The Return of Hideo Kojima

Nakayama Takuya picked up the cassette tape. It wasn't heavy, but it felt substantial in his hands.

Behind this is the hard work of a top producer and the entire team over the past year.

"You've had a good time. How did it go to demonstrate the acceptance to Mr. Tom Clancy?" Nakayama Takuya poured him a glass of water.

Hideo Kojima took a big gulp and let out a long breath, as if exhaling all the fatigue he had accumulated over the past year.

"Mr. Clancy —he's basically given his approval." Hideo Kojima rubbed his temples, a wry smile on his face. "However, Executive Director, it wasn't like an inspection; it was more like an interrogation. He'd stare at the screen and ask you things like, 'Why isn't this squad advancing under crossfire?'"

"He was scrutinizing our game with a magnifying glass. I could only explain to him that the current game hardware is limited, and the expressive capabilities are already at their limit."

At this point, Hideo Kojima seemed to have opened a floodgate, waving his arms excitedly. "Executive Director, you don't know! To perfect that damn tactical squad AI, we squeezed every last drop of the MD's capabilities out of it! Mark Cerny even joked that he dreams about upgrading the MD's chip every night."

Nakayama Takuya listened to his complaints, but instead of being annoyed, he laughed.

This was the Hideo Kojima he knew—an artist with an obsessive pursuit of his work.

"Being able to squeeze every last drop of functionality from the Mega Drive shows that you've polished the game to its absolute limit," Nakayama Takuya reassured him.

Hideo Kojima's emotions came and went quickly. He waved his hand, "Let's not talk about that. I've officially handed over the development team in the United States to Mark Cerny. He's a genius, he can manage it well. They're currently studying the new technology briefing faxed from headquarters in Tokyo, and they seem quite excited."

Nakayama Takuya smiled meaningfully and changed the subject.

"By the way, <The Clear and Present Danger> is finished. What are your plans next? Have you decided what to do?"

Upon hearing this question, the weariness in Hideo Kojima's eyes vanished, and the fire within him reignited, even burning brighter than before.

"Executive Director, I can already see the dawn of the next generation." He lowered his voice, as if sharing a huge secret, "I want to calm down first and slowly write and polish the script for a new story."

He paused, then uttered the name that made Nakayama Takuya's heart skip a beat.

"Metal Gear 2"

Nakayama Takuya nodded and asked with interest, "Any new ideas?"

"My ideas are still a bit vague; I need to sort them out slowly first." Hideo Kojima shook his head. "I'll discuss them with you again once I've finished writing them down."

Nakayama Takuya nodded, not putting any pressure on him.

"Are they still holding down my workstation in the Game Review Team?" Hideo Kojima snapped out of his thoughts and regained his composure. "I can finally clear my head and see what everyone else is thinking."

"Okay." Nakayama Takuya nodded. "Then it's settled. You should rest for a few days and adjust to the time difference. The company will give you the credit."

Hideo Kojima slept in his apartment for two whole days to adjust to the time difference before appearing at the company looking refreshed.

He knocked directly on the door of Nakayama Takuya's office.

"Executive Director, I'm back."

"You're recovering quite well." Nakayama Takuya looked him up and down, the fatigue from the transoceanic flight completely gone, replaced by a sharpness that had come with maturity. "I thought you'd be in bed for a week."

Hideo Kojima pulled out a chair and sat down, smiling somewhat sheepishly. "I've had enough sleep. If I keep sleeping, my brain will rust. I was just thinking of going to the review team to see if they have anything interesting lately."

"No rush." Nakayama Takuya took a schedule from his drawer and pushed it in front of him. "The Marketing Department has arranged an interview for you with a media outlet the day after tomorrow afternoon."

Hideo Kojima's brow furrowed slightly, almost unconsciously.

"An exclusive interview?" He picked up the itinerary, a hint of resistance in his voice. "The publicity for ' The Clear and Present Danger,' can't the Marketing Department handle that? I—I'm not very good at dealing with reporters."

For a creator who has just been freed from a year of intensive development, asking them to face flashing lights and recording devices again is indeed asking too much.

"No, only you can do this interview." Nakayama Takuya leaned forward slightly, his fingers interlaced on the table. "Kojima -san, what kind of game do you think <The Clear and Present Danger> is?"

"Hmm?" Hideo Kojima hadn't expected him to ask that. After a moment's thought, he replied seriously, "A hardcore, realistic tactical simulation game. It doesn't prioritize fast-paced action, but rather the fun of strategy and planning."

"Well said." Nakayama Takuya nodded. "So what kind of player would like it?"

"Of course, it's those who are willing to use their brains, like military topics, and can settle down to study them—" Hideo Kojima stopped abruptly halfway through his sentence.

He suddenly looked up at Nakayama Takuya, Nakayama Takuya smiled, "You've figured it out? The players who buy it are the same people who studied Metal Gear over and over again back then. They'll buy the game because of the name ' Hideo Kojima '."

"What they want to hear isn't the same old marketing press releases from the Marketing Department, but you, the creator of the game, telling them firsthand what you experienced in United States, how many arguments you had with those military advisors, and how you squeezed every last drop of functionality out of the Mega Drive to create this monster."

These words struck Hideo Kojima like a bolt of lightning.

He remembered that magazine from back then, and how the players had marked every detail he had buried with red arrows and annotations.

That profound resonance of being understood is something no sales figure can match.

The hint of resistance in his eyes was quickly replaced by another kind of fire.

"I understand." Hideo Kojima straightened his back unconsciously. "Executive Director, you want me to tell the players the behind-the-scenes story as part of the game's content."

"Brilliant!" Nakayama Takuya snapped his fingers. "We're not just selling a cartridge; we're building a brand, a unique creator brand that belongs to you. From the Metal Gear Solid art book to this interview, everything we've done is contributing to that brand."

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

"I want to create a consensus among players: every game made by Hideo Kojima, regardless of its genre, contains hidden gems worth discovering. That way, when you release Metal Gear 2, you'll be greeted by a frenzy across the entire market."

Hideo Kojima's breathing became somewhat rapid.

He seemed to see a path paved by Metal Gear Solid being widened into a broad avenue leading to the future under Nakayama Takuya's planning.

"Executive Director," he clenched his fist, too excited to say anything.

"Relax." Nakayama Takuya turned around, a mischievous smile on his face. "Just think of it as going to a tea party with your fans."

When Hideo Kojima heard Nakayama Takuya's statement, he was taken aback at first, and then couldn't help but laugh.