You know, looking back at my time in Night City, there’s this persistent, tiny itch that never quite got scratched. I spent hours in that character creator, carefully sculpting the perfect V—choosing scars that told a story, picking cyberware that gleamed with promise, and styling hair that defied gravity. I envisioned this badass merc, a walking piece of art against the neon-soaked grime. And then... I spent the next hundred hours staring at a pair of floating hands. Sure, those hands did incredible things, but the person they belonged to felt like a ghost. That’s the core paradox of Cyberpunk 2077 for me: it built this fantastic playground for self-expression and then locked the door to the mirror. As we all wait, fingers crossed, for any scrap of news about Project Orion, the sequel, I keep circling back to one hope above all: please, let us see our characters live.
It wasn’t just me. The signs were there from the start, weren't they? Those early trailers promised something grand—fully animated, third-person cinematics where our V would interact, emote, and exist in the world alongside characters like Johnny Silverhand. It painted a picture of a perfect hybrid: the raw, intimate immersion of first-person for the action, paired with the cinematic payoff of seeing our creation in the story's pivotal moments. What we got was a strict, almost claustrophobic first-person perspective. Those promised scenes? Scrapped. We got glimpses in mirrors, reflections in windows, and the odd motorcycle ride. It felt like being promised a blockbuster starring your custom avatar and then being handed a helmet cam for the entire film.

And what a shame, because the tools they gave us were—and still are—so darn good! The character creation system, while maybe not the absolute most detailed on the market, is a powerful kit for crafting your personal cyberpunk fantasy. You’re not just picking a face; you’re deciding the legacy of chrome and flesh. Then, the game doubles down by scattering an insane wardrobe across Night City. From the trash-chic of the streets to the sleek corporate armor, every jacket, every pair of syn-leather pants, every glowing implant felt like it had a place. The Phantom Liberty expansion only added more incredible threads to hunt down. I’d find this gorgeous, reinforced armored coat with dynamic lighting, my inner fashionista would scream with joy... and then I’d realize the only person who’d ever appreciate it was the vendor I bought it from.
This, right here, is the cruel twist. The better the customization, the more the first-person-only view hurts. Every new piece of loot became a quiet reminder of what I was missing. It’s like collecting stunning paintings and only being allowed to look at the brushstrokes through a microscope. The game’s own strengths ended up highlighting its most frustrating limitation. You feel the absence of your character in every conversation, every quiet moment leaning against a bar. The world reacts to V, but V often feels like a disembodied voice.
Now, let’s talk about Project Orion. Adding a third-person perspective isn't just a checkbox feature; it's a fundamental design philosophy. It’s about respecting the player’s investment in their digital self. But—and this is a huge but—it has to be done right. We’ve all seen what happens when a third-person mode feels like an afterthought. Clunky animations, awkward camera clipping, a character that moves like a puppet rather than a person. Looking at some past RPGs, a poorly implemented third-person view can make a triple-A game feel janky and cheap in an instant.
So, my hope for the team at CD Projekt Red isn't just for a third-person toggle. It’s for a fully realized, first-class citizen of a perspective. Imagine:
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Seamless Transitions: Switching between first-person for precise shooting and third-person for exploration and style should be fluid.
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Top-Tier Animations: V needs to move with the same weight, style, and reactivity in third-person. Walking through Japantown should look as cool as it feels.
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Cinematic Integrity: Dialogues and story moments should leverage this new perspective to make our V feel present, reactive, and emotionally visible.
A proper third-person mode in Project Orion wouldn't just be a camera option; it would be the final piece of the immersion puzzle. It would validate all that time spent in character creation. It would make the hunt for gear genuinely thrilling. It would allow us to connect with our character on a deeper, more visual level. After the phenomenal comeback of Cyberpunk 2077, the sequel has the chance to learn from this one lingering shortcoming. Give us the full picture, CDPR. Let us finally see the legend we’re building in the heart of whatever new nightmare you’re crafting for us. The future should be seen, not just perceived through a narrow lens.