Went on and helped a cop in distress. The goody two shoes, that I am. Poor bastard was being harrassed by three gangers in a sunny alleyway. The big sneak that I am, I hide behind a corner about five meters from the culprits, crouch and aim my silenced pistol at the head of a ganger. Poof, and he's gone. Such is life in Night City. One minute you're all cheer and heeey, let's bully a cop, the day couldn't be better, and then you're not, you cease to exist and some rugged sneak thief will loot your corpse.
The other two are clueless as to where the bullet came and start looking behind the barrles next to them, and then, I swear, they try to look if the culprit's behind sand grains on the ground. It's true. I could be there too. The cop still looks very sad and defamed. He's given up on life. I can not shoot any homeless people anymore, he must be thinking. I can not jack off to all those tranny advertisements alone in my shitty apartment anymore, he must be thinking. He just isn't "with us" anymore.
Once I poof the second of the three gangers, the last one finally understand that the bullets aren't coming from amongst the sand under his feet. He approaches the corner, he approaches me. I back off a few steps and wait until once he comes round the corner in front of me. He stares at me doing nothing for five seconds, and then I blast him in the head twice with a shotgun.
Nobody around cares. Nobody has flinched and nobody has calld the cops. And the cop I was supposed to be helping. You know, the one not "with us", is lietrally not with us anymore, he has vanished into thin air. So much for any thank you's. Not even a nod. Such is life in Night City. Good deeds pay no bills. But there's a silver lining. One of the gangers sport a fancy revolver, which I eloquently pocket. And I also attach a silencer and some holographic sights to it.
Later on Judy reveals to me that Evely might be in Clouds sucking some poor bastards dick. So I go on to check out. At the joint, a fuck doll freaks out at me for saying the safetyword after her behavioral chip makes her talk some bedroom philosophies, but she's not angry enough not to point to Ev's booth where some apparently very unprofessional coppers have left some surveillance footage. It reveals that the poor bird got an epilectic seizure. Good thing for her customer, she didn't have anything in her mouth. A colourful set of encounters lead me to some confused fag who then leads me to the joints manager. Aptly named Woodman.
Woodman is a cheerful chap who has sold the spastic little bird to a queery ripperdoc, to whom me and Judy head right away. The place smells like piss just like my now several days unwashed underpants and the guy who's supposed to be a doc, smells even worse. But I can sympathise with the dude. I for nothing else than to piss Judy off (and she
is pissed). He has no reason to lie. And he then tells me that he, in turn, has sold Ev to a fixer. Poor bird gets thrown around like a bag of potatoes. Speaking of which... ah, but never mind that.
Like two master detectives that we are (it's almost like there was a yellow ball of kindness and helpfulness to always lead us exactly where we need to be, a guardian angle of sorts), we find out the fixer has some dealings with underground snuff porn ring, and that our little bird must be there. Bring on V, the master infiltrator and in no time I'm in the fenced courtyard of the facility.
Strange things happen. That's Night City. I'm crouched behind a container with my fancy new revolver and am aiming at the back of the head of a guard. Well, "guard" is a word too fancy for this guy, but anyway. Inspite of working fine just an hour ago, the silencer suddenly decides that now's not the time to be silent. The "guards" head disappears with a loud bang. It is my luck that the other "guards" at the courtyard - about five of them and the closest at the other side of the container - don't hear too well and nobody's alerted. But Judy does hear (bet she can hear a fly buzzing from 100 meters away) and decides to call me. There must've been some echoing too because she heard many shots, I only heard the one I shot, and the "guards" heard nothing at all. They don't even see their headless buddy. Or they simply don't care, because there's no way I'm that lucky that I'm infiltrating a facility full of deaf
and blind "guards". But you never know what's going to happen. That's Night City.
I decide not to take anymore risks and go full stealth operator on the dudes with my bare hands. And soon enough, the courtyard and the first and second floors of the facility contain no other life than me. Jesus fuck, I'm good! I find a staircase going underground and Judy, who has just arrived after I did all the dirty work, wants me to guide her through the underground levels. She wants that, but still decides that standing in the stairs looking confused is what she
should do. Pfft, women. I take a tactical break trying to figure out whether she actually wants to come with me or if the stairs are more interesting.
What I learn is that all snuff film makers are deaf and severely myopic. And so it happens, that I do not need to dirty my hands anymore, nor do I need a silencer. Fuck silencers. Only dicks and assholes use silencers. True infiltration connoisseurs shoot people as loudly as possible and still remain unseen. But hey, that's Night City.
So Judy eventually did decide to follow me to the underground and after some very loud sneaking, we find our little bird all plucked and nearly roasted. She’s hooked into a contraption and we need to unplug her and the thingamajick simultaneously. She starts counting. I patiently wait for her command to pull for a few seconds, but then I panick and scream NOW! Judy has the reflexes of a snake, and the birdie can grow a new set of feathers yet. And then it falls on me to carry her out. After getting to the elevator Judy fixed, I must've gotten a delirium episode, since I can't remember anything about the trip to her apartment, but
Keahnny Silvercock teaches me to smoke on a cosy balcony, so that’s an epiphany of sorts. Never too young to start. What a fox, that one.
The coffin nails probably scramble with my brain even more, because I suddenly find myself desperately asking questions from an uncoscious girl and poking her while also talking to my head friend. Judy wants me to watch some braindances she found from the facility. Why would she want me to watch more snuff? What a silly lass.
Our handsome little infiltrator.
Impressions:
The more I play the more apparent it gets that this game is far away from finished. And not only due to the technical hiccups, which I've had next to none in my ~20 hours.
I did some tryouts with the other two intros and it does seem that in accordnance to what follows, the game is developed mainly with a streetkid in mind, because that is what you become after the very short and seemingly inconsequential intros. Thematically and narratively speaking it is kind of the only one that "really" fits with the story. And corpo, which I am playing, is the worst fit since there's nothing to remind me of it aside from a handful of - also seemingly incosequential and largely flavorpurposed - dialog options. I dunno, maybe there is something in the long run, but so far... there is nothing reminding me that I was a corpo, aside from the afore mentioned.
At this stage, it almost seems that the game is at its best when not taken too seriously (inspite that it tries so very hard to be serious), which is a bit sad, all things considered. The setting is ripe with potential for a lot, lot more. And it's doubly sad because the "not taking it seriously" part is completely due to the gameplay, the writing part is just fine for a videogame. This could all be fixed of course, at least to some degree. But will it?