Cyberpunk 2077
Developer CD Projekt Red
Publisher CD Projekt
Format PC (tested), PS4, PS5, Stadia, Xbox One, Xbox Series
Release Out now
Keanu Reeves is inside your head and going full John Wick on your psyche. To quote the man himself: bogus. You are V and he is Johnny Silverhand, a long-deceased rocker taking a joyride in your skull and finishing the work that dropped the curtain on him all those years ago. A devil on your shoulder, then, but also a convenient tour guide for Night City, albeit one who spouts as many c-bombs as restaurant recommendations. Think Ocarina Of Time’s Navi from the wrong side of the tracks. As a character, he’s the embodiment of Cyberpunk 2077’s most abrasive impulses; as a device, an ingenious method of tying even the most plodding map filler back to that central dilemma: this head ain’t big enough for the both of us, and it ain’t me who’s gonna leave.
Aside from V’s body the home you share is remarkable, if overly familiar in its satirical targets. Night City presents materialism and capitalism gone haywire and supercharged by sinister tech, but says little more than RoboCop did in 1988, and says it in similar ways to Grand Theft Auto’s modern hellholes: obnoxious DJs, spoof TV shows and adverts that vomit into the sky and drown pavements with smut. But it’s more overwhelming than any GTA. A firstperson camera puts you in your place: a tiny gnat of a mercenary, forced to crane their neck to see the spires of success they aspire to, or that Silverhand would see you topple. That height has powerful allure, with some great missions punching through the smog as you rob gleaming penthouses or brave cruel corporate boardrooms. The way tasks pull you into interiors of all kinds gives a convincing illusion of a city rendered inside and out.