Dystopian, neon-drenched cities have formed the backbone of nearly every cyberpunk narrative ( perhaps too often) and I simply wouldn't be able to start my project without one. Things very nearly failed at the first hurdle. Two weeks later, I've managed to produce something resembling a cyberpunk experience within Fallout 4 - although the process was somewhat messy. I resolved to keep modding until I broke either the game, the computer, or myself. Unsurprisingly there's already a number of Cyberpunk 2077-themed mods available - but I wanted to see just how far I could push Fallout 4 to resemble the experience shown in the Cyberpunk 2077 gameplay demo videos, which meant looking at mechanics and even small details like the HUD. If you're looking to mod Cyberpunk into any game, Fallout 4 is a good pick: many of its assets already have a run-down techy feel, albeit perpetually stuck in the '50s rather than the '80s. Yet something far more radical had already entered my mind. As my editor later mentioned, I could have just bought Deus Ex.

I could have continued my media binge, but that's hard to maintain for eight months - and I was eager for some gameplay. So what was I to do with all that leftover cyberpunk energy? Yet as we all know, that release date is no longer happening, and Cyberpunk 2077 has been shunted back to September. It was all in anticipation of one game originally due to arrive in April: CD Projekt Red's Cyberpunk 2077. I'd even bought Neuromancer and added it to my pile of books I will definitely get around to reading. I'd finally watched Blade Runner for the first time, and was scrolling through galleries of the late Syd Mead's brilliant cityscapes. Grimes, La Roux and synthwave groups like Magic Sword had entered my music playlists. By early January, I'd noticed something strange was happening to me.

Fallout 4 radio mods not working