Of Course, You're High
- Liz Church
- Feb 4
- 2 min read
There’s a moment in Cyberpunk 2077 that hits you like a flashbang—and that’s the first time you become Johnny Silverhand.
In this week’s episode of The Corpo and Streetkid, Brian and I dove headfirst into that wild interlude where the game yanks the wheel from V’s hands and throws you straight into Johnny’s past.
It’s disorienting. Purposefully so.
We started by breaking down the cinematic genius behind that transition: the blue screen of death, the swirling tunnel of light, the thunderous doors—you don’t know what’s happening until Johnny is on stage, guitar slung over his shoulder, gun in hand, and fans screaming.
It’s chaotic and jarring, and yet everything is soaked in symbolism. That chaos? It’s Johnny to the core.
We analyzed Johnny’s now-iconic assault on Arasaka Tower. It's a gritty, full-throttle experience where explosions collide with ideology. I’ll admit—Brian and I spent far too long questioning the physics of that in-game “nuke.”
Was it truly a nuclear blast? The aftermath feels more symbolic than scientifically accurate. Maybe that’s the point. Johnny wasn’t aiming for realism—he was aiming for a legacy.
What captivated me, though, was how Johnny’s motives began to unravel. At first, it appears to be pure vengeance. The deeper you dig, the more you realize how much of his story is influenced by loss, grief, and a desperate belief in doing something that truly matters, even if it means becoming a martyr.
We also got into the enigma that is Saburo Arasaka. His interaction with Johnny is chilling—this calm, detached figure brushing off Johnny’s rebellion like an annoying breeze. He doesn’t even flinch at the destruction, and that’s more terrifying than any villain with a raised voice.
We met the entire cast of this wild ride—Kerry, Rogue, Spider Murphy, Adam Smasher, and the mysterious media Thompson.
This interlude may be brief in playtime, but it’s monumental in meaning. It's the spark that sets the entire game ablaze.
For me, it’s where the story stops being just about V and becomes something far deeper—something about memory, identity, and revolution.
