"Let me 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 name: this is absolutely the world's number-one first-person game!"
"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 time went on, more and more people began posting content about the game online.
Some people were born photographers. Mesmerized by the neon-drenched scenery of Night City, they took photos everywhere inside the game.
Thanks to the game's incredibly powerful visual presentation, some screenshots reached a level that was virtually indistinguishable from reality.
People would even show off these images, claiming they had visited some 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 gamers lately: Night City.
Those curious people who had never played games 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 comments.
What kind of game is this?
Why are the reviews so all over the place?
Some people were running shops and businesses in it. Some had become 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 homepage, development hadn't stopped even after release.
Gamestar Electronic Entertainment quickly announced post-launch plans.
There would be no direct sequel for now, and no sequel project in development—but the current game would continue to receive substantial new content.
For the first three years after release, the game 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 times.
On top of that, Cyberpunk 2077 would receive a massive free update: an online mode.
Under these announcements, the comment sections were flooded with players begging for updates.
They shouted at Gamestar Electronic Entertainment 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 comments were chaotic and strange, with no clear pattern—leaving newcomers somewhat 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 game can satisfy every player. Some people will always dislike or be uninterested in a game, so a massively successful title will never truly reach 100%.
On the seventh day after release, the combined positive reviews from the Battle.net platform and home console platforms exceeded 300,000—and the number was still skyrocketing.
The sheer volume and growth rate of positive reviews were enough to convince the curious.
So many people liked it—this game must be worth trying.
At home, Oda Okita played Cyberpunk 2077, his eyes filled with admiration, longing, and a hint of despair.
A game on this scale. Such richness of detail. And so many technologies he still couldn't even comprehend.
To him, it was something to look up to.
He had spent many years struggling and surviving in the game development industry.
By now, he had accumulated a great deal of experience in industrialized game development.
Industrialized development had its advantages: it allowed teams to produce games that consistently met acceptable standards in the shortest possible time. Oda Okita was especially good at that.
But to create a game like Cyberpunk 2077, experience and industrialized workflows alone weren't enough.
Such a game was the crystallization of countless people's efforts—and it also required a figure with overwhelming authority to hold everything together.
In the entire game industry, only a handful of people possessed that kind of dominance.
And most of those people were concentrated in a single company: Gamestar Electronic Entertainment.
To someone like Oda Okita, Cyberpunk 2077 was like a treasure trove—one that game developers would struggle to fully uncover for a very long time.
Right now, he desperately wished for a chance to join Gamestar Electronic Entertainment.
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 game like this would be enough.
But in the end, he gave up on the idea.
Sometimes, 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 come to the game development 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 home.
It was a bonus that came 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."