyway, n’est pas? So, there are really three ways you can make decisions as you progress through the plot as V: (1) you can look up which decisions get you the best iconic weapons and gear (or at least the ones you most want) and follow a meta-mercenary approach, (2) you can wade into the ambiguity and follow your whims and impulses in the moment, or (3) you can play a character. In this last approach, you’ve got to decide what V really believes in (if anything), and make your choices according to the ideology you’ve assumed in playing the character. That, perhaps, is the best part of Phantom Liberty; it truly invites you to step into V’s head and become the character for a time–that’s really the only way to have coherence to the (many) choices you’ll be asked to make in the story. Many of those choices are truly significant, both for V and for others.

The set-piece battles are amazing, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the humanity of the story that really won me over. In a cyberpunk setting, there’s something about that that feels right. There are four endings to Phantom Liberty (I’m told, having only played through once and personally experienced only one of those endings). The one I got seemed meaningful, poignant–and very cyberpunk.

Not only that, but you get some denouement as well–you’ll get some after-the-fact contacts from characters you encountered in Phantom Liberty and get an idea of what happened to them based on the choices you made. More than a “here’s the consequences of your playthrough” tidy wrap-up (something Starfield does), this gives a sense of living in that world, and living with the consequences of your choices.

Phantom Liberty also adds an inexhaustible, procedurally generated side mission involving boosting cars. These missions are fun, usually net you some skill experience that might be hard to get otherwise (like Netrunning for my V) and earn discount coupons that reduce the price of a single vehicle purchase. These “coupons” stack up to a total 95% discount (meaning you’re buying the Aerondight “Guinevere” for under 10k) but all are spent when a purchase is made and then you start collecting them over again. Between the new Gigs and Side Missions, improvements to crafting and weapon ability, and potentially unlimited funds through grand theft auto, money is no longer an issue for V in Cyberpunk. I’ve got just about all the cyberware I want to be able to use, I’ve rented all of the apartments, and I’ve purchased most of the vehicles (at least the ones I want), and I’m still sitting pretty on four hundred thousand EB.

My enjoyment of the auto-theft missions and the style of cyberpunk missions in general has made me think that we’re in for quite a treat when AI gets more closely integrated with our video-gaming. Imagine endless procedurally-generated but detailed and varied missions available to make a merc career on. I envision something like Cyberpunk 2077 crossed with the “career”-style play of Sid Meier’s Pirates, where each playthrough could be an entirely different experience.

The Side Missions and Gigs added through Phantom Liberty are characterful and interesting–you’re getting more new playtime here than just the main story.

If you enjoyed Cyberpunk 2077 at all, or even if you tried it when it first dropped and didn’t like it, I highly suggest you return to Night City to see if you, too, are a bad enough dude to save the president.