The Olympics Come to a Close
In the president's office, the ashtray was already overflowing.
The young planner pressed the stop button on the video recorder.
The slight clicking sound from the videotape was the only noise in the room.
The president stubbed out his cigarette with his fat fingers, but his gaze never left the somewhat old Sharp television.
On the screen, Sega's logo and the Seoul Olympics emblem shone side by side.
When did you first notice it?
The president leaned back in his chair, his voice a little hoarse, making it hard to tell whether it was praise or fatigue.
"It started when I saw the qualifier 'non-sports' in their proposal."
The president nodded slowly, shifting his gaze from the report to the gray sky outside the window.
"Sega has been playing this game since the beginning of the year."
"They not only predicted the market, but to a certain extent, they are the market itself."
He picked up the market analysis report that the planner had rushed to finish overnight.
The report's title is simple, "Product Planning Adjustment Plan for the September 'Quiet Period'".
The president opened the report, and behind his thick glasses, a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes, which then dimmed.
He saw the planner's accurate analysis of Sega's dual-product strategy, as well as the helpless suggestion to postpone the release of the company's existing products and preserve cash flow.
This is undoubtedly the most rational, and the only, path forward.
"We'll do it your way."
The president closed the report and slumped heavily into his chair.
"You're in charge of keeping an eye on the market during this period."
"Yes, President."
The planner bowed deeply and turned to leave. He could feel the president's complex gaze, a mixture of admiration, helplessness, and a hint of expectation.
At the same time, in a typical Japanese-style apartment in Chiyoda Ward, another small-scale war is breaking out.
"Dad! Give me back the TV! My hero is off to fight the Demon King!"
Kenta, a sixth-grader, held a brand-new box of RPG cartridges and loudly protested against his father, who had taken over the television.
On television, an NHK presenter was enthusiastically introducing the Japan Olympic team's preparations.
The father didn't turn his head, his eyes glued to the screen.
"We can fight the Demon King anytime, but the Olympic Games only come once every four years! This is a momentous event to bring glory to our country!"
"But I've been waiting for a week!"
"Then let's wait another two weeks! Have some national pride, Kenta!"
The argument between the father and son grew louder and louder, threatening to escalate into a family crisis.
Just then, the mother, wearing an apron, came out of the kitchen carrying a fruit platter.
"Alright, alright, stop arguing."
She placed the fruit platter on the low table and offered a compromise.
"Kenta, didn't you say your new game console can play sports games? Since your dad really wants to watch the Olympic Games, how about we have a 'family sports day' together?"
Kenta's eyes lit up.
The father also thought the suggestion was good, as it would satisfy his own interest in sports and allow him to play with his son.
So, the RPG cartridge containing swords and magic was temporarily put aside, and in its place was a box with the Olympic rings printed on the cover of <EA Olympics>.
Soon, the living room was filled with the clunking of the clumsy controller and the shouts of the father and son as they raced through a virtual 100-meter sprint.
The Mega Drive (MD) game console became the only form of entertainment that the whole family could accept, amidst the Olympic fervor sweeping through their household.
On the streets of Akihabara, Olympic Games promotional flags were even more eye-catching than anime posters.
In a game specialty store, the owner was complaining bitterly to a third-party sales representative who had come to stock the store.
"Please, Waya, it's not that I don't want to help you, look."
The shop owner pointed to the shelf.
The most prominent and prominent spot was piled high with game cartridges for "EA Olympics" and "Sega New Record".
Meanwhile, games from other developers, including the new title by Waya, were relegated to an inconspicuous corner, covered with a faint layer of dust.
"Right now, apart from these two models, nobody asks about the others."
"Once the Olympic Games started, the number of young people shopping dropped by more than half; they all went home to watch TV."
Looking at the lifeless shelves, Waya could only sigh helplessly.
Almost simultaneously, at Sega's Sega of America branch, across the ocean, an exciting sales report was being sent back to headquarters in Japan via transoceanic fax.
The figures in the report are clear and compelling—by the time the Olympic Games began, sales of <EA Olympics> in North America were approaching one million copies.
Sega's Olympic strategy was a resounding success.
Of course, the market is never short of brave souls who dare to challenge themselves.
A little-known small company, defying all odds, forcibly released an action game called "Iron Fist" on September 20th, while the Olympic Games were in full swing.
They poured all of the company's limited promotional resources into it, buying several prime-time slots on television programs during the evening closing hours of the Olympic Games.
However, these guys were like pebbles thrown into the ocean, failing to even create a ripple.
A week later, a corner of an industry magazine published the game's sales figures, showing it sold less than 5,000 copies in its first week.
This number quickly became a cautionary tale on the desks of all company presidents, silently mocking the reckless and overconfident attempt to go against the tide.
As October approached and the Seoul Olympics was officially extinguished, the buzz surrounding the games in Tokyo remained undiminished.
The topic shifted from cheering for the national team to collectively criticizing some host countries for lacking sportsmanship.
The entertainment market, which had been suppressed for nearly two months by the Olympics, seemed to finally breathe a sigh of relief and begin to regain its vitality.
On this very day, in the top-floor conference room of Sega Headquarters.
After two months of negotiations and exchanges of legal documents, the final step has finally been reached.
Masatoshi Ito, president of Sunrise Animation, sat upright with his legal representatives.
Opposite him were Nakayama Hayao and his son, Hattori.
On the table, two thick share acquisition agreements were neatly arranged.
"President Ito, thank you for your hard work these past few days." Nakayama Hayao's voice was steady and powerful, carrying the unique aura of a corporate leader.
"President Nakayama, you're too kind," Masatoshi Ito replied with a smile. "Thanks to Sega's interest, although it's only 3%, the price Sega offered is very sincere."
This slightly teasing remark eased the serious business atmosphere in the meeting room considerably.
Takuya and said, "It's an honor for Sega to collaborate with an industry leader like Sunrise, and naturally, it's also an honor for me personally. I hope President Ito will continue to look after us in the future."
After a few polite exchanges, neither of them said anything more.
Under the guidance of their lawyer, Nakayama Atsuo and Masatoshi Ito signed their names on the agreement and affixed the company seal.
The two sides exchanged documents.
When Masatoshi Ito shook hands with Nakayama Hayao, it marked the official opening of Sunrise's doors to Sega.
Although it's only a mere three percent of the shares, this wedge has been firmly driven in.
After seeing off Masatoshi Ito and his entourage, only the Nakayama father and son remained in the conference room.
Nakayama Atsuo walked up to Takuya and reached out to straighten his slightly crooked tie.
"The first piece in this strategic move to undermine Bandai's foundation has been laid."
Nakayama Hayao turned his gaze to Director Hattori. "The real battle is about to begin. The two of you need to work together closely, and Hattori, you should also be involved more with Sunrise's Hattori."
Nakayama Takuya, the director of the Hattori, nodded solemnly.