Mutual Traffic
The clamor in the movie theater is just one aspect of this multi-dimensional war.
For true gamers, for the real hardcore battlefield, the arcades remain those dimly lit spaces filled with the smell of sweat and the cacophony of electronic sounds.
"You want me to hang this up? Are you guys crazy?"
The owner of an arcade in Chicago, a man nicknamed "Fat Joe," held a movie poster of "Hook" with a look of reluctance on his face.
Pointing to the posters of Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat hanging on the wall, he gruffly said to the Sega channel representative, "My customers come to play games, but if they see the movie posters and go to see the movies, am I still supposed to do business?"
The distribution specialist from Columbia TriStar Film Distributors simply smiled, took a few crisp Krillin banknotes from his briefcase, and gently placed them on the bar.
"A small token of appreciation from Columbia TriStar Pictures, Joe. It'll only be up for a few days."
Fat Joe stared at the few green bills, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.
His face twitched, but he reluctantly grabbed the banknotes and posters.
"Fine, fine! For the money! But if it affects my business, I'll tear it up and use it as toilet paper!"
However, things quickly took an unexpected turn.
Some regulars, after playing a few rounds of the newly arrived Hook, were so captivated by the gorgeous graphics and fluid animations that they actually started discussing in small groups whether they should go see a movie after work.
"Hey, this game's pretty good, the movie probably won't be too bad either, right?"
"Let's walk around, we have nothing else to do anyway."
Fat Joe watched them leave, cursing inwardly, thinking that the poster was definitely designed to drive customers away.
But not long after, the doorbell rang.
A young couple and a family of three walked in, heading straight through rows of fighting and shooting game machines, with a clear goal in mind, to the <Hook> game.
"That's it! That's what they were all gathered around in the movie theater!" the little boy exclaimed excitedly, pointing at the game console.
His father rummaged in his pocket, pulled out a few coins, and handed them over.
Fat Joe was stunned.
He didn't recognize any of these people; they were clearly not regulars at his place.
"Boss, are there any seats left?" a young man who had just come out of the street cinema asked. "There's a long queue at the cinema, I heard you have some here?"
Fat Joe's mind went blank for a moment, then everything clicked.
He looked at the new faces who had come specifically because they hadn't gotten to play the movie in the theater, and then at the movie poster he had previously disliked. His chubby face beamed with a smile that resembled a blooming chrysanthemum.
This isn't about driving customers away; it's clearly a two-way flow of customers!
"Yes! Of course!" He greeted them warmly, personally helping them exchange their game tokens, his attentiveness making him seem like a completely different person.
When it was time to take stock that evening, Fat Joe stared at the Hook machine, which was overflowing with coins, and his mouth practically stretched to his ears in a wide grin.
He no longer had any objection to hanging up the poster.
The same scene was playing out simultaneously in thousands of arcades across the United States that partnered with Sega.
The atmosphere at Sega North America headquarters was as lively as a party.
A report compiled by Columbia TriStar Pictures' market research department is being eagerly circulated among every executive.
"Tom, great news!" Bernard Stolar patted Kalinske on the shoulder excitedly, "The first-day data is in! We conducted a random sample survey of the audience at the theater exits, and do you know how many people were influenced by the game to decide to see this movie?"
He held up two fingers, then quickly turned them back into one.
"The most conservative estimate is 10%! In more optimistic areas, it could even approach 20%!"
A collective gasp filled the office.
For a Hollywood A-list production, viewers drawn in by the game alone accounted for 10-20% of the total box office on its opening day.
The profits behind this figure are enough to drive any film company executive crazy.
Although the impact will inevitably diminish over time, the strong initial sales figures will still have a significant impact on the overall box office performance.
"That's not all," another Marketing Department analyst added. "We can't precisely count the number of people drawn from cinemas to arcades, but there's an interesting statistic. On opening day, every Hook arcade machine in the cinema had its coin box emptied at least three times because it was full!"
Three times!
This means that the machine is constantly consuming coins from the start of business until its internal cash box is full.
Kalinske leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, his face beaming with undisguised smugness.
Meanwhile, inside the headquarters building of Sony Columbia Pictures, the atmosphere was equally enthusiastic.
The executives were passing around several different reports: one was box office data compiled by Columbia TriStar Film Distributors, and the other was market feedback from Sega.
"The critics' reviews aren't very good." A vice president glanced at the documents in his hand and read aloud the summary, "It only has a 29% fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes, criticizing the film's slow pacing and saying that the Neverland segment is childish and lacks magic."
The office was silent for a moment, then burst into laughter.
"Childish? Lacking in magic? Wasn't the last time these people went to the cinema to see Citizen Kane?" Another executive spread his hands dramatically. "Do they even know what family entertainment is?"
He picked up another report and slammed it on the table, "76% Rotten Tomatoes score from viewers! That's real money! Not to mention this!"
He excitedly pointed to a line in the report, which was cross-promotion data analysis provided by Sega.
"More than 10% of the audience at the opening day decided to buy tickets after playing that damn arcade game in the theater! 10%! Tom Kalinske and his crew are geniuses!"
"We delivered arcade machines to theaters, and the arcade machines brought audiences back to our theaters. God, making money is as easy as breathing."
Everyone was excited about the impressive box office figures and the perfect business cycle.
As for the sour remarks from film critics, who's actually speaking out?
This film was never intended to compete for an Oscar from the very beginning.
Amidst the jubilation, only one person stood out as an oddity.
Director Steven Spielberg sat alone on a sofa in the corner, with several newspapers containing negative film reviews scattered on the coffee table in front of him.
He didn't look at the encouraging box office figures; instead, he stared at words like "self-indulgence" and "showy but impractical" in the newspaper, his brow furrowed.