The first rule of Cyberpunk 2077 is that nothing is fair, free, or totally illegal in Night City. You can catch a bullet for the crime of chewing your locust pizza too loudly, for intervening when an NCPD officer gives the local bum a shakedown, or for no reason at all if you're just that unlucky. It's a game where good people die bloody all the time and never see a lick of justice. What else do those gonks expect in a place like this?
Night City is teeming with, as Johnny puts it, "zapper dumples and filth." Now on my third playthrough, I've long viewed this proud, lawless dystopia as an unflinching mirror of its citizens, revealing humanity's deepest flaws and vestigial saving graces in the most confrontational way possible. In typical CD Projekt Red style, there's potential to be harnessed here – for better or worse – and it's all down to the choices you make. But while CDPR has revolutionized the open-world RPG twice in a decade, arguably turning replayability into an artform, I'd not considered one very specific reading: NC is full of bad people, but maybe the whole place is V's real enemy.
The notion has me reeling, reconsidering everything from ending preference to lifepath and more through the framework of a location being the true big bad. And maybe, looking ahead to The Witcher 4, this narrative can help us glean a little more from what's to come for Ciri.
Badder lands
Upon hearing The Witcher 4's game director Sebastian Kalemba state that "the main antagonist in Cyberpunk is the city," I did what any self-respecting fan would do and started a brand new playthrough – this time as a Nomad.
Not only is it the only lifepath I'd yet to try out, it also fits perfectly with CDPR's suggestion that the city itself is out to get V. Nomad V is an outsider in every way, putting the dusty plains of the Badlands in their rear-view mirror in favor of a brand new life in a world that's totally foreign to them. But Night City doesn't exactly welcome the ex-Bakker clansman with open arms as much as an iron fist. One klepped iguana, high-speed car chase, and new buddy later – Jackie Welles, how I'll always miss you – and V's had as warm a welcome Night City has to offer.
The Nomad lifepath's intro offers an altogether more forgiving initial perspective of NC compared to that of the savvy yet jaded Streetkid's gig gone wrong or ex-Corpo V's origin story. As an outsider looking in, the Nomad has little idea of what to expect – and that naivety, that trusting human nature yet to be ground out of us, is something this city preys upon. I carry this thought with me on my urban adventure, taking in the sights and sounds as if for the first time. Roleplaying as a wide-eyed newbie, it's all too easy to fall swiftly under Night City's spell. Dirty, loud, and chaotic as it is, this place has everything, everywhere, whenever you want it – a far cry from life on the open road. There's a transformative energy about it, the potential to become something else. Why come to NC if not to reinvent yourself?
Transformation nation
It's suddenly easier to see how a place facilitates the faults of its inhabitants.
But the more cruelties V encounters, the more this wonder turns to wariness. Eventually I start approaching every situation from the path of least interference, not feeling equipped with enough knowledge to make any grand, sweeping changes to a place I've yet to understand.
Liberate Clouds from the Tyger Claws and anger one of the most thuggish gangs in town? Yeah, maybe I'll just leave things to Maiko. Tell Mr Peralez that he and his wife are being watched, exploited, and mind-controlled by an unseen yet omnipotent cyberterrorist group? Not my business, sorry. With so many awful, underhanded things happening far and wide across Night City, it's suddenly easier to see how a place facilitates the faults of its inhabitants. It doesn't help that I have Johnny Silverhand yammering in my ear all about how NC runs on nothing but corporate greed, moral decay, and the commodification of humanity itself.
It all feeds into CDPR's penchant for crafting a sense of personality in some of the best open world games. But where does The Continent fit into this damning indictment of a sci-fi dystopia? Peel back the chrome, and it looks much the same. Witchering isn't all that dissimilar to being a solo, with both V and Geralt (and, soon, Ciri) taking on contracts as freelance mercs ever on the move across a vast, seemingly ungovernable space. The Continent might lack NC's skyscrapers and convenience stores, but both are feudal territories. Monarchs replace gangs in a constant fight for land, resources, and power, and there's very rarely a totally positive or negative outcome to a given decision. In many ways, Night City is just The Continent with a few more centuries tacked on. It's not hard to see how both can be cast as the villains in their own regard.
Where Geralt is a hardened monster-slayer with decades of experience under his belt, come The Witcher 4, Ciri will be much newer to the game – just like Nomad V. Sure, Ciri's not exactly a rookie, but I'm wondering if CDPR's interest in creating actively antagonistic worlds is set to persist, with The Continent pushing back even harder against the young witcher at every turn. I'll try not worry about it just yet. I'm having far too much fun trying to beat Night City at its own twisted game – and then I'll flee back to the Badlands with Panam for good.
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