EA Joins In and Bandai's Dilemma
Across the Pacific Ocean, in San Mateo, California, Trip Hawkins, the founder and CEO of EA, a man exuding the aura of Silicon Valley elite, received David Lawson, the United States chairman of Sega, in his office.
"David, congratulations." Hawkins pointed to a fax on the table, the sales report for the first week in North America, "Two hundred and fifty thousand units. A very impressive number."
On his desk, besides the reports, there was a Genesis mainframe that had been disassembled in half. Several chips and circuit board components were neatly arranged, like an unfinished surgery.
David Lawson glanced at the mainframe, unsurprised. "Looks like you've already done the quality control for us."
"Just a habit." Hawkins leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Motorola 68000, a great CPU."
Our engineers love it. Come on, David, you didn't come here to talk about hardware."
"I'm here to offer a market even larger than the Amiga." Lawson sat up straight, his tone steady and firm. "We sold 250,000 consoles, and if you include Japan and Europe, that number reaches nearly 900,000. That means almost 900,000 households, and what they crave most in their living rooms right now is new games. And the sports games Nintendo can offer them are far more rudimentary than EA's."
When Hawkins heard the number nine hundred thousand, he raised his eyebrows slightly, but said nothing, signaling him to continue.
"I know you've talked to Nintendo, and I know the result. Exorbitant royalties, stringent censorship, they even forbid you from producing your own game cartridges," Lawson said, getting straight to the point. "In Nintendo's eyes, you're just a content provider. But in Sega, you're a partner."
"Partners?" Hawkins repeated the word, a playful smile curving his lips. "Tell me, how much sincerity is behind this 'partnership'?"
"There's no mandatory content censorship, as long as it doesn't violate the law. Lower royalties, more flexible cartridge production agreements." Lawson paused, then offered a bait tailor-made for EA. "This year is the Seoul Olympics. The whole world is focused on sports. And who is the best sports game company in United States? It's EA. Imagine an Olympic game under the EA Sports brand, a flagship title on the Genesis platform, promoted throughout the US and Japan, and we can jointly become the official video game sponsor of the Olympic Games. Think back to Los Angeles four years ago, when GG was plastered on the TV screens of viewers worldwide—how much brand awareness and sales that would bring us!"
Hawkins ' smile vanished, replaced by a businessman's calm and calculating demeanor. He understood perfectly what this meant: a brand-new, powerful platform; a user base already sizable; a partner willing to delegate authority; and a perfect entry point.
Porting EA's strength in PC sports games to Genesis requires minimal cost. Amiga
The shared architecture with Genesis can significantly shorten the development cycle.
"Having another platform is certainly a good thing for us," Hawkins finally spoke, his tone shifting from tentative to negotiating. "However, we need the full support of Sega's Marketing Department. I mean, top priority."
"Of course," Lawson responded immediately, "<EA Olympics>, or whatever you call it, will be featured in the same promotional space as our <Pokémon>."
Hawkins stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the California sunshine. He didn't think about it for long. The choice was too easy; so easy that refusing it would be foolish.
He turned around and extended his hand to David Lawson.
"It seems our engineers will have to work overtime. David, it's been a pleasure working with you."
Lawson grasped his hand firmly.
"Welcome, Tripp."
Bandai Headquarters, Tokyo, Japan.
Yamashina Makoto pushed the report in his hand to the center of the table. The paper slid across the smooth surface and stopped in front of Chuta Mitsunami. The sales report on the Sega Mega Drive and games was known to the executives present to varying degrees through different channels, but seeing this detailed internal document in person had a completely different impact.
"Speak up, everyone," Yamashina Makoto said, breaking the silence. He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his stomach, and glanced at each executive.
Mitsui Chuta picked up the report and looked at the figure of "global first-week total sales approaching 900,000 units" again. His Adam's apple bobbed. "Konami has confirmed it; Nakayama Hayao went there personally. The terms—are very generous."
"Generous?" The head of the Development Department was a middle-aged man with thinning hair. He looked distressed. "President, Vice President Mitsui, we know our own situation best. We're still figuring things out with FC development. What was the player feedback like for that Saint Seiya game last year? It almost shattered the company's phone lines. Now you want us to jump straight into MD? That's not developing a game, that's burning money."
A marketing manager next to him immediately retorted, "Burning money? There's a gold mine out there! Nine hundred thousand consoles! And it's growing rapidly! That number is almost catching up with the PC Engine's accumulated volume over six months. Are we hesitating now, letting Nintendo squeeze profits from the games we develop!"
"What are we supposed to bring in?" The Development Department spread his hands, his voice full of helplessness. "That ' Super Robot Grand Assembly!' game that Sega handed us six months ago? Folks, do you think we can develop that game ourselves? Sega did the framework, the engine, the core code—all they needed to do was fill in the robot and Gundam models. Our team's work, to put it bluntly, was just a reskin. The money that project made was more like labor fees from Sega than development profits!"
These blunt words elicited a series of suppressed coughs and awkward shifting sounds in the conference room.
Chuta Mitsunami tapped the table, drawing everyone's attention back. "You're right, it's a reskinning job. But," he picked up another financial document, "This 'labor fee,' after deducting copyright expenses, has a higher profit margin than any game we released with Nintendo last year. Sega's commission and manufacturing fees aren't high, and they even help amortize some of the copyright costs. And what about Nintendo? What's President Yamauchi's temper like? Everyone's still wearing those collars around their necks."
He paused, his tone becoming somewhat subtle. "And why would Sega offer such a mature framework to us?"
It's all because they've set their sights on the animation IPs held by Sunrise and Toei, with whom we have close ties. They have the technology, and we have "robots." Now that the Mega Drive platform has taken off, are we just going to cling to these lucrative "tokusatsu," "robots," and "Gundam" projects, continuing to drink only scraps from Nintendo's small pot?
These words stirred everyone's thoughts. Indeed, Bandai's core competitiveness has never been game development technology, but rather the vast array of anime and tokusatsu IPs that drive Japan teenagers wild. By sticking with the Famicom, they had to endure Nintendo's exploitation and hardware limitations, resulting in games that even their own team felt aggrieved by.
Yamashina Makoto had remained silent, simply listening. He finally sat up straight, his gaze falling on the Development Department.
Who was the person from Sega who came to discuss the "robot" project last time?
"He's President Nakayama's son, Nakayama Takuya," the Development Department replied immediately.
Did he mention at the time what else he could offer besides "skinning" the product?
The Development Department paused for a moment, then tried to recall, "He said that Sega has mature development kits and a technical support team that can assist us in solving problems at any time. He also said that if we wanted to do original content, they could even send engineers over to form a project team with us."
The meeting room fell silent again. Everyone understood the weight behind those words. This was no longer a simple third-party collaboration; it was almost like being taught how to walk step by step.
Yamashina Makoto tapped the table lightly with his knuckles, making a soft, tapping sound.
"Mitsui- san."
"Exist."
"Go and arrange a meeting with President Nakayama. No, I mean, with Nakayama Takuya," Yamashina Makoto decided. "Tell him that Bandai Drive platform. Also, ask if Bandai might be involved in their limited edition console."