Let me tell you, choombas, I've been slicing through Night City since the damn place was a glitchy mess back in 2020. I've seen it all, done it all. I've put the main quest with ol' Johnny Silverhand on ice for literal in-game months while I hustled, brawled, and romanced my way across every district. Time? Pfft. That was for suckers. The game gave you all the freedom in the world, a sandbox of chrome and sin where the only deadline was the one slowly eating your brain. But then, in 2026, CD Projekt Red dropped the Phantom Liberty expansion, and let me be crystal clear: they flipped the script, hardcore. They took that comforting illusion of infinite time, that safety net we all relied on, and they lit it on fire right in front of us. And the first victim? The President of the New United States of America. Talk about a power move!
President Myers' Expiration Date is NOT a Suggestion
Here's the scoop, fresh from the gutters of Dogtown. You get that fateful call from Songbird. The President's bird is going down, and you, V, are the only gonk crazy enough (or desperate enough) to help. In the base game, you'd take that quest, maybe hit up a few clothing vendors, complete a couple of NCPD hustles, maybe even finish a whole romance arc before finally deciding to show up. No biggie, right? Wrong. Dead wrong. In Phantom Liberty, if you pull that classic V move of "I'll get to it when I get to it," you are in for the rudest awakening since your first encounter with Adam Smasher.
As discovered by netrunners like Reddit user Coffee-and-puts, if you accept Songbird's plea but then ghost the rendezvous at the gates of Dogtown, you get the ultimate "Game Over" for the DLC's main story. The timeline plays out like a nightmare:
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Myers dies in the crash site. Militech troops find her, and it's game over for the prez.
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Songbird, in a fit of panic and betrayal, hacks your neural port. She doesn't just give you a headache; she flatlines your ass, choom.
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You wake up later, with a very pissed-off Johnny Silverhand ranting in your skull about how you dropped the ball. The President is dead, Songbird and Reed are ghosts, and the main questline is permanently locked. Kaput. Finished. See you in the next life.
You're left in a Dogtown that's still technically open for business—side gigs, shops, the whole shebang—but the heart of the expansion, the spy-thriller narrative, is gone. Poof. Your only option is to reload a save. It's brutal, it's unforgiving, and honestly? It's fucking brilliant from a narrative standpoint.
The Great Illusion: Why Your UI is Lying to You
This is the real mind-bender. Cyberpunk 2077 has always been messing with our sense of urgency. Look at your pause menu! You've got these big, scary percentage counters:
| Stat | What It Seems to Mean | What It Actually Means |
|---|---|---|
| Relic Malfunction | "HURRY UP, YOU'RE DYING!" | "Relax, it's a narrative device, not a timer." |
| Johnny Silverhand Relationship | "Make choices fast to influence him!" | "This changes based on key moments, not real-time." |
For years, we've been conditioned to ignore these fake deadlines. The game whispered, "Take your time, explore, live your best cyber-life." Phantom Liberty leans into that conditioning and then sucker-punches you. That initial mission, "Dog Eat Dog," isn't a suggestion; it's a demand. The numbers on your screen are meaningless, but the unseen clock ticking over Myers' head? That's the real deal. It's a masterclass in subverting player expectations. From a gameplay perspective, it's a bold, almost cruel, but undeniably smart inclusion. It makes the world feel alive and consequential in a way the base game only hinted at. Narratively, it's perfect—of course a stranded President wouldn't last long in the meat grinder of Dogtown!
A New Era of Consequences in 2026
Look, in 2026, games are getting smarter. We've seen titles like Dragon's Dogma 2 punish dawdling, but for Cyberpunk to do it? That's a paradigm shift. Phantom Liberty feels like CD Projekt Red's way of saying, "You wanted a mature, consequential RPG? Here you go." This isn't just a one-off gimmick. It sets the tone for the entire DLC. Your choices, your timing, they all carry weight. It makes every decision feel oh-so-nova and every mistake feel like a punch to the gut.
So, my advice to all you new edgerunners booting up Phantom Liberty in 2026? When Songbird calls, you haul ass. Forget the side hustle. Forget customizing your new ride. The President's life is on the line, and for once in Night City, time is the most valuable currency of all. Don't be a gonk and learn this lesson the hard way like I did. Trust me, staring at a "Mission Failed" screen because you wanted to shop for new pants is not a good look. It's a whole new level of immersive sim, and it's absolutely terrifying in the best way possible. Welcome to the big leagues, choomba. The training wheels are off.
