My third session of Cyberpunk 2077 concludes better. That’s because I opted for the honeytunnel over the blastwaste, though some of that blastwaste is pretty good. I’m enjoying the Regina Jones missions that require not being spotted, which is weird because I was just complaining about the stealth earlier. Well, the stealth doesn’t get easier, but thankfully a low int doesn’t bar me from good cyberdecks and I found myself a short cloaking field. My favourite tactic is an optical reset to disrupt overlapping lines of sight or to allow for a more reckless takedown.

Which brings up something odd. I have no clue what difference a lethal and nonlethal takedown makes, outside of securing mission targets. Npcs might also be marked as dead when you throw them in a dumpster, or so I think that’s the reason why that monk chided me despite cleanly neutralising all his captors.

Again, I have to hold off any substantiate thoughts about the heist in the name of time. At this rate I won’t be able to talk about this game’s narrative blow-by-blow, though this might be fine since the second act is this tidal wave of yellow quest markers. I felt overfed with the side content in Watson, and now I feel fit to burst. This game really centres the animal part of my brain, so I don’t think I’ll be able to finish it before my break ends. I still owe my RED table a well-prepared campaign.