The Declining North American Console Market

Shigeru Miyamoto unconsciously uttered the name, his finger pausing on the paper.

The name piqued a primal curiosity in him as a game designer.

"What game is this? I've never heard of it." He looked up at his assistant. "Why is there nothing written in the briefing, just a name and the phrase 'the market response has been enthusiastic'?"

His expression didn't seem like he was questioning anyone; it was more like a child who had discovered a new and exciting toy.

The assistant quickly bowed and explained, "Miyamoto-san, I also found it strange earlier. I specifically checked the latest issues of Famitsu and arcade magazines, and there's absolutely no information about this game in our domestic market."

He paused for a moment, then offered his speculation. "I suspect—could it be that Sega only released it in the North America market this time? And North America is assuming that Japan has already launched it simultaneously, which is why the report didn't go into detail about the game's content."

This explanation is reasonable.

In the Japan market, console and arcade games are almost always released globally for the first time, or at least simultaneously. Major media outlets are also used to focusing on the domestic market, and few people pay special attention to any "exclusive" arcade games overseas.

"Yeah?"

Shigeru Miyamoto nodded, the curiosity in his eyes quickly overshadowed by exhaustion.

He rubbed his temples, only to feel waves of dizziness wash over him again.

Last month, it was right here that he collapsed onto these manuscripts.

If the assistant hadn't discovered it in time, the consequences would have been unimaginable.

Afterwards, the private doctor personally hired by President Yamauchi Hiroshi ordered him to take mandatory leave in an unquestionable tone.

But after lying in the hospital for less than a week, his mind was filled with the upcoming completion of the Legend of Zelda, so he returned home despite everyone's objections.

This matter was kept strictly confidential within Nintendo; everyone assumed he had gone on a long business trip overseas.

"Alright then," Shigeru Miyamoto casually tossed the briefing aside, the stack of papers conveniently covering a corner of the Hyrule map, "When you have time, contact the North America side and ask them what this is all about, get some detailed information."

For him, this was just a trivial incident.

Right now, nothing is more important than getting the first Super Famicom title, the Legend of Zelda, released as soon as possible.

He has poured his heart and soul, even his health, into this goal.

He refocused his attention on this final overall test of the game.

One week later.

On Shigeru Miyamoto's desk, a detailed game report about Metal Slug, faxed from North America, finally appeared.

While this report was traveling between Nintendo's offices on both sides of the globe, the 20,000 Metal Slug units promised by Nakayama Takuya had all arrived in the United States via a combination of air and sea freight, and were distributed to the entire US market at an astonishing speed.

At this moment in the United States, arcades of all sizes are almost entirely dominated by that highly recognizable "click!" metallic sound effect.

The neon sign for Metal Slug became the brightest light in the dimly lit arcade.

The machine was always packed with young people, three or more layers deep, and the metal barrier next to the coin slot jingled as excited players banged on it with twenty-five-cent coins.

A young player, caught off guard, had his throat slit by an enemy soldier who appeared from behind. Instead of showing any pity, the crowd behind him burst into laughter.

Immediately afterward, another coin was eagerly inserted.

This pure, direct, explosive, and humorous joy spread like a virus among teenagers, and for the first time, empty seats appeared in front of shows like <Art of Fighting> and <Mortal Kombat>, where there used to be long queues.

It's not that they weren't fun enough, but that the new machine was just too "awesome".

This change, in an unexpected way, finally stung Nintendo deeply.

Redmond, Nintendo North American Headquarters.

Minoru Arakawa looked at the latest weekly sales report and market intelligence, his brow furrowed in a frown.

Sales of NES game cartridges, and even Mega Drive consoles and games, saw a significant decline.

The increase was small, only in single digits, but for this peak consumption season near the end of the year, it was an unusual sign in itself.

"Howard, what happened?" Minoru Arakawa placed the report on the table, his voice filled with doubt. "Why did it drop?"

There don't seem to have been any special developments in the last two weeks, right?

Howard Lincoln's expression was equally serious as he handed over another document.

"This is our customer traffic analysis from several major retailers," Lincoln explained. "Several large chain stores, including Walmart and Toys "R" Us"R" Us, have mentioned a phenomenon: during the prime time from 3 pm to 7 pm, the proportion of teenage customers decreases significantly."

"Reduced? Where did they go?"

"Arcade." Lincoln uttered the word slowly and deliberately.

Minoru Arakawa's pupils suddenly contracted.

He instantly remembered the briefing he had casually tossed aside last week.

That thing he mocked Sega for creating—all flash and no substance.

Now, this thing is acting like a giant pump, drawing away his target users in his living room one by one, making them willingly exchange the pocket money that should have been used to buy Super Mario for one twenty-five-cent coin after another, feeding it to that machine called Metal Slug.

"Bring me last week's report on Sega's new arcade machine, along with the latest related information." Minoru Arakawa's voice became anxious.

Lincoln was prepared and immediately handed over the documents.

Minoru Arakawa snatched it away, his gaze fixed intently on the paper.

"System32 New Circuit Board - Image Performance Far Beyond Its Time - First Batch of 2,000 Units Sold Out in Two Hours"

2

Sega completed the subsequent distribution of 20,000 units within two weeks.

He had felt nothing but disdain when he first saw those words.

But now, the latest market intelligence for Metal Slug overlaps with the declining curve on the sales report, and every word feels like a slap in the face, burning hot.

He made a mistake.

A strategic, unforgivable mistake.

He underestimated his competitors, and even more so, he underestimated the power of the arcade market.

Tom Kalinske and that Nakayama Takuya weren't doing any flashy, superficial projects; this was a premeditated, incredibly precise, and saturation attack!

Their goal wasn't the paltry profits from arcades at all; it was to steal all players' attention away from home consoles with a groundbreaking arcade game!

"Damn it—" Minoru Arakawa cursed under his breath, clutching the report tightly in his hand until the paper was deformed.

Without his knowledge, war had already reached his doorstep in a way he utterly despised.

"Just wait, in another month, when SNES brings the latest Super Mario and the Legend of Zelda to North America, players whose enthusiasm has been exhausted will definitely return to their living rooms from the arcades." Minoru Arakawa gritted his teeth.