There is a kind of genius in a video game (one that actually gets made, that is) whose entire design philosophy is "throw it in." 64 player co-op? Who the hell wanted that? Nobody, but it sounds like a good idea, so throw it in. The Blade Runner gun buffed to be powerful enough that it can kill helicopters? Throw it in. Blocking bullets with your sword or your minigun? Throw it in. People like research and RPG stats: throw them in. Wait, don't we need a plot? Sure, here's one: throw it in. Hey, I like werewolves, can we have werewolves as enemies? Sure, throw it in. Let's make the two factions cyber-knights and cyber-chinese/japanese. Sure, in it goes. People like hacking in cybergames, so let's have a hacking minigame even if it doesn't mesh with anything else.
But at the same time, this could have been exactly the kind of game that died of huffing its own farts, which has since the late 20th century been number one killer of french people. But it goes completely to the other extreme to the point where you can't even parody it, because it's a parody of itself without being lol randum or openly self-deprecating. By not attempting to be the slightest bit cultured or having any redeeming values, the game becomes a thing that, if games could be art, would be art. If Yoko Taro wasn't a hack, he would've had that play written about this game.