Take it from me and my limited experiences in the subject: Waking up from a crumpled up position in a trash pile from chemically tainted rainwater isn't a fun way to return to the waking world. In my ever so humble opinion it falls just shy of taking a scythe to the neck by a sickly old man with a terminal inability to just tell you the bullshit you're entangled in.

Speaking of aching necks and bullshit entanglement, my first glimpse of Night City.

A dozen buildings reaching into the air was around me. Highways, roads and walkways woven between them. A gray, overcast sky. With a sickly drizzle of rain coming down. Enough neon to blind someone if it was placed too close together. From the shitty look of the buildings, the rundown look of the infrastructure and the smell of despair overwhelming the rank odor coming from my trash bag butt holder... I'm gonna guess I was somewhere in Watson.

Now, there was a long list of things that stuck me when I first sat up and glanced about.

I had a migraine.

My neck really, really hurt.

I felt like I hadn't eaten in days.

My clothes were both soaked and felt disgusting.

That fucking 'Pon Pon Shit' song was playing somewhere nearby.

I had a penis. I am adamantly certain that before I found myself in this situation, I did not have a penis.

That last one wasn't highest on my priorities, shocker. However if you read enough doujinshi or play enough video-games eventually the concept of a person's physical sex just doesn't register to you until someone gets obnoxious about it or you get horny.

My priority was the fact that I was in a place that I could not be in. I should not be in. The independent settlement of Night City, formerly of Nor-Cal in the NUSA.

I rubbed at my aching eyes, noticing and ignoring the fact that my skin wasn't the shade of tan I worked on and was instead a pasty pale.

I was genre savvy enough to recognize my primary problem and the 'oh-shit-fuck' it could mean.

I felt my achy, achy neck.

Shard slots, so yippee I had cyberware. Boo, the fact I felt like shit and there's no HUD in my eyes means whatever software I had was fucked. I was gonna need a ripper-doc, one that takes charity cases... So, if I don't find one Dr. Viktor Vektor, or somehow sneak into Dogtown for that charity clinic. I was shit outta luck until I got some cash.

I felt the nub of a shard in my neck. I quick press and the chip was blessedly ejected from the slot into my hand.

A finger sized chip. Colored black and silver, with some red in its center.

I almost expected something so important to be a shitload heavier.

Especially with the ominous red glow coming from it.

The symbol and label on the end of it kept me from denying what I was holding.

A fucking Arasaka Relic. I was a hundred and ten percent certain it was a two-point-oh model.

I just had to ask myself what was worse:

The idea that I had been isekai'd into the game of Cyberpunk 2077 with memory fuck ups and body dysphoria?

Or

The idea that I was an amalgamated personality from some smuck who managed to swipe a two-oh and died after plugging it in and now believe that I'm in a game world?

Both.

Both equally sucked ass.

Feeling the start of a journey that was gonna quickly go down the genocide route I lifted myself from where I'd been tossed to rot.

The constant struggle from stiffened stillness and joint cracking from movement made me weary that I'd been a corpse pre-awakening, but the lack of wounds led me to believe otherwise.

As I stood up and stretched, I tried in vain to recall everything I could bring to mind. Just letting my mind wander and pull whatever threads popped up.

I knew what a hawt dog tasted like: it was similar to the disappointment you feel when your drug addict little brother comes asking you for money again after you cut them off.

I remember the sweet smell of dew covered grass, flower pollen, and tree sap. So I've been somewhere with actual plants that don't need machinery to endure their environment.

I vividly recall attempting to fight someone with a sword, and then somehow losing a front tooth to a swipe when a dodge didn't go pretty. I had to take a moment to check. All my chompers were in place, and tasting faintly of copper. Either I had blood in my mouth recently or I had artificial teeth.

I could remember the American civil war, calculus, a small bit of Spanish, and way too many Simpsons quotes... So at least I have a high school education... I think. I could run for politics if nothin' else.

What really bothered me was that the personal details weren't coming to me. My name, where I lived, who my parents are, how old I was. None of it.

I could recall hobbies. I liked gaming, did some casual speedrunning, even tried my hand at game design once upon a time.

I could recall skills I'd learned, like how to hunt or make stir-fry, or sew a wound, or deliver a baby!

I could remember how to throw a punch, to take a punch, and even how to pull air into my guts for a huge burp!

I can't recall my friends.

I can't recall my family.

...

I could see several passerby pausing to watch the trash zombie that I'd become have a miniature panic attack.

I needed answers. Information. Data. Knowledge. The more I had the better I could put together the scale of fucked I was forced to deal with.

The growing in my stomach tweaked my priorities slightly.

So, my order of operations was decided.

Get food. Get Smart. Get fixed. Get Guns. Get money. Get Gear. Get more money. Get a better body. Get even more money. Find Mike Honey again. Try not to die from Night City Cyberpunk dystopian bullshit and die of old age.

…

I really hope this is the a goddamned isekai set up, because if this isn't the game world I'm not gonna know where to find a goddamned thing...