It starts with a simple phone call and ends with a hammer and nails. Honestly, few moments in modern gaming have ever managed to be as deeply uncomfortable, spiritually taxing, or narratively bold as the They Won't Go When I Go Cyberpunk side quest. You think you’re just playing another "merc for hire" mission in Night City, but then you’re suddenly face-to-face with the concept of divine salvation in a world that has traded its soul for chrome.
Most people remember the first time they met Joshua Stephenson. He isn’t your typical Night City psycho. He’s a convicted murderer who has found God in the most corporate-controlled corner of the planet. And he wants you there for his final act. It’s messy. It’s loud. It’s strangely quiet.
Why the Sinnerman Questline Sticks With You
You can't talk about They Won't Go When I Go Cyberpunk without talking about its predecessor, Sinnerman. It begins with a hit job. Bill Jablonsky wants revenge for his wife’s murder, and he’s hired you to help him take down the transport carrying the killer. But things go sideways immediately. Jablonsky gets smoked by the NCPD, and suddenly you’re left standing there with Joshua, a man who seems more interested in your spiritual welfare than his own impending execution.
The transition from a high-speed chase to a quiet lunch in a suburban home is jarring. That’s the point. CD Projekt Red leans into the awkwardness. You sit there with a murderer and a corporate handler, Rachel, who views Joshua’s "enlightenment" as nothing more than a marketing asset for a new Braindance. It’s gross. It makes your skin crawl because you realize that in Night City, even the most sacred human experience—martyrdom—is just another product to be sold to the masses.
The Braindance of the Century
The core of They Won't Go When I Go Cyberpunk revolves around the recording of a BD. Joshua believes that by recreating the crucifixion of Christ and dying on the cross himself, he can transmit his genuine feelings of repentance and divine love to anyone who watches. He wants the world to feel his sacrifice.
Rachel, the producer from Fourth Wall Studios, doesn’t care about the theology. She cares about the "tuning." She wants the emotions to be raw because raw emotions sell subscriptions. This is the ultimate Cyberpunk 2077 irony: a man trying to do something selfless while being used by a machine that is the definition of selfish.
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You have a choice. You can try to talk him out of it. You can tell him he’s crazy. Or you can encourage him. Your dialogue choices here actually matter for the outcome of the BD’s commercial success, though they don’t change the grim reality of Joshua's fate. If you challenge his faith and make him doubt, the final product is a "flop" because the emotions are tainted with hesitation. If you support him, the BD becomes a record-breaking sensation. It’s a cynical look at how the media consumes genuine human suffering.
The Walk to the Cross
When the time finally comes to head to the studio, the atmosphere shifts. The bright, neon lights of Night City feel further away, even though you’re right in the heart of it. The studio set is sterile. Cold. It’s a television set designed to look like a holy site, which only adds to the blasphemous feel of the whole endeavor.
Joshua asks you for one last favor. He wants you to be the one to nail him to the cross.
This is where many players hit a wall. It’s one thing to watch a cutscene; it’s another thing to have to press the button to drive the nails. The game doesn't let you off easy. You have to be present. You have to hear the hammer strikes. You have to watch his agony.
If you refuse, an NPC does it instead. But the weight of the moment remains. You are a witness to a man’s self-destruction in the name of a faith that the world around him has long since abandoned. It’s one of the few times in the game where your weapons don’t matter. Your Eddies don’t matter. You’re just a person in a room watching another person die for a dream.
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Fact-Checking the Religious Subtext
The title of the quest, They Won't Go When I Go, isn’t just a random string of words. It’s a direct reference to the Stevie Wonder song of the same name. If you look at the lyrics, they’re about leaving a world of sin and hypocrisy behind to find a higher place.
- Songwriter: Stevie Wonder and Yvonne Wright (1974).
- Theme: Spiritual transcendence and the rejection of a "lying" world.
- Connection: Joshua feels he is moving toward a truth that the corporate world cannot touch, even as they record his every heartbeat.
This isn’t the only time the game uses music titles for quests, but it’s perhaps the most literal. Joshua is going somewhere—mentally or spiritually—where the suits at Fourth Wall Studios can’t follow him. They get the recording; he gets (in his mind) the release.
Technical Outcomes and Rewards
Most people want to know: "What do I get out of this?" In true Night City fashion, the reward is somewhat hollow.
- The Payout: If you follow through and participate in the crucifixion, Rachel sends you a decent chunk of Eddies. It’s blood money, plain and simple.
- The Phone Call: Later in the game, Rachel will call you to tell you how the BD performed. If you encouraged Joshua’s fervor, she’s ecstatic because they’re making millions. If you sowed doubt, she screams at you for ruining their investment.
- The Emotional Toll: There is no "good" ending here. Joshua dies regardless. The only variable is whether he dies with conviction or with fear.
Navigating the Dialogue
If you're looking to maximize the payout (you monster), you need to lean into Joshua's delusions.
- When you're at the diner (Piez), don't take the money from Rachel to leave. Stay.
- Talk to Joshua’s sister and be respectful.
- In the car rides, ask him about his faith without being mocking.
- At the studio, agree to participate.
If you want to be the "moral" V, your options are limited. You can walk away at several points, but the crucifixion happens anyway. You just don't have to watch it. Taking Rachel’s bribe early on is the fastest way to end the quest, but you miss out on the most poignant writing in the entire game.
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The Cultural Impact of the Quest
When Cyberpunk 2077 launched, this quest was one of the most discussed segments of the game. Critics pointed to it as a rare example of a triple-A title tackling religion without being purely satirical. While the world of Night City is a satire of capitalism, Joshua’s struggle feels real.
Paweł Sasko, the Lead Quest Designer at CD Projekt Red, has spoken about how they wanted to push the boundaries of what players feel. They didn't want it to be a "fun" quest. They wanted it to be an experience that stays with you long after you turn off the console.
It forces the player to confront the "Cyberpunk" ethos. In a world where you can swap your eyes, your heart, and your limbs, what is left of the "human"? Joshua argues that the soul is the only thing that can't be digitized—yet he's literally trying to digitize his soul's final moment through a Braindance. It's a paradox that the game never tries to solve for you.
Actionable Takeaways for Your Playthrough
If you’re heading into They Won't Go When I Go Cyberpunk for the first time, or if you’re heading back in for a second run, here is how to handle it for the best narrative experience:
- Don't skip the dialogue: This isn't a "press X to win" mission. Listen to what Joshua says about the nature of his crime and his redemption. It makes the ending hit much harder.
- Watch the background: Pay attention to Rachel and the other corporate NPCs. Their reactions to Joshua's genuine pain tell you everything you need to know about the state of the world in 2077.
- Consider your V's perspective: Are you a nihilist who thinks this is all a joke? Or are you a V who is dying (due to the Relic) and looking for some kind of meaning in the end? Roleplaying your reaction makes the "crucifixion" choice feel more personal.
- Check your phone later: The follow-up call from Rachel is the true "ending" of the quest. It provides the final cynical twist that defines the Cyberpunk genre.
Ultimately, this quest isn't about saving a life. You can't save Joshua. He’s a dead man walking from the second you meet him. Instead, it's about witnessing the collision of ancient faith and future technology. It’s uncomfortable, it’s controversial, and it is arguably the best-written side content in the game.
Go into that studio with your eyes open. Just don't expect to feel good when you walk out. Night City doesn't do happy endings, especially not for saints or sinners.