A Two-Pronged Approach

Director Takahashi's words seemed to suck all the air out of the room.

The once bustling Development Department fell silent instantly. The smiles on everyone's faces froze, and exhaustion and confusion returned.

Their proud achievements, the code and pixels earned through countless sleepless nights, now flicker on the screen, yet seem to be a silent mockery.

"Why?" a young programmer murmured, his voice trembling with tears, "We did so well..."

"Yes, won't it be listed in the first half of the year?"

2

"Can't we play in the arcades? Then all our work for the past six months has been for nothing?"

Doubts and despair began to spread, and the team's morale plummeted.

"Because Hollywood only started filming ' Hook ' this month, and the release won't be until at least Thanksgiving at the end of the year," Director Takahashi revealed the key point. "At the end of the year, our own ' Metal Slug ' is expected to be released with the brand-new System32 motherboard. If we release ' Hook ' on System16 at the same time, the contrast will be too obvious."

Now everyone understood. They were the elite of technology, and of course they knew how huge the difference in graphics between the two generations of motherboards was.

That would be an absolute disaster.

Ono's face turned pale instantly. His lips moved, but he couldn't utter a single word.

As the project leader, he felt the blow was heavier than anyone else's.

Seeing the faces drained of color from everyone, Director Takahashi felt a pang of pity, but he forced himself to continue, "However, everyone's hard work won't be in vain. Executive Director Nakayama has decided that this version will be directly used as the base for the MD version, ensuring that everyone's efforts over the past six months can meet the players in another form."

MD version?

The group felt a little better, but they still couldn't shake off the immense sense of loss.

For these top arcade game developers, console ports are ultimately just "accessories."

Their battlefield, their glory, should have been in the arcade.

Seeing the morale on the verge of collapse, Director Takahashi knew it was time to take drastic measures.

"As for the arcade version," he paused, raising his voice, "We'll be redeveloping it based on the current game framework! Using the current version as a foundation, we'll utilize our most powerful weapon—System32! I want you to create an even more magnificent and stunning <Hook>!"

"Start over?"

"On System32?"

A suppressed gasp rippled through the crowd, quickly replaced by a deeper weariness.

Having just finished a 10,000-meter race, only to be told that the finish line has been moved and you have to sprint again—this is enough to crush anyone's will.

Just then, Nakayama Takuya, who had been silent all along, stepped forward and spoke softly.

"I know this is tough." His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly to everyone's ears. "Therefore, Director Takahashi has applied for a special benefit for everyone."

All eyes were on him.

"After the project was completed, the entire development team went to the United States at company expense."

..."

"Attending the world premiere of ' Hook ' in Hollywood."

"By the way, I took a photo with director Spielberg."

The room was so quiet you could hear your own heartbeat.

"Oh, right," Nakayama Takuya added, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips, "There's also a week-long paid vacation in California afterwards, all expenses reimbursed by the company."

The deathly silence lasted for three seconds before being completely shattered by a strange scream.

Hollywood—!

"Long live! Long live Special Commissioner Nakayama Yat-sen!"

"Spielberg! I want to take a picture with him!"

The development team, who had just been looking utterly dejected, instantly came back to life, their eyes shining as if they had just been injected with super fuel.

Exhaustion? Despair? What are those things?

Ono shook off his dejection, whirled around, put his hands on his hips, and roared at his group of energized team members:

"Did you all hear that?! What are you all standing there for?! Go get the System32 development manual!"

After painting a grand vision of spanning the Pacific Ocean for the Hook development team, Nakayama Takuya returned to his office, sank into his Genuine Leather chair, and let out a long sigh of relief.

He hadn't felt it in the high-energy atmosphere of the Development Department, but now that things had calmed down, he felt a lingering fear.

The "Hook" incident was essentially a project management mishap that almost went wrong.

While a luxury trip to Hollywood might temporarily suppress the problem, it doesn't address the root cause.

Ultimately, the Sega stemmed from Sega's inadequate and inefficient communication mechanisms as the company expanded globally.

Previously, all the Development Department were crammed into this building at the Tokyo headquarters. We saw each other all the time, and if anything happened, a shout was usually enough to resolve it.

But now, Sega has already expanded a large portion of its business to the other side of the ocean.

The complexity of communication for this transnational project—comprising Redwood City's North America branch, its invested United States studio, and the United States- licensed, Japan- developed project—has increased exponentially.

Not to mention the dreaded time difference between Tokyo and California.

Here, work begins at dawn; there, people are already getting ready to go home and sleep. A document that needs urgent confirmation goes back and forth, and a whole day is gone. Efficiency? In this primitive way of communication, talking about efficiency is a luxury.

He comes from an information-explosive future, accustomed to sending emails instantly, video conferencing, and collaborating on shared documents.

Looking at the fax machine and telephone combination he had now, he still missed the convenience of his previous life.

No, it must be changed.

Instead of waiting for the internet wave to sweep the globe, Sega should first launch an information revolution within its own Sega.

An idea gradually became clear in his mind.

He called his assistant into the outer room.

"Kobayashi, help me prepare a gift, something classy. Hmm—how about that bottle of 'Hibiki' I had saved up last time, along with a box of Toraya's yokan."

"Okay. Is this for an important guest?"

Nakayama Takuya leaned back in his chair, gazing at the sky outside the window, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips, "No, it's for my teacher. I'm planning to go back to my alma mater."

The assistant was visibly taken aback.

"Go back to your alma mater?"

"Yes, to Tokyo Institute of Technology." Nakayama Takuya picked up his car keys and stood up. "I think our company needs some new things. The system we're using now isn't quite up to par. I need to go back and ask my professor."

After sending his assistant away, Nakayama Takuya, carrying the beautifully wrapped gift box, got into his car.

The car smoothly drove out of the parking lot and merged into the traffic flow of Tokyo.