Recruitment Problems
The next morning, after finishing several urgent documents, Nakayama Takuya went straight to the Human Resources Department.
Yesterday's lackluster project proposals made him realize that the problem wasn't with the employees' execution ability, but rather that they had hired the wrong people or used the wrong standards from the very beginning.
When the head of the Human Resources Department Kitashirakawa, saw Nakayama Takuya come in person, he was flattered and quickly got up to greet him.
"Special Secretary Nakayama, why did you come in person? Just let me know if there's anything you need."
"Minister Kitashirakawa, please have a seat." Nakayama Takuya waved his hand, and without a word, picked up a job posting from the table. "Let me see how we recruit people."
Minister Kitashirakawa's heart skipped a beat, but he still respectfully handed over the detailed recruitment procedures.
Nakayama Takuya skimmed through the text, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper.
Just as he expected, it was rigid, inflexible, and lifeless.
Game design positions require majors in literature or economics; art positions require graduates from art Academy; and programmer positions, needless to say, are exclusively computer science majors.
This kind of recruitment method, which relies on following a set pattern, might work in traditional industries, but in the ever-changing gaming industry, especially in this era where creativity reigns supreme, it's a disaster.
"Minister Kitashirakawa, I have a question for you." Nakayama Takuya put down his documents and looked calmly at the other man. "Do you play games?"
"Huh?" Kitashirakawa was taken aback, clearly not expecting the executive director to ask this. "Occasionally—I play around with the company's products."
What about Nintendo games?
A bead of sweat appeared on Kitashirakawa's forehead; this was no easy question to answer.
At Sega, openly saying you like Nintendo games is somewhat politically incorrect.
He stammered, "I've looked into this, but I haven't played it much."
Nakayama Takuya smiled, not wanting to put him in a difficult position, and instead changed the subject. "Do you know Shigeru Miyamoto of Nintendo?"
"Of course, his name is legendary." Department Kitashirakawa's expression turned serious when he mentioned the rival company's star producer.
What was his major?
"This—" Minister Kitashirakawa was stumped by the question; he really hadn't paid attention to such details before.
"Kanazawa College of Art, Industrial Design major," Nakayama Takuya said casually. "By our standards, he wouldn't even qualify for a game design interview; at best, he'd be assigned to the peripherals or frame design department. Do you think that's reasonable?"
Minister Kitashirakawa was instantly speechless, cold sweat soaking the back of his shirt.
The example of Shigeru Miyamoto shattered their proud "relevant professional skills" hiring standard.
"Game development is creative work, not assembly line production." Nakayama Takuya's voice wasn't loud, but every word struck a chord with everyone in the Human Resources Department. "What we need are people with passion, ideas, and unique insights into games, not just rows of impressive academic certificates."
He stood up, paced around the office a couple of times, then stopped in front of Minister Kitashirakawa, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"These academic and professional restrictions were set in the past, and the companies at that time probably had their own considerations. We won't go into those details."
"However, starting today, all professional restrictions will be lifted for all game development-related positions."
"As long as he can pass our professional skills assessment, I'll take him regardless of whether he studied philosophy, history, or veterinary medicine!"
"An interdisciplinary background often brings unexpected synergy to our games. What we need is not a group of rule-bound craftsmen, but a group of imaginative artists!"
These words carried weight and silence, plunging the entire office into a deathly stillness.
Before Nakayama Takuya could finish speaking, he picked up a pen and wrote a few words on a piece of white paper.
"In addition, a questionnaire will be added to the recruitment process."
"The questionnaire is very simple." He pushed the paper in front of Department Head Kitashirakawa. "Have him list his three favorite games and three least favorite games, and explain in detail why. No platform or manufacturer restrictions— Nintendo, Namco, write whatever you like, as much as you can. I especially want to see what they're unhappy with about Sega's own games."
"What?" Department Head Kitashirakawa was genuinely shocked this time. "They're being asked to criticize the company's products?"
This is absolutely unheard of!
What company would ask a job applicant to point at their face and berate their product during the hiring process?
"Exactly!" Nakayama Takuya declared firmly. "Why would I hire someone who's unwilling to point out the flaws in our product just to flatter us? The real talent we need is someone who dares to speak frankly and gets to the heart of the matter! Keep that kind of person, regardless of their education or major!"
"Through this questionnaire, we can see not only a person's taste and knowledge in games, but also the depth of their thinking and their ability to express themselves. This is a hundred times more useful than seeing what they say on their resume that they 'love games'."
Nakayama Takuya paused for a moment, then continued, "Tell the applicants that this questionnaire isn't a hard requirement; it's okay if they haven't played the game and don't need to answer it. However, insightful and unique perspectives will be considered in their evaluation for future promotions or even leading independent game development projects."
Seeing the stunned Department Head Kitashirakawa, Nakayama Takuya softened his tone. "I know this will greatly increase your workload, but it's necessary. Sega's future rests in the hands of these young people who are about to join us. We cannot lower our hiring standards."
Minister Kitashirakawa took a deep breath, recovering from his shock. He looked at the excessively young executive director before him with eyes full of awe.
He finally understood why a master like Yu Suzuki would listen to this young man so readily.
Such boldness and vision were simply unimaginable to these old-fashioned employees who followed the old ways.
"I understand, Executive Director Nakayama!" Department Head Kitashirakawa bowed deeply. "I'll revise the recruitment regulations immediately and produce a new plan by today!"
Nakayama Takuya nodded, then turned and left the Human Resources Department.
The first step in the reform has been taken, albeit in a small recruitment process. This signifies that fresh, vibrant blood is about to flow into Sega's somewhat outdated machine.
However, this is just the beginning.
Nakayama Takuya knew that recruiting capable people was only the first step; the real challenge was changing the deeply ingrained "single-minded" mentality within the company.