Dissolution of the Soviet Union

Minoru Arakawa didn't say anything, but simply pushed the sales report aside.

Next to the report was another list of game sales.

Super Mario World and the Legend of Zelda: Triforce of the Gods remain strong, but apart from these, SNES has very few other games to play.

Games like "Super Tennis Tour" and "Ozaki Golf" – these ported sports games have little text and are quickly localized. Even though their sales aren't bad, they're still just minor additions.

They simply cannot compare to the three bombs Sega dropped in the arcades this winter.

"Where are our new games? Capcom? Konami? Are all their Super Famicom games still sleeping in Japan?" Howard irritably loosened his tie. "United States aren't like the Japan; they don't have that strong 'otaku' mentality. They're not going to stick around with just two games all winter! Sony Columbia, and Sega are making all the Christmas money!"

His anger was not without reason.

SNES' momentum is waning.

Although monthly sales of nearly three million units have already brought this new console past the brink of collapse, enough to give Nintendo a sigh of relief.

But taking a break doesn't mean you can rest on your laurels.

Especially when facing such a cunning opponent.

Howard.

Minoru Arakawa finally spoke, his voice so calm it was completely unwavering.

He picked up the newspaper and examined the photo of the Hook arcade machine.

"We lost this game, not because they went to the movies."

Howard paused for a moment, looking at him with confusion.

"It's because we don't have enough games on our shelves." Minoru Arakawa put down the newspaper, his gaze returning to the dismal game sales list. "Our customers buy the world's best console, but can only play Mario and Link. It's like buying a Ferrari but only being able to take it to the Nürburgring Nordschleife."

He paused, his tone now carrying an undeniable decisiveness.

"SNES has survived. Now, it needs food, lots of food, to feed the hungry players."

Howard's breathing gradually calmed down, and he understood what Minoru Arakawa meant.

Anger won't solve anything; more games will.

"I understand." He nodded. "I'll immediately urge them to expedite the process and get those third parties to hand over their English versions as soon as possible."

"It's not just about urging." Minoru Arakawa shook his head, took a document from his drawer, and pushed it in front of Howard.

That was a list of all the major third-party developers in North America and their project schedules.

"Starting today, Nintendo's Marketing Department will assign dedicated personnel to each of our key third-party partners."

Howard's eyes widened slightly.

"Help them solve translation problems, help them solve testing problems, and even help them solve funding problems." Minoru Arakawa's fingertips slowly traced across the list, finally stopping at one name.

"We want their games to be on North America shelves at an unprecedented speed. We want to tell them that Nintendo's feast has only just begun."

Howard took the list, left the office, and said only one sentence, "Leave it to me."

Sega Tokyo Headquarters, Marketing Department Office.

"Executive Director! Good news!"

A section chief from the Marketing Department practically burst through the door and rushed into Nakayama Takuya's office. The report in his hand was slightly crumpled, and his face was flushed redder than a freshly steamed crab.

"Latest data from North America! SNES sales growth has begun to slow."

"Our combined strategy worked! Sony's cinema offensive, coupled with our relentless bombardment in arcades, completely disrupted Nintendo's rhythm!"

In the office, several employees who were reporting on their work also excitedly echoed, their eyes filled with admiration as they looked at Nakayama Takuya.

This three-pronged offensive was orchestrated by the young executive director himself.

Nakayama Takuya leaned back in his chair, took the report from the excited section chief, and smiled, but there was no wild joy that everyone had expected.

He simply glanced calmly at the flattening curve, then placed the report on the table.

"Well done, everyone." He looked up and surveyed his excited subordinates. "I've asked the president to double everyone's bonuses this month."

"Oh oh oh!"

"Long live the Executive Director!"

The office erupted in enthusiastic cheers.

"But--"

Nakayama Takuya's voice wasn't loud, but it was like a bucket of cold water, instantly silencing the boiling office.

All eyes were on him.

"Don't get too excited." Nakayama Takuya tapped his fingers lightly on the table. "We just made that gorilla roll over while it was dozing off; we didn't knock it out."

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

"Those two, Minoru Arakawa and Howard Lincoln, are probably pushing third-party developers to the limit right now. Nintendo's foundation isn't like Mario and Link's."

This minor setback is nothing to them, not even comparable to gua sha (scraping therapy).

The atmosphere in the office cooled down a bit. The section chief scratched his head and said, "The executive director is right. But this Christmas, we'll definitely outshine them!"

"Christmas--"

Takuya repeated the word, his eyes somewhat unfocused.

He certainly remembered Christmas 1991.

That was truly a "special" Christmas.

The first thought that flashed through his mind wasn't some great game, but a red flag slowly being lowered, and the lonely figure of a man giving a resignation speech on television.

The sudden collapse of a vast empire will shock the world that Christmas.

On Christmas Day in 1991, the air in Tokyo seemed a bit colder than usual.

At Sony Headquarters, the television in the president's office was broadcasting NHK's international news.

In the image, a dejected-looking man is giving a speech, with the Kremlin in the background.

On December 25, Gorbachev announced his resignation as President of the Soviet Union.

The following day, the vast red empire officially dissolved.

The office was unusually quiet, with only the sound of simultaneous interpretation from the television echoing in the background.

Norio Ohga, Ken Kutaragi, Ryoji Chubachi remained silent, watching as the red flag bearing the hammer and sickle slowly descended on the television screen.

And so, an era came to an end.

"It's truly... unbelievable." Ryoji Chubachi was the first to break the silence, watching television with a complex expression.

As someone who experienced the post-war reconstruction, his feelings about this scene are far more profound than those of younger people.