SFC Release Day (4,000 Words)

November 21, Tokyo.

Today is the official release date of the Nintendo Super Famicom (SFC) console.

Perhaps to avoid clashing with Akihito's Akihito ceremony on November 12, Nintendo ultimately chose this ordinary weekday.

One Wednesday.

Sega Headquarters.

Thump, thump.

There was a knock on the door of Nakayama Takuya's office.

"Enter."

The assistant strode in, placed a newly faxed report on the table, and spoke with a mixture of barely concealed excitement and confusion.

"Executive, the first on-site report from Akihabara. The situation is a bit strange."

"Read it to me." Takuya look up, his fingers rhythmically tapping the table, as if he were calculating something.

"Yes, queues have formed in front of major electronics stores, but the numbers are far fewer than the media had predicted. Our observers say that at Yodobashi Camera, there were even more reporters with cameras than customers in line."

Takuya stopped what he was doing.

He looked up, his face showing no surprise, but rather as if he were listening to a story whose ending he already knew.

"Anything else?"

The report also stated that most of those queuing were college students on leave and some freelancers. There were almost no office workers in suits.

Students are even more unusual. It's said that many schools and companies have issued strict orders in advance, forbidding anyone from going out to buy game consoles today, and those caught will be severely punished.

After the assistant finished speaking, he couldn't help but add, "Isn't Nintendo making a lot of noise but delivering little this time?"

"Have you forgotten?" Takuya finally looked up at him and explained, "When Dragon Quest III was released two years ago, wasn't that enough to give them a run for their money? Thousands of students skipped classes just to be the first to get their hands on the game cartridge. The news almost blew Nintendo and Enix away."

"Deans of students at universities and department heads at companies have probably already taken precautions to the core. Who would dare to let students and employees go out to buy game consoles on Wednesday? Wouldn't that be jeopardizing their own future?"

The assistant suddenly realized, then muttered with a hint of satisfaction, "Speaking of which, Sega always chooses weekends or holidays..."

Actually, there aren't that many problems. Clearly, in the eyes of those parents and teachers, our game is much more "violent" than Mario.

This remark made several people in the office laugh.

Yes, who would have thought that Sega, which is constantly touted by moralists, would be the most "considerate" in choosing a release date?

The one concerning social order.

This contrast is somewhat darkly humorous.

Nakayama Takuya stood up, walked to the window, and looked down at the bustling street below.

"Let them make a fuss. Yamauchi Haku is probably gloating over his first-day sales figures right now."

"We're not in a hurry."

Nakayama Takuya finished speaking, the atmosphere in the office relaxed considerably. The tension that had been building for days finally gave everyone a reason to let their guard down for a while.

Yes, no rush.

But they have no choice but to keep a close eye on Nintendo's actions.

A few days later, on Monday.

The latest market report was delivered to Nakayama Takuya's desk.

The Marketing Department's conference room was completely silent, all eyes fixed on the assistant's slightly stiff face.

The "Executive Assistant" swallowed hard, his voice a little drier than usual. "Nintendo has released official figures. From its release on Wednesday to Sunday, in just five days, total sales of the Super Famicom console have surpassed two million units."

"Hiss!"

Someone gasped, the sound particularly jarring in the quiet conference room.

Two million!

This number weighed heavily on the hearts of every Sega employee, like a boulder.

This means that even with weekday releases and various restrictions, Nintendo still managed to create a commercial miracle thanks to the "Mario" brand.

That's two million units! That's a sales volume that many game companies can't achieve in a lifetime, and Nintendo did it in just five days.

Nakayama Takuya picked up the report and calmly began to read it.

The cold, hard numbers on the page seemed to stir no emotion on his face.

He even had the leisure to pick up his teacup and blow on the floating tea leaves.

"Yamauchi Haku's victory celebration must have been quite a lively affair," he said casually.

A Marketing Department chief said worriedly, "Executive, this momentum is too strong. The user base accumulated by the FC is simply an inexhaustible gold mine. The name ' Mario ' alone is enough to make millions of players unconditionally open their wallets."

"So?" Takuya put down the report and looked around. "You guys think this is a bad thing?"

The crowd exchanged glances, no one daring to speak. Wasn't this a terrible thing?

"No, it's not that bad for us." Takuya tapped his finger lightly on the table. "They went all out and fired a brilliant opening shot. The media is celebrating, the shareholders are rejoicing, Yamauchi Haku himself probably thinks victory is in the bag. But then what?"

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the faces of each of his subordinates.

"Then comes the long wait. There are only a handful of launch titles, and even fewer major releases. These two million eager gamers will soon discover that their expensive new consoles don't actually offer much in terms of gameplay. Hunger is the best catalyst."

He changed the subject, turning to his assistant. "Where are our things? How's it going with GamePocket?"

The assistant was taken aback. "You mean... Kirby on GamePocket?"

"Yeah, how are sales?"

"The first week's sales were about 400,000 copies." Kobayashi's voice trailed off; this number was utterly insignificant compared to the Super Famicom's staggering two million.

"Four hundred thousand copies, that's pretty good. And this is a brand new game, not some sequel." Takuya nodded approvingly. He stood up, walked to his assistant, and patted him on the shoulder. "Do you think the people who bought the SFC and those who bought the GamePocket were the same group?"

"Nine out of ten people who buy the Super Famicom are hardcore Mario fans. But what about those who buy our Kirby?" Takuya coaxed. "Many of them are probably office workers looking to kill time on their commute."

Mentioning this, the assistant's expression immediately brightened, as if she were a different person. "That's true, especially for some women who don't play games much. Our Kirby is relatively simple and easy to pick up, and its style is also quite cute."

A slight smile played on Nakayama Takuya's lips, which eased the tense atmosphere in the meeting room slightly, but the heavy feeling weighing on his heart hadn't completely dissipated. The Marketing Department chief still had a furrowed brow. He adjusted his glasses and hesitated before speaking, "Executive Director, that's true, but Nintendo's momentum of two million units is truly terrifying. What I'm most worried about are the third-party developers. When they see this number, will they think the Super Famicom is the future, and then—and then they'll dump all their resources on it?"

The moment this question was asked, the atmosphere that Panasonic instantly froze again.

That's the most fatal flaw.

The Super Robot Wars have never been just a battle of hardware between two companies; they are also a contest of the entire game development ecosystem behind them.

Whoever can secure more third-party contracts will have a continuous stream of game lineups and will gain the upper hand.

Upon hearing Nakayama Takuya smiled.

He glanced around, noticing the identical worry on his subordinates' faces, and calmly asked, "What's the panic? He's selling two million units."

"So we have to lower prices and clear out our inventory? That was the old Sega, not the current Sega."

He held up two fingers.

"First of all, how do we make money now? Just by selling Mega Drive consoles and cartridges?"

"Don't forget, how much is the global licensing fee for Pokémon every quarter? How much is the monthly profit share from Bandai's Gundam models and Sunrise's anime merchandise? This money is our ammunition for fighting, it's our confidence. Does Nintendo have that? What does Yamauchi Haku have besides games?"

His question left everyone speechless.

Yes!

Sega today is no longer the Sega that struggled to survive with the help of its Arcade Division.

With Pokémon, a world-class IP goldmine, and the diversified development dimensions of Bandai and Sunrise, coupled with its timely withdrawal and overseas expansion before the economic bubble burst, Sega's financial situation is healthier than ever before.

"Secondly, and most importantly," Nakayama Takuya held up a second finger, looking at his assistant, "You tell everyone what the latest data is from Tom's side."

The assistant immediately straightened his back, his voice brimming with triumphant excitement. "Just received a fax from the North America branch..."

The sales of the Mega Drive (MD) this year remain very impressive; the total number of MD consoles installed worldwide has now officially surpassed 30 million units!

"Bomb-11"

This number struck like a thunderbolt, exploding in everyone's mind.

Thirty million units!

What does this mean?

It's worth noting that in its previous life, despite its best efforts, MD only sold a little over 30 million units worldwide around 1994.

And now, in 1990 alone, this legendary number has already been reached!

"Thirty million units." Nakayama Takuya repeated, his voice not loud, but firm and resolute. "These thirty million units are our strongest fortress. Do you think the presidents of those third-party game companies are fools? Would they choose a market with thirty million players already waiting to be served, or a new platform with only a few launch titles and an uncertain future?"

"Besides, in what way are our development environment and technical support inferior to Nintendo's?"

"Yesterday I just reviewed the development materials we received from Koei with several game development team leaders. The current Super Famicom still requires game development in an assembly language environment, which is not an easy problem for many third-party developers with average capabilities to overcome."

He stood up, walked over to the Marketing Department section chief, and patted him on the shoulder.

"So, everyone can relax. Let Nintendo do its thing in Japan. We won't engage in a price war with them, we won't panic, and we'll focus on finishing the games we're currently developing."

The section chief adjusted his glasses, his furrowed brow not yet fully relaxed. "Executive Director, I understand what you mean. But the attitude of third-party developers is key. Take Capcom, for example; they used to be Nintendo's closest ally. Seeing the Super Famicom's sales figures, I'm worried they might—"

He didn't finish his sentence, but everyone in the conference room understood what he meant.

If all third parties turn against Sega, no matter how strong Sega fortress is, it will eventually be undermined.

"Capcom?" Nakayama Takuya laughed upon hearing this. "Tsujimoto Kenzo is a shrewd businessman, not a philanthropist. Do you think Yamauchi Haku's old 'third-party royalty' scheme can be used against them again?"

"Once bitten by a dog, it always learns its lesson. Besides, they've already tasted the benefits of the freedom and profits we've given them."

He paused, glanced around, and dropped a bombshell. "As far as I know, Capcom, like Koei, only received the development kits after the official release of the Super Famicom. Do you think this is the treatment an ally should receive?"

A suppressed gasp filled the conference room.

They really didn't know about this!

Providing development kits only after release—what's the difference between this and a small, newly established company? Instead of trying to win them over, Nintendo is being so wary.

"So, who were the first to receive the development kits?" the assistant couldn't help but ask.

"Of course, it's Nintendo's most loyal partners." Nakayama Takuya's lips curled into a playful smile. "For example, Enix."

Enix!

Upon hearing this name, everyone's hearts skipped a beat, followed by a moment of understanding.

"Enix is probably currently organizing its top programmers, working day and night to overcome the development challenges of the SFC, striving for their next generation of Dragon Quest." Takuya slowly returned to his seat and sat down. "Assembly language, huh? I can almost see those Enix programmers' hair thinning over the next two years."

"Pfft-"

Someone couldn't help but laugh.

The laughter seemed contagious, instantly dispelling the tense atmosphere in the conference room, and many people joined in the laughter.

The term "chief executive officer" is harsh, but it's incredibly apt.

"So, this creates a very interesting situation." Takuya pointed a finger in the air. "No matter how fun Super Mario World is, it's still limited by the number of levels, and everyone eventually has to finish it. And the next game that can truly carry the franchise, Dragon Quest, won't be released for another year or two at the earliest."

"So here's the question," he said, his gaze sweeping over everyone, "What else can these two million Super Famicom players play after they've played Mario to death?"

"Can they go back to playing the NES?"

"No, that's impossible." Takuya answered the question himself, his tone carrying a mischievous glee. "Having experienced 16..."

After seeing the graphics and music of the 8-bit machine, in their eyes, it went from being a "darling" to a "yellow-faced woman."

"Old hag"?

The assistant was taken aback for a moment, then realized what was happening and smiled.

The others in the meeting room also wore expressions of wanting to laugh but not daring to, their shoulders trembling slightly.

That's a brilliant analogy!

"That's right." Nakayama Takuya leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "They can't go back. Holding the latest game console, but having no new games to play. That feeling is called 'game drought.'"

"And this hunger is our best opportunity."

He looked at the expressions of sudden realization on everyone's faces and nodded in satisfaction.

"Would Super Famicom players who never bought a Mega Drive before now be thinking: 'Since we're both 16-bit consoles, why not try Sega's next door?'"

"Our opportunity begins here." Nakayama Takuya stood up, walked to the whiteboard, and picked up a pen.

"Therefore, Marketing Department, I need you to estimate the window of opportunity when there's a lack of games for the Super Famicom and immediately devise a promotional plan for an older Mega Drive game."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop in the entire conference room.

"Let's use some excellent older games from the last two years on the Mega Drive to give Nintendo a break!"