"Let tell you—absolutely don’t play Cyberpunk 2077. Once you get into it, you won’t even know how the day passed. Before you realize it, you’ve spent an entire day wandering around Night City."
"I’m a hardcore first-person shooter fan, and I have to clear Cyberpunk 2077’s na: this is absolutely the world’s number-one first-person ga!"
"Bullshit! This isn’t a first-person shooter at all—this is a Night City simulator!"
"Nonsense! It’s clearly an underground tycoon simulator for Night City!"
"You’re all wrong. This is a brutal corporate-climber survival adventure in Night City."
On the day Cyberpunk 2077 was released, as ti went on, more and more people began posting content about the ga online.
So people were born photographers. srized by the neon-drenched scenery of Night City, they took photos everywhere inside the ga.
Thanks to the ga’s incredibly powerful visual presentation, so screenshots reached a level that was virtually indistinguishable from reality.
People would even show off these images, claiming they had visited so famous place and taken photos there, attracting curious onlookers who asked where it was and why it looked so cool.
Of course, in the end, everyone found out where it was.
It was the hottest check-in destination among gars lately: Night City.
Those curious people who had never played gas before would then turn on their computers or consoles to look up information and reviews about Cyberpunk 2077.
And then they’d stare in confusion at the bizarre mix of comnts.
What kind of ga is this?
Why are the reviews so all over the place?
So people were running shops and businesses in it. So had beco stock-market tycoons. Others had turned into elite special forces operatives.
It had everything imaginable—seemingly endless content waiting to be discovered.
They also noticed that on the Cyberpunk 2077 hopage, developnt hadn’t stopped even after release.
Gastar Electronic Entertainnt quickly announced post-launch plans.
There would be no direct sequel for now, and no sequel project in developnt—but the current ga would continue to receive substantial new content.
For the first three years after release, the ga would receive one major, high-quality expansion every year.
In addition, new playable identities would be added every six months.
Upcoming identities included cyberware doctors and taxi drivers, with other roles to be announced at appropriate tis.
On top of that, Cyberpunk 2077 would receive a massive free update: an online mode.
Under these announcents, the comnt sections were flooded with players begging for updates.
They shouted at Gastar Electronic Entertainnt not to rest and to hurry up and release those "delicious" expansions.
Even though most of them hadn’t finished the existing content yet, that didn’t stop them from eagerly anticipating future updates.
Although the comnts were chaotic and strange, with no clear pattern—leaving newcors sowhat baffled—the overwhelmingly positive reception was unmistakable.
A 99% positive rating.
That was the highest possible tier of "overwhelmingly positive."
Sure, 100% ratings exist, but no ga can satisfy every player. So people will always dislike or be uninterested in a ga, so a massively successful title will never truly reach 100%.
On the seventh day after release, the combined positive reviews from the Battle platform and ho console platforms exceeded 300,000—and the number was still skyrocketing.
The sheer volu and growth rate of positive reviews were enough to convince the curious.
So many people liked it—this ga must be worth trying.
At ho, Oda Okita played Cyberpunk 2077, his eyes filled with admiration, longing, and a hint of despair.
A ga on this scale. Such richness of detail. And so many technologies he still couldn’t even comprehend.
To him, it was sothing to look up to.
He had spent many years struggling and surviving in the ga developnt industry.
By now, he had accumulated a great deal of experience in industrialized ga developnt.
Industrialized developnt had its advantages: it allowed teams to produce gas that consistently t acceptable standards in the shortest possible ti. Oda Okita was especially good at that.
But to create a ga like Cyberpunk 2077, experience and industrialized workflows alone weren’t enough.
Such a ga was the crystallization of countless people’s efforts—and it also required a figure with overwhelming authority to hold everything together.
In the entire ga industry, only a handful of people possessed that kind of dominance.
And most of those people were concentrated in a single company: Gastar Electronic Entertainnt.
To soone like Oda Okita, Cyberpunk 2077 was like a treasure trove—one that ga developers would struggle to fully uncover for a very long ti.
Right now, he desperately wished for a chance to join Gastar Electronic Entertainnt.
Even if he had to start from scratch, even if he had to work as a low-level developer—it would be worth it.
Just being able to participate in the creation of a ga like this would be enough.
But in the end, he gave up on the idea.
Sotis, life and dreams inevitably clash.
Besides, he had already established a solid footing at Suri Electronics. Changing jobs so lightly wasn’t realistic.
After clearing Cyberpunk 2077 using the Street Kid identity, he had spent about ten days in total.
That happened to be exactly the length of the vacation Hayakawa Ueto had approved.
Tomorrow, he had to go back to work.
And tomorrow, Murakami Kazuo would likely co to the ga developnt division in person.
Oda Okita realized this might be an opportunity—a chance to move one step further.
For now, he turned his head toward a Cyberpunk 2077 poster lying not far away in his ho.
It was a bonus that ca with the physical edition he had bought.
He stood up, picked up the poster, taped it to the wall, and took out a marker.
His gaze grew firm, shining with the light of dreams.
Then he raised his hand and boldly wrote across the poster:
"This will be my lifelong goal.This is my dream."
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