FULL SPOILERS - Basic story knowledge is assumed:
Last Friday I began another play-through of Cyberpunk 2077. I think this is my fifth - maybe sixth. I've only rolled credits on one of those characters, but I've started and partially completed at least four others. Cyberpunk is an exceedingly dense game. There's a LOT to do, but it's also extremely story driven. For someone like me - who tries to reconcile gameplay with narrative logic as much as possible - that can be difficult to mesh.
From the end of the prologue onward - V is on borrowed time, and supposedly fading fast. As you progress through the main quest, physical symptoms begin to worsen. Their "attacks" - visual glitches, coughing up blood, weakness and disorientation - become more frequent. I appreciate the way the game deals with this, very "show, don't tell". There's just one problem - they do tell.
"You don't have much time left. Much ... life. A few weeks, tops." This from our favorite ripperdoc, Victor Vector.
"Tops" seems pretty definitive. "A few" somewhat less so. So what's "a few"? More than two, less than four? So Vic - by all accounts one of the best rippers in Night City - seems pretty sure we'll be dead inside a month. Then why am I wasting time riding roller coasters with the ghost in my head, setting up stings to catch the men in black on the advice of a self proclaimed "Prophet", and helping a washed up rock star get the band back together?
I'm someone who will take advantage of whatever role-play opportunities a game affords. I like making sure my V gets a full nights rest whenever possible, takes care of herself by eating and showering each morning, and picking out the coolest looking outfit before leaving for the day. I spend the first hour after waking up "working" on my gear (standing in the workshop while I disassemble all the weapons I looted the day before to make upgrade components out of). Immersion is something I really value in a game, and Cyberpunk does it better than most. Except, with a single line, they create a huge immersion problem.
How am I - while in character as V - supposed to feel right about experiencing everything this game has to offer when they know they only have a maximum of thirty days to live unless they hit the bricks and start working the problem? In my current play-through it's already been six in-game days since I got my prognosis, and I've only procrastinated as much as I felt was realistic.
The first day after coming home from Vic's clinic I felt that even with the ticking clock it was reasonable for V to need some time to process her trauma, so after meeting with Takemura I just started walking. Walking around Night City is fun - even if there's nothing happening, there's always something cool to look at. Having played Cyberpunk before, I also happened to know that as soon as I climbed into my car it was going to get trashed by a rampaging sentient taxi, and I wasn't ready to trigger that mission just yet. So I walked. I took in the sights. I experienced the world in a way I usually don't. Then while walking I got a text from Mama Welles, the grieving mother of my fallen friend Jackie. I didn't feel like I should have that conversation out in public on the sidewalk, so I wait until I get home to call her back and receive my invite to Jackie's ofrende. It's late at night by now, and though this in game event isn't something I can truly be early or late to, I figure that around noon the next day seems like a reasonable time to show up. So I go to bed, get up the next day and dress in the only black shirt my V owns at this point without some logo or graphic on it, and take the train to Heywood.
That's the kind of immersion I value in a game. I can head-canon with the best of them, but there's nothing better than when a game gives me the leeway to live in the world. That's also why it's so frustrating when, with a seemingly throwaway line about how much time V has left they create a sense of artificial urgency that is not reflected in gameplay. You can waste as many days as you want in night city. There's even an Easter egg involving an iguana egg that takes 90 in-game days to hatch. But whether it takes you a month, three months or a whole year V is at no risk of dying until you reach the final mission. It may seem like I'm making something out of nothing here - and I don't even disagree. But it would have been simple - even better, in my opinion - not to put a number on it at all. It would have been scarier if Vic told us he didn't know how long it would take the biochip to overwrite our mind, to have the only indication of its progression be the increasing frequency of symptoms which was already in the game as we move through the main plot.
This kind of stuff bugs me, if you couldn't tell. It's not the only story progression issue I have in Cyberpunk, but it is the biggest. In past play-through's I've gotten around this by pretending Vic said "month's" instead of weeks, but I don't like that as a solution. If I can just make shit up and rewrite whatever parts of the story and dialogue don't suit me, then what's the point in following the story at all?
Unfortunately, there really isn't a clean solution. It's just something I have to deal with.
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