Looking back from 2026, it's pretty wild to think about the road we've traveled. If you'd told me back in 2020, when the launch of Cyberpunk 2077 felt like watching your favorite band have a disastrous gig, that we'd be here now... well, I wouldn't have believed you. But here I am, Maria Mazur, a quest designer who got to be part of the team that helped turn things around. For us at CD Projekt Red, the last few years weren't just about fixing bugs; they were about rebuilding trust, restructuring ourselves, and finally telling the stories we always wanted to tell in Night City.
The process of creating the Phantom Liberty expansion was, in many ways, a do-over. It was how we would have wanted to do Cyberpunk from the start. That meant big changes, not just to the game's combat and RPG mechanics, but to us as a studio. We restructured, forming this cool internal team with reps from every department—audio, environment art, narrative, you name it. Suddenly, everyone had a voice. When the audio specialist understands why a scene is tense, the music they create hits different, you know? It gave us all a real sense of ownership. Decisions bubbled up from the people doing the work, not just from the top down. That feeling, that collaborative spirit... that's something that's stuck with us for all our future projects.
With a more solid foundation, Phantom Liberty let us focus on what sometimes got lost in the initial chaos: the story. And boy, did we focus. We built this tight, spy-thriller narrative around two new characters: the stoic Solomon Reed and the enigmatic Song So Mi, or Songbird.
Writing them was a trip. They both lie to V. They both try to win V over. The DLC isn't just asking "Who do you trust?" It's kinda asking, "Whose lies are you okay with?" We played with taking away player agency and then giving it back, all leading to a finale where, sadly, someone has to lose. Let me tell you, figuring out who should lose was brutal. We had so many scenarios on the table! But the story needed that emotional punch. One of them had to go.
We also added this crucial, last-minute choice. Right at the spaceport finale, even if you'd pledged yourself to one side, we let you walk it back. Why? Because there's this massive truth bomb that drops about Songbird's motives and your own situation. It felt only fair to give players an out if that new info changed their minds. Personally? I could never betray Songbird. But it had to be there.
And that betrayal... oof, it's the only way to unlock the new ending for the base game. Which, in my totally unbiased opinion, is the most soul-crushing ending of them all. Ironic, right? After years of fans begging for a happier ending for V, we give them one where V gets cured... but loses everything else. The cyberware, the friends, the legend. Poof. Gone.
People ask me why we made the hardest-to-get ending the worst one. It wasn't some malicious plan to break players' hearts! It just... felt right for the story we were telling. If you locked all us narrative designers in a room, you'd get a million opinions. This was the one that emerged from the chaos. My personal favorite ending is still the Nomad one—riding off into the sunset with Panam. But in a sick way, I also love the Corpo ending. It's just so brutally Cyberpunk.
It wasn't all doom and gloom, though! We also got to flesh out the romance stories, which was a blast. When we saw how much players loved their virtual partners, we knew we had to add more. Started with more text messages. And hey, we noticed some of you were playing the field! Juggling Judy and River? Yeah, we saw you. Those extra dialogue options calling you out on your two-timing ways? One hundred percent intentional. That was my little contribution—I couldn't resist.
Our philosophy on romance has never been about hitting a quota. It's about: Who is this person? How do they connect to V? What's their story? That's why each romance in Cyberpunk feels unique—they're not copy-pasted. We wanted those connections to feel rich and real. And yes, before you ask, we heard the... enthusiastic requests for a Johnny Silverhand romance. Look, he's already in your head, so...! But seriously, if that was ever considered, it would've required a serious renegotiation with Keanu's contract. Some doors are best left closed.
Now, as of 2026, our work on Cyberpunk 2077 is done. The team has moved on to new worlds and new stories.
Phantom Liberty was my school. I learned everything about designing branching, player-driven experiences there. I look back at little things, like adding those repeatable romance hangouts to make Night City feel more alive. Or sneaking in that note called "Last 'ish'" near the end of the DLC—a tiny nod to the Yennefer romance in The Witcher 3. Because, come on, Team Yen for life. That is the right choice.
We learned so much. About storytelling. About collaboration. About listening. The Cyberpunk 2077 you can play today is a testament to that journey. It's found its place alongside The Witcher 3 in our legacy, which is something few of us dared dream of back at the start. Where we go next... well, that's a story for another time. But the lessons from Night City? They're coming with us.