Cyberpunk 2077: Phantom Liberty Review (ckrs)
Calling it a mere “expansion” is like calling a black hole a “mild inconvenience.”
Some expansions add a little extra content. A few new missions. Maybe a new gun. Then there’s Phantom Liberty. CDPR didn’t just make DLC—they descended from the heavens, placed their divine hands upon Cyberpunk 2077, and said, “Let there be peak.”
Dogtown isn’t just a new district; it’s an entirely different ecosystem where hope is an endangered species. The air is thick with corruption, betrayal, and the faint scent of burning rubber. It’s the kind of place where you could get mugged, kidnapped, and sold for parts—before breakfast.
I have spent more time in Dogtown than in my own real-life neighborhood. The place is pure, unfiltered cyberpunk grime, and I love every second of it.
Every mission had me questioning my morals. Every choice felt like it had the weight of the world behind it. I finished the expansion, stared at my screen in silence, then immediately restarted.
Vehicular combat – Finally, I can commit high-speed war crimes.
New cyberware system – I am no longer a person. I am a walking superweapon.
New weapons – There is a shotgun that turns enemies into a fine red mist. I cherish it more than most people cherish their pets.
Stealth? Better. Gunplay? Better. Hacking? So good that I’m considering a career in cybersecurity just to feel something similar in real life.
Between the world-class cinematics, insane attention to detail, and a soundtrack that makes my soul vibrate, Phantom Liberty isn’t just something you play—it’s something you experience. This expansion consumed my thoughts, my time, and possibly my chances at a stable social life.
Phantom Liberty took an already god-tier game and ascended it to an even higher plane of existence. If Cyberpunk 2077 is the Bible, then Phantom Liberty is the New Testament.