That path was to continuously install powerful cybernetic implants into one's body, becoming stronger and stronger on a physical level.
The side effect, of course, was that the mind would gradually be eroded by those implants.
To be honest, the veteran player quite liked this kind of setting.
It perfectly highlighted the cold, ruthless nature of the world.
He even imagined what he would do if he were living in the world of Cyberpunk 2077.
In that world, he would inevitably become meat on the chopping block—there was no doubt about it.
But even meat had its dignity.
The veteran player felt that he would definitely choose to install all kinds of cyberware.
So what if he eventually became a cyberpsycho?
Then so be it. At least he would have shone once, even if it was only a brief, fleeting moment.
He felt that this was actually rather beautiful. A fleeting blaze of glory wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
Crunch.Crunch.
He chewed on his potato chips while watching the animation attentively.
At the beginning, the soldier slaughtered everything in sight—but he wasn't invincible.
There were always people who could deal with cyberpsychos.
And those people usually came in teams.
Their name was MaxTac—the Psycho Squad.
Every member of MaxTac was an elite combat specialist. They used powerful weapons and advanced technology to confront cyberpsychos.
They were also supported by top-tier medical resources that constantly stabilized their mental state, preventing them from being easily eroded by high technology and falling into cyberpsychosis themselves.
See? That was the gap.
Ordinary people who wanted to grow stronger had to install cyberware—and once they did, they risked slowly becoming cyberpsychos over time.
But people like MaxTac could enjoy resources handed down from the upper strata, ensuring their minds stayed intact.
Of course, even that had its limits—it all depended on how much the individual could endure.
In the game, Gamestar Electronic Entertainment had also created MaxTac as a playable background.
Players using the MaxTac background could experience gameplay similar to Sekiro—high difficulty, high skill demand.
MaxTac players usually faced the strongest enemies in the game, each one comparable to a mini-boss.
Some opponents were even absurdly powerful cyberpsychos capable of shaking entire buildings.
In the final boss sequence, MaxTac players didn't initially fight Adam Smasher.
Instead, they first had to face a former comrade—someone who had once fought alongside them, but finally couldn't endure the pressure and became a cyberpsycho in the final battle.
The protagonist was forced, in helpless resignation, to end their friend's life.
That sense of powerlessness was deeply moving.
The veteran player felt that this storyline was told with remarkable skill.
If this animation could reach even half the narrative strength of the game's story, it would already be more than enough.
The opening sequence ended. As expected, the cyberpsycho was subdued by MaxTac.
Then the image blurred, and a young, somewhat immature boy's voice could be heard.
The screen flashed—and a boy was shown lying on a couch, wildly gesturing at something.
The veteran player immediately understood.
Braindance!
Oh—nice.
This animation was really made with care. They even recreated the braindance system in the animation.
Very nice. Very nice indeed.
This was clearly an animation worth looking forward to.
The veteran player was now taking it seriously.
At this point, it already qualified as a high-quality production.
He felt he should pay closer attention.
"So awesome! This braindance is incredible!" the boy exclaimed excitedly. The action scenes inside the braindance had completely stunned him—it felt like personally experiencing someone else's life-and-death battle.
At the same time, a slightly smug voice came through the phone:"Heh heh, this is top-tier braindance. And I'm telling you—this one hasn't even been circulated yet. You're the very first one to try it!"
"It's amazing! I've never experienced anything like this before!"
"Really? Then I've got another one for you—this one's even better!"
"What? There's more?" The boy grew even more excited. "Hurry, hurry, let me see it!"
Immediately after, an adults-only scene appeared on screen, and the potato chips in the veteran player's hand dropped straight to the floor.
"Holy crap! It's that intense?!"
The veteran player was completely stunned.
The action scenes earlier had already been brutal and slightly bloody, and he had already suspected the animation would be rated 18+.
Now it seemed like it might even need to be bumped up to 20+.
That said, violent elements were fairly common. Even so, he thought it was understandable—and even felt that the animation was taking a bold risk.
Generally speaking, animations with such high age restrictions had a much narrower audience and many broadcasting limitations.
For example, on Tokyo Television, the afternoon broadcast slot was chosen precisely because viewership was lower, and overly sensitive adult content was blurred to ensure it could pass review.
Content review existed in every country—it was nothing unusual.
In the animation itself, those scenes only flashed by briefly. They weren't the core of the story—just a bit of seasoning.
Showing them right at the start was likely a warning to viewers: this was not a work for children. If kids insisted on watching, they should think twice.
Only then did the opening theme officially begin.
Hearing it again now, the veteran player suddenly felt that the animation carried a certain sense of absurdity.
Hmm. Now he was even more excited for what came next.
In the game, the veteran player's favorite background was MaxTac.
Because it was the hardest—and the most effective at testing a player's true skill.
According to records, fewer than one-tenth as many players cleared the game using the MaxTac background compared to other paths.
Most players were discouraged right at the tutorial stage.
Not everyone was willing to play high-difficulty games.
But the veteran player loved them.
His second favorite role was the braindance editor.
Braindance was another miraculous creation in the Cyberpunk 2077 world.
It was similar to VR in the real world, but it allowed users to experience videos or events on a mental level.
Joy, sorrow, pain, anger—as well as physical pain and pleasure—could all be felt directly through the mind.
These were the defining traits of braindance.
Sometimes, braindance was also used to investigate clues and gather intelligence.
Among all roles, city law enforcement officers used braindance the most, since they needed it to solve cases and untangle complex investigations.