First Development

The bell on the café door chimed softly, and Ito Ryoji's figure disappeared behind the glass window.

Nakayama Takuya stood, drained the last mouthful of lukewarm Blue Mountain coffee, and the residue at the bottom of the cup looked like ink marks that had yet to dry.

He had not the slightest intention of lingering. Waiting had never been his style, especially in this era filled with variables.

He would not passively pin his hopes on some vague, insubstantial news from his upperclassman.

After all, what he had in his head was a treasure trove of games from the next several decades.

The apartment in Meguro Ward was not large, and was even somewhat messy, forming a stark contrast with the orderly solemnity of the Nakayama family mansion.

Several books on geology and programming were piled casually in the corner, giving off the distinctive smell of old paper.

This was the apartment the original owner had rented during university. After graduation, he had not ended the lease; after all, the apartment was not far from Sega headquarters or the Nakayama family mansion, and it let him keep his own independent space.

He deftly lifted the dust cover off a computer with a beige casing, pressed the power button, and the screen gave a faint hum as it warmed up.

Dim green characters lit up line by line against the black background, announcing the startup of the MS-DOS system.

This machine's performance counted as decent in 1985, but compared with the equipment he had used in his previous life, it was practically an antique.

Still, it was enough.

His fingers flew over the keyboard, the crisp, rhythmic tapping sounding especially clear in the quiet room.

Assembly language, a low-level language that was unbearably dull to many, seemed to come alive at his fingertips at this moment.

The original owner's solid foundation as an academic ace from Tokyo Institute of Technology awakened like memories carved into his DNA, intertwining with the game functions of Tetris from his previous life.

On the screen, lines of commands scrolled rapidly, constructing the core logic of blocks falling, rotating, and being cleared.

Tetris.

This simple game with endless magic was precisely the first target he had chosen.

He needed a sufficiently persuasive "work" to prove himself to his father, to Sega, instead of merely spouting theory.

He had asked his upperclassman Ito Ryoji to search for the Soviet Union's version only so he could explain to Sega that this game had an owner, and that Sega needed to pay to buy the copyright.

Merely replicating it was not enough. The corner of Nakayama Takuya's mouth lifted in an almost imperceptible arc.

He needed a true "surprise," one that would be enough to make his steady father's eyes light up, and enough to make those seasoned veterans at Sega look at him sideways.

In his mind, the prototype of a mode that would take the later world by storm gradually became clear.

What if... when one side cleared blocks, it could create obstacles in the opponent's field?

He stopped typing, his fingertips suspended in midair, his eyes flashing with excitement.

Yes, exactly—"garbage lines"!

For every two lines cleared, one hard-to-handle row of gray obstacle blocks would rise from the bottom of the opponent's side.

In an instant, this would turn a single-player puzzle game into an arena full of variables and confrontation!

No one in this era had played it like this before! He immediately threw himself into developing the new function.

A few days later, an MS-DOS version of Tetris containing the basic mode and an innovative battle mode had taken its initial shape.

He tested it over and over, clearing blocks, creating "garbage" for the virtual opponent, adjusting the difficulty and balance, ensuring the logic had no errors and that it ran smoothly enough.

Just as he was buried in debugging bugs, the doorbell rang.

It was his elder sister, Nakayama Ayako, carrying an exquisite gift box, a gentle smile on her face.

Ayako took off her shoes as she said, "When I came back from the United States to pay my respects to Father, he said you were going to enter Sega to develop games, but you hadn't gone to report in right away. I knew you'd be holed up in here."

Ayako walked into the room, placed the gift box on the table, and her curious gaze landed on the monotonously colored blocks that kept falling on the screen.

"What is this? A computer game?"

"Mm, a... little gadget." Nakayama Takuya wiped the sweat from the corner of his forehead, but in his heart, he was somewhat expectant. "A program I wrote myself. It's called Tetris. Want to try it, Sis? I added a two-player battle mode."

"Me?" Ayako hesitated a little. She did not have much interest in these boys' things.

"Just try it. It's really simple." Takuya invited her enthusiastically.

At first, Ayako sat down only with the feeling of indulging her younger brother, clumsily operating the keyboard under Takuya's guidance.

The blocks moved awkwardly, rotated, fell, and occasionally she managed to clear one or two lines.

Gradually, Ayako became absorbed in it. Although the instincts of a young lady from a refined family kept her from shouting and yelling, the focus on her face and the excitement each time she cleared blocks could be felt as solid as stone.

But after a few rounds, especially after Takuya switched to battle mode and repeatedly used "garbage lines" to throw her into a flurry until the screen filled with blocks and the game ended, her eyes changed.

It was a focus mixed with vexation, a refusal to admit defeat, and intense interest; she even forgot to introduce the gift she had brought to her younger brother.

"One more round!" Ayako swiftly pressed the restart key. Her originally gentle cheeks flushed slightly, and her tone carried a trace of urgency. "This time, I definitely won't lose to you!"

Looking at his elder sister completely immersed in it, Nakayama Takuya's heart settled.

The magic of this game really did cross gender and era.

His sister's reaction undoubtedly proved the potential of Tetris and its battle mode.

But Nakayama Takuya was not swept away by this brief success.

After dinner, after seeing his sister off, he leaned back in his chair and gazed out at the pitch-black night sky beyond the window, the city's neon lights reflecting against the side of his face.

Nintendo's Famicom loomed over the entire home console market like a colossal shadow.

The classic game mechanics of Super Mario Bros. were practically the textbook standard answer for side-scrolling platformers in this era, leaving every rival looking dim by comparison.

Although Sega's SG-1000 and Mark III were working hard to catch up, under that kind of market structure, they seemed so powerless.

To rashly push Tetris or any new game onto a home console platform now would be no different from throwing precious ammunition into a bottomless abyss.

The investment would be enormous, the risk too high, and the returns hard to guarantee—twice the effort for half the result.

But... what about the arcade market?

Nakayama Takuya's gaze sharpened again.

That was another battlefield. Though the competition there was just as fierce, Sega was not without the strength to strike back.

Sega had deep foundations in the arcade field; whether in technical strength or channel resources, it possessed considerable advantages.

Those arcades spread all across the country were the best proving grounds and promotional fronts.

A successful arcade game could not only bring immediate cash flow and brand reputation, but also polish the core gameplay, build player word of mouth, and verify the value of the IP.

That was right. The focus should be placed on arcades first.

Use one arcade game, or even several, that were stunning enough and lucrative enough to reignite players' passion for Sega.

Then, next year, when the 16-bit console carrying Sega's hopes of counterattack—the Mega Drive—came out, these successful arcade titles that had been tested by the market and had amassed large numbers of fans would be the sturdiest, most reliable first-party escort masterpieces!

This was the safest and most effective strategy. When the time came, adding a few new games whose mechanics could only be perfectly realized on a 16-bit console would lay the foundation for the console's installed base.

The strategic direction was set. Then what genre should the next arcade game put into development be?

For puzzle games, they already had Tetris as their trump-card backup. Perhaps... they should bring out something more in line with the atmosphere of an arcade, something more "hardcore," something better able to display Sega's technical strength?

His fingers unconsciously tapped in rhythm against the slightly cold tabletop, while his mind, like a CPU running at high speed, began searching through that vast ocean of games deep in his memories for the names that had once stirred up heaven-shaking waves in arcades.