Cyberpunk 2077 still evokes mixed feelings for me. I enjoyed my recent playthrough on PS5 significantly more than I did on PC in 2020. While my first time with the game wasn’t too much of a bug, I had a hard crash or two and it tended to get hot and sluggish on my gaming laptop. Now, years later, the bugs have been squashed, the game runs smoothly and I can relax on my couch as I make my way through Night City at a leisurely pace.
Even with the bugs fixed, Cyberpunk 2077 is still showing signs of CD Projekt Red’s rush to get it out the door before it was ready. I’ve written before about the ways the game doesn’t do much to reward exploration and how you’re much more likely to run into closed doors than an exciting discovery if you venture into alleyways. But more than the lack of interiors, Cyberpunk 2077 reveals its rushed production in the thinness of its writing.
To explain what I’m talking about, I think it’s helpful to look at a moment when Cyberpunk 2077 is at full throttle narratively. Popularly known as “Sinnerman,” Joshua Stephenson’s quest begins with that quest, transitions into a second act called “There’s a Light That Never Goes Out,” and ends with “They Won’t Go When I Go.” It starts with a call from Wakako Okada, a fixer who runs a pachinko parlor in Japantown, asking you to exterminate Stephenson, a convicted murderer who is out of prison on leave. If you agree to the quest, you’ll meet Bill Jablonsky, the husband of one of your target’s victims. Jablonsky wants to watch you kill him, and lets you follow Stephenson’s police escort until he gets stuck in traffic. You and Jablonsky get out, but an NCPD officer quickly shoots him dead. Stephenson asks you to go with him for the rest of the day in exchange for the same amount Wakako offered.
Do this and it will be revealed that Stephenson found Jesus in prison. A braindance studio, chasing his religious awakening, offers to create a BD in which Stephenson is crucified. Since he’s up for the electric chair anyway, Stephenson agrees, thinking that dying the same way Christ did, and experiencing the same cocktail of fear, faith, and doubt at the execution—that anyone watching the brain dance will feel— will help save millions of souls. If you keep this quest to the end, you’ll have the opportunity to be with Stephenson when he dies, either witness his suffering or drive the nails into his hands and feet yourself.
It’s a clever quest, with layers upon layers of meaning for analytic players to dig up. When Rachel, Stephenson’s business manager, fears your questions are too deep and might make her court martyr doubt, she offers you a payout to walk away from him, inspiring many players to see a connection between V and Judas Iscariot, who sold Jesus for 30 silver coins. Stephenson’s direct connection to V also seems reminiscent of the way Christ called his disciples, simply asking them to drop everything and follow him. There is also plenty to untangle in Stephenson’s motivations here. Is he selfish, altruistic or both? Can an action we choose for ourselves be completely devoid of self-interest, since our choice to do it means we want to do it on some level?
“Sinnerman” is the rare quest in Cyberpunk 2077 that feels completely cooked. When I think of the hard work it takes to develop an idea beyond the superficial, I often think of the “How To Appreciate Wine” episode of How to with John Wilson. The series combines candid footage of real people doing humorous things on the streets of New York with the voiceover of comedian and filmmaker Wilson, who weaves a story designed to “teach” viewers a particular skill. I put “teach” in quotes because you don’t actually learn any skills from How to. Instead, you can see a very funny person tying a story together through extremely weak connections. For example, in the episode “How To Appreciate Wine,” Wilson makes the link that because people like older wines, he should talk to someone who appreciates old things. This leads the host to go to the apartment of a guy who collects old MREs. There Wilson and the man—to my deep-seated disgust—eat a Vietnam-era ration.
It’s a funny scene, but it’s also deeply thoughtful. No writer would immediately make a connection between wine and decades-old military rations. It feels like the result of a creator not going with their first, most obvious instinct and instead digging deeper until they find something completely original. Getting there takes effort and it also takes time. Like “How To Appreciate Wine,” “Sinnerman” feels like the result of a writer (or writers) thinking long and hard about the implications of the world they help create. His portrayal of the overlap between corporate greed and religious fanaticism feels deeply thought through, as does his understanding of how braindance technology would fit into that dynamic.
The strengths of “Sinnerman” emphasize the weaknesses of many of Cyberpunk 2077’s other quests. I also recently replayed “Epistrophy”, the quest in which Delamain, Night City’s AI-powered Uber equivalent, tasked V with tracking down of rogue self-driving cars scattered across the city’s disparate districts. This is a fun concept and allows the player to cleverly explore areas of Night City that they might otherwise ignore. But as good as the concept is, the execution feels half-baked at best. While some of these messages are interesting, a suicidal car memorably tells you, “Crimes hate vehicles. We don’t have moms.” – only a few stand out because of how sloppy they feel. In one, the car is voiced by GLaDOS actor Ellen McLain, who simply does her voice from Portal and reads lines that sound like they’re from Portal. There is even a cake reference. Another car for some reason hates plastic flamingos and wants you to kill them all. This message is just an excuse to have The Silence of the Lamb references in-game, with the car referring to you as Clarice and V and joking, “Have the flamingos stopped screaming?” In another quest, “Big In Japan,” a man rescuing V recites lines from The Office.
These moments feel less like CDPR making a tone choice and more like the studio desperately needing to generate as much content as quickly as possible. Cyberpunk 2077 is a massive game with tons of quests, side jobs, appearances, shards and more. A lot of written words were needed. As a result, it feels like the writers were looking for references as a way to wink at their players and, most importantly, fill a bucket. As CDPR is working on the first expansion of the game, I hope the writers of CP2077 have the time they need to do their job at a higher level. “Sinnerman” is the result when they have the time and resources to do so. Stale Office quotes are the result when they don’t.
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