Metal Gear Setting Collection
Amidst the busy work, May arrived quickly.
Metal Gear has been out for two weeks.
The first detailed sales and marketing feedback report was delivered to Nakayama Takuya's desk by his assistant.
The numbers themselves weren't bad, and the profits were considerable, but ultimately, the overwhelming, explosive growth that some in the Marketing Department had envisioned didn't materialize. It didn't, as some had hoped, unleash a sales storm that swept the market.
Compared to other action games released around the same time as PC Engine that emphasized vibrant colors and fast-paced gameplay, Metal Gear actually lagged slightly behind in terms of pure sales figures.
Inside the office, the employees who had read the report exchanged glances, a barely perceptible worry in their eyes.
Is this overly serious and innovative style really a bit ahead of its time?
Nakayama Takuya tapped lightly on the smooth cover of the report with his fingertips, his expression unusually calm.
His gaze swept over the most prominent sales curves, finally settling on two seemingly insignificant figures at the end of the report.
"Average game duration" and "second-hand cartridge circulation rate".
The former far surpassed all other games of the same period, reaching an astonishing figure.
The latter also ranked far below all other games released during the same period.
He looked up and glanced around at his subordinates in the office, some of whom were worried and some were puzzled.
A subtle smile curved at the corners of Nakayama Takuya's lips.
"This shows that the person who bought it is treating it as a treasure, not fast food."
As Nakayama Takuya had predicted, things turned out exactly as he had.
A player-organized "Metal Gear Content Discovery Movement" is quietly emerging in various fan clubs and players' private circles.
For them, passing the checkpoint was just the beginning.
The players' enthusiasm was channeled into a deeper exploration.
What secrets about their past are hidden in the witty dialogues between SolidSnake and BigBoss?
The game's metaphors about nuclear tweezers and Cold War mentality are analyzed one by one.
Background information inadvertently revealed by a seemingly insignificant NPC during Dentsu has been compiled into a lengthy background study by enthusiasts.
Some people, like archaeologists, studied each of Yoji Shinkawa's promotional illustrations one by one, trying to find clues that corroborated the game's plot from those powerful yet freehand brushstrokes and light and shadow.
A seemingly insignificant NPC's casual revelation of background information can spark a small-scale "research" craze among players.
This almost research-obsessed enthusiasm precisely validated Nakayama Takuya's initial strategic intentions.
What he wanted was this group of mature gamers who had become aesthetically fatigued from being fed fairy tales about "defeating the demon king and saving the world."
In the third week after its release, the cover of a mainstream gaming magazine featured the resolute-looking man depicted by Yoji Shinkawa.
It is ten pages long.
A feature article titled "A Lonely Poem Beneath the Steel: A Complete Narrative Interpretation of Metal Gear" integrates players' discoveries and speculations from various corners with the editorial team's in-depth reviews, forming a substantial cultural commentary.
Nakayama Takuya, holding the magazine that had just been handed out by the front desk, was about to go find Hideo Kojima.
As he passed the tea room, a familiar figure made him stop in his tracks.
Hideo Kojima stood there alone, his back to the door, his entire back appearing somewhat stiff.
His shoulders were trembling almost imperceptibly.
He saw that Hideo Kojima was clutching the same magazine tightly in his hand.
He didn't make a sound, he just watched quietly.
The world he painstakingly built, the thoughts buried deep within the code and pixels, were so profoundly understood and resonated with by the players. At this moment, the eyes of this incredibly resolute creator were slightly red.
An unprecedented sense of satisfaction enveloped him.
Nakayama Takuya walked very lightly, stopping behind Hideo Kojima without disturbing him. He could see that Kojima's knuckles were slightly white from gripping the magazine tightly, and the cover of the magazine was already crumpled from his grip.
The air was quiet for a moment, with only the ice maker working monotonously.
"Kojima -san."
Nakayama Takuya's voice broke the silence. Hideo Kojima's shoulders jolted, as if he had been jolted awake from a dream. He turned around hastily, trying to hide the tears in his eyes, his movements somewhat clumsy.
"Mr. Nakayama -sen--." His voice was a little hoarse.
Nakayama Takuya didn't offer congratulations or mention sales figures. He simply handed over the brand-new, crisp magazine he was holding, opened it to a page that contained the core of the feature article: a detailed analysis of the Metal Gear's design.
"They understood your story." Nakayama Takuya's tone was calm, yet like a pebble dropped into still water. "That's more important than any sales figure."
Hideo Kojima's gaze fell on the analysis chart, watching the players mark every detail he thought was deeply hidden with red arrows and annotations. He opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word; he simply nodded heavily, his eyes welling up with tears once more.
"The passion of players is a resource more precious than gold." Nakayama Takuya's fingertips traced the promotional illustration drawn by Yoji Shinkawa in the magazine, the man's eyes resolute yet weary. "After clearing the game, they were still eager for more; they longed to understand more, to touch the very bones of this world."
His gaze shifted from Hideo Kojima's face back to the pages of the magazine. An idea quickly took shape in his mind.
He looked at Hideo Kojima, his gaze sharpening.
"We've partnered with this magazine to launch a reader opinion poll in the next issue. We'll ask just one question: Would you like to own a set of Metal Gear's art book and OST cassette tape?"
Hideo Kojima's breathing stopped.
"If the response is enthusiastic, we'll compile everything—Shin-Kawa's original artwork, your design drafts, the game's background music—everything." Nakayama Takuya's voice wasn't loud, but it was filled with undeniable power. "We'll make it into a limited-edition, numbered, deluxe art book, along with an original soundtrack cassette. Printed on the finest paper, with a gold-stamped cover, it'll look like a beautiful collectible."
He paused for a moment, allowing Hideo Kojima to process the information.
"We're not just selling games, Kojima- san," Nakayama Takuya said, gazing at him intently, "We want to make 'playing games' something worth studying and collecting. We want to create a culture."
The moisture in Hideo Kojima's eyes had completely disappeared, replaced by a scorching light.
He seemed to see a completely new battlefield, a battlefield far larger than the one on the screen. His heart, that of a creator, was ignited once again.
"Culture..." he murmured, repeating the word over and over. His clenched fist slowly loosened, and his fingers traced SoidSnake's face on the magazine cover, his eyes filled with renewed fighting spirit.
They compiled those unseen behind-the-scenes efforts into a book and made it public.
For creators, this is the highest form of recognition and praise.
His eyes were practically overflowing with excitement; he nodded repeatedly, even becoming somewhat incoherent.
The next second, he almost immediately turned around, filled with a new sense of mission, and excitedly ran to the telephone, ready to contact the magazine himself.