Channel War
With Nintendo and Sega both announcing their release dates on the same day, a ground war revolving around channels, retail, and advertising began the moment the announcements were made.
The intensity of the war exceeded the imagination of all bystanders.
Mori, a sales representative for Nintendo, was standing in a slightly crowded game store. His well-tailored suit seemed somewhat out of place in the cluttered environment around him.
The air was filled with the unique smell of old cardboard boxes and plastic, and the walls were covered with promotional posters for all sorts of games, some of which were slightly faded and curled at the edges. This place was the culmination of Wu You's hard work.
As a cog in the sophisticated war machine of the "First Heart Association," his mission is simple and clear.
"Good afternoon, Manager Takeda." Morisato wore a professional smile, as if he were simply visiting an old friend.
The shop owner, referred to as Takeda, a slightly overweight middle-aged man, quickly bowed slightly from behind the counter, his smile somewhat stiff. "Mr. Morisato, what brings you here?"
Takeda's heart pounded. The representatives from the First Heart Association never loitered around; their visits always meant the latest instructions from headquarters. Usually, it concerned the allocation of a certain blockbuster game, but today, he felt something was different.
Mori didn't answer immediately, his gaze sweeping around the small shop. His eyes lingered for half a second on an old the Legend of Zelda poster on the wall before finally settling behind the counter. There stood a small sign, handwritten in Mark: "MEGADRIVE Accepts Pre-orders".
A thin layer of sweat seeped from Takeda's back.
"Manager Takeda, you should have already received the official notification from headquarters." Mori's tone remained polite, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He gently placed a document on the counter and pushed it over.
The cover of the document prominently displays the words: "Super Mario Bros. 3 First Priority Sales Cooperation Contract".
Takeda didn't look at the documents; his entire attention was on Morisato's face. He tried to explain, "Mr. Morisato,"
That Sega brand is just "
"Manager Takeda," Morisato interrupted him, his voice low but carrying weight, "The First Heart Association is a big family, and Nintendo has always put the interests of all its partners first. Headquarters is taking the initial shipment of <Mario 3> very seriously and hopes to prioritize the needs of our most loyal partners."
The word "loyalty" was uttered softly by him, but it felt like two stones hitting Takeda's heart.
He understood what this meant, of course. The so-called "highest priority sales cooperation" was essentially "exclusive sales cooperation." Signing this document meant that his store could not display any promotional materials related to the MD console.
"But—but we're just a small shop, there are many roads—" Takeda's voice trailed off.
The smile on Mori's face finally vanished. He pointed at the contract with his finger. "Manager Takeda, there are many paths..."
But there's usually only one path to the future. You're a smart person.
After saying that, he fell silent and stood there quietly, waiting for Takeda's decision.
The shop was eerily quiet, save for the ticking of the old wall clock. Sweat beaded on Takeda's forehead. He glanced at the contract that would determine his business for the next few months, then at the reservation plaque he had personally written. The ink on the plaque was still fresh.
It was as if it were mocking his naiveté.
He just wanted to make more money. What did the war between Sega and Nintendo have to do with him, a small shop owner?
But now, war is right on his counter.
A few seconds later, Takeda let out a long, silent sigh. He looked up, forced a smile that looked more like a grimace at Mori, then silently turned around, reached out and took off the "MEGADRIVE Accepting Reservations" sign, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it into the trash can at his feet.
A smile returned to Mori's face, and he nodded in satisfaction.
"It's a pleasure doing business with you, Manager Takeda. Regarding the Mario 3 purchase, I will apply for the maximum allowance for you."
Carrots and big sticks.
This is the most classic and effective tactic. It once again proves that Nintendo's dominance is absolute in the battleground of distribution channels.
He left the small shop and headed for his next target, his heart filled with pride as an Imperial soldier.
However, this sense of pride encountered an unprecedented challenge when he stepped into the next store.
That was a "Pokémon Center".
Unlike the traditional game store we just visited, this place is bright, spacious, and full of modern style.
Adorable images of Pikachu, Charmander, and Squirtle can be seen everywhere, on the walls and shelves.
The children were excitedly exchanging Pokémon stickers in a specially designated area.
This doesn't feel like a game store; it's more like a trendy playground for young people.
Mori frowned. He noticed a prominent signboard displaying the Mega Drive console and a vibrant poster for Pokémon Adventure displayed at the store entrance.
He found the shop owner and repeated the same familiar story he had just told.
But this time, he was facing a young man wearing Pokémon employee uniform, with a gentle smile but a determined look in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Morisato."
The shop owner politely declined.
Mori was somewhat surprised. He emphasized his words, mentioning the "First Heart Association's" rules and the possibility of cutting off the supply of popular cartridges.
The shop owner's smile remained unchanged.
"Mr. Morisato, please look."
He didn't argue, but instead took out a photo album and opened it.
The album contains photos taken by the shop owner's son of a bustling weekend scene, where crowds packed the entire shop.
"Many of them weren't there specifically to buy games."
The shop owner pointed to the happy children and their parents in the photo.
"They come to exchange stickers, buy a T-shirt, a Pikachu toy, or just to soak up the atmosphere."
He then took out an account book and pushed it in front of Senli.
The data clearly shows that the sales of Pokémon- related merchandise and collaboration snacks have far exceeded the total sales of all Famicom game cartridges.
"The Pokémon brand has brought me a customer base of young families."
The shop owner's voice was sincere and forceful.
"If I refuse the Pokémon Adventure, I will lose more than just a game; I will lose the very foundation that supports my store's existence. This is Nintendo's loss, and it's irreparable."
For the first time, Nintendo's sphere of influence.
He looked at the innocent smiles on the children's faces and at the rows of adorable Pokémon.
He suddenly realized that Sega had quietly built a commercial barrier using the "Pokémon" IP.
Even Nintendo's iron fist couldn't easily break through this fortress.
Mori left the Pokémon Center in silence, all the confidence and pride he had shown when he arrived now gone.
He urgently reported the situation, and this report prompted a reassessment of the Pokémon IP's power and heightened vigilance within Nintendo's Marketing Department.
The war quickly spread to a wider area.
A fierce battle for market share is unfolding within the convenience store network.
FamilyMart, deeply intertwined with Pokémon, have shelves overflowing with Mega Drive promotional materials and various co-branded snacks, making it Sega's most solid stronghold.
At 7-Eleven, Sega's representative symbolically raised the agency price a few times before "generously" backing down, allowing Nintendo to secure the exclusive sales rights at a price far exceeding expectations.
As for Lawson, its supplier Mitsubishi Corporation is an important member of the "First Heart Association), making it a natural territory for Nintendo.
On the surface, Nintendo has won over two major convenience store chains, achieving an overwhelming victory.
But only those in the Finance Department, looking at those huge-expense cooperation agreements, feel a sense of unease.
In large department stores like Seibu Department Store and Toys "R" Us, Nintendo launched an undisguised financial offensive.
A giant poster featuring Tanooki Mario almost completely covered the exterior wall of the mall.
At the mall entrance, staff dressed as Mario and Luigi costumes tirelessly handed out flyers.
Faced with Sega's bid, Nintendo's regional manager made a bold statement.
"No matter how much they pay, we'll earn 10,000 Japanese yen more than them every day!"
However, each time, Sega would simply raise the price to an astonishingly high level and then quietly back down.
While Nintendo's sales staff celebrated yet another "victory," they also privately mocked Sega for being "all bark and no bite, lacking sufficient funds."
It's late at night.
Inside Nintendo Headquarters building, the light was still on in one of the offices.
A junior market analyst is compiling promotional reports from all over the country.
His name is Maeda, a young man who has just joined the company and is meticulous in his work.
He compared the data line by line, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper.
In key cities like Osaka, Nagoya, and Fukuoka, Sega's investment in Game of Thrones, while not as large as Nintendo's, was precise in its targeting and aggressive in its offensive. The two sides traded blows and fought fiercely.
Only in Tokyo.
In the capital region, which has the highest media exposure and the strongest symbolic significance, Sega's actions are almost negligible.
Aside from raising the price of GG slots a few times in the early stages, the promotion completely stalled afterward. Only natural Sega strongholds like Pokémon Center and traditional Sega allies like East Card were able to release promotional materials, but the intensity of the promotion was far less than in other places.
This doesn't make sense.
Maeda felt a strange unease, and he wrote this concern in bold in the footnote of the report.
The report was returned the next day.
His supervisor added a line of text in red ink next to the footnote.
"The enemy is afraid to fight and lacks funds; this is a sign of a great victory, and there is no need to worry."
Maeda looked at the spirited words, his unease grew stronger.
This doesn't feel like a retreat; it feels more like a strange vacuum.
He had a feeling that Sega hadn't abandoned Tokyo because of a lack of funds.
They appear to be passively enduring Nintendo's saturation attack, but in reality, they may be concentrating all their resources on a hidden, fatal point.