I guess you could say I was one of the guinea pigs who gave Cyberpunk 2077 a shot when it first launched.
You could say it was a letdown, but that feels like an insult to letdowns. The game I'd been hyped for ages finally landed in my lap… and honestly, it felt like they forgot to finish it.
The bugs were everywhere. Missions wouldn't load, characters would get stuck in weird poses, and don't get me started on the police AI that seemed more like a glitch than an actual system. I gave it 67 hours, hoping it'd turn a corner, but in the end, I just hit the off button and never looked back. That is, until 2025 rolled around, and I found myself, for reasons I can't even explain, considering revisiting Night City.
Maybe it was the updates that I kept hearing about—people online were swearing by the improvements. Maybe it was the curiosity of seeing how the game had evolved. Or maybe, just maybe, I had run out of other things to play. Regardless, I went in blind, no expectations whatsoever. And just like that, something totally unexpected happened. The second I returned to Night City, everything fell into place.
This wasn't the city I'd abandoned years ago. It was alive. No, really, it was. The NPCs weren't just standing around anymore. They had a purpose. They were having conversations. I could catch bits of arguments, overhear gossip, or watch cars race through the streets like they actually had a destination. I don't know why, but I just stopped and stared for a while.
It felt like I was seeing the game the way it was always meant to be—like everything I'd hoped for in 2020 had finally been realized. The visuals were, well, stunning. Not in the generic "this looks good" way, but in the "details for days" way. I didn't even rush to the missions this time. I took my time wandering, letting the environment wrap around me.
I had no shame just stopping in the middle of the street to admire the view. The city had layers, depth, and beauty. Every corner, every alley felt like it had a story to tell. I could sense the atmosphere in a way I never did before. The reflections on the rain-soaked pavement were so sharp I half expected to see my reflection back. I'd never thought I'd say this about Cyberpunk, but I was genuinely impressed.
But as much as I was in awe of the visuals, it was the sense of connection with the world that really hit me. The character customization had been a throwaway moment in my first playthrough. I spent five minutes choosing V's background and jumping straight into the chaos.
But now? It felt different. I spent way more time deciding who V would be—what they stood for, what kind of decisions they would make. I picked the Nomad background this time, and the more I thought about it, the more it shaped how I approached the world. My character's story felt more personal, and it added an extra layer to everything I did.
Suddenly, the dialogue choices mattered more, and I found myself thinking about the impact of each one. I was helping a character in distress, but the situation was messy. I had to make a choice—help them, but at what cost? Would I risk everything for someone I barely knew? I remember thinking about my Nomad background, how trust and loyalty were central to that life, and how that would affect V's decision.
The fact that my choices now carried that kind of weight was something I hadn't felt before. The more I played, the more invested I became in V's relationships and decisions. The side characters, once background noise, now had depth. I found myself rooting for them, getting attached to their struggles, and feeling the weight of every interaction.
The new district felt like a whole new world, gritty and raw in ways that Night City itself had lost. Dogtown was a crime haven, yet there was something about it that made me want to dive in. At first, I thought combat would still feel as janky as it had when I first played. But wowza, I was wrong. The fluidity of the movement surprised me.
I was zipping between covers, sliding around corners, and dodging bullets with a newfound grace. I could feel the difference in combat, like I wasn't just dodging and hitting but really in control. Thanks to the improved movement systems and my build, I was zipping around like I owned the place, and every hit and shot had a real weight to it. I didn't realize it at first, but it was as if the whole game had unlocked a new dimension of freedom.
The ability to tweak your combat style based on your cyberware and skill choices felt like the key to making combat really your own. I picked a stealthy approach—moving swiftly with quickhacks and a silenced pistol—and it was exactly the kind of gameplay I wanted. But even if I had wanted to go in guns blazing, I could have. I could've built a tank of a character with electric fists, charging into fights and shocking my enemies into submission.
The choice was mine. I'll fess up; I got lost in this for hours. I spent so much time experimenting with new weapons, trying out different cyberware mods, and testing my combat abilities. The variety of weapons in Cyberpunk is something that deserves a mention. One minute, I was swinging a katana like a pro; the next, I was lining up shots with my rifle.
The satisfaction that came from pulling off a perfect kill never got old. But what really blew me away was the level of detail in the combat itself. Every shot, every swing, felt weighty and purposeful. In fact, every swing of the katana was like a release, cutting through enemies and any sense of calm I had left.
The fluidity was there, and I could feel myself getting better at it the longer I played. Even the mods played a huge role in changing how I experienced the game. I hadn't really dabbled in them the first time around, but this time, I dove deep into the modding community's creations.
I found myself experimenting with some of the wildest mods. I'll admit, I got a little obsessed with the V Feethand mod. This is hands down (or should I say feet down?) one of the funniest yet best things I've ever experienced in Cyberpunk 2077. So, if you've ever wanted to see V swap her hands for feet—yes, it's exactly as ridiculous as it sounds.
I threw this mod into my game, mostly because I knew it would be a laugh, and good grief, was it. First, I hopped into a car, and V's feet were now responsible for steering. Get this: V's feet on the wheel, trying to steer through the neon-lit chaos of Night City. It was a complete disaster. I couldn't focus on the road for more than five seconds without cracking up.
I ended up swerving into everything, like a drunk driver who somehow got their feet behind the wheel instead of their hands. Then, I decided to see how she handled combat with her feet. Let me tell you, trying to shoot with feet is a whole new level of chaos. V would awkwardly raise her feet to aim, missing every shot by miles and kicking random things out of the way instead.
At some point, I stopped trying to shoot properly and just let her go wild. Imagine V also trying to pick up a weapon with her feet, open a door, or talk to NPCs. Every single time, I'd get this hilarious, bizarre visual of her fumbling around like she was in a slapstick comedy. It was like I was playing the role of a cyborg who was just not prepared for the job at hand—literally.
It's totally absurd, but honestly, it made Cyberpunk 2077 ten times more fun for me. But even with all these improvements, there's still a hate train that follows Cyberpunk 2077 around, even in 2025. People still call it unfinished, still point to the bugs, the glitches, and the past mistakes, and some can't get past the reputation it built for itself. The launch was rough, and you can't just forget that.
But for me, in 2025, Cyberpunk 2077 is no longer the game I walked away from in 2020. Looking back, I never thought I'd be here saying this, but I'm glad I gave Cyberpunk 2077 another shot. The game I abandoned has become one of my favorites.
If you had told me in 2020 that I'd be singing its praises in 2025, I would have laughed. But here we are. Cyberpunk 2077 is a world worth revisiting, and I'm here to stay.