Pointing the Sword at Chicago

"Well said!"

The conference room door was pushed open, Ken Kutaragi strode in. He wasn't even wearing a suit, just a jacket that engineers often wore.

He completely ignored the previous discussion about personnel, walked straight to the conference table, and slammed a thick technical document on it.

"Everyone, when talking about developers, don't forget the hosting platform they're about to have."

His voice wasn't loud, but it instantly drew everyone's attention.

"The PlayStation prototype, in its hardware development phase, is now complete!"

Boom!

The news exploded like a bomb in the conference room.

"So fast?!"

"Kutaragi- kun, are you sure?"

"Everyone knows we were turned down by Sega before, and most of the people we poached were deputies and frustrated programmers." Ken Kutaragi looked around, a hint of pride typical of a technologist on his face. "But do you know what that means? It means they weren't bound by the limitations of the old platform! They were like a pack of hungry wolves, their eyes lighting up when they saw the performance of the PlayStation development kit!"

He opened the document, turned to a page filled with densely packed parameters.

"Our image processing capabilities are several levels higher than Sega's Mega Drive, and even significantly superior to Nintendo's Nintendo Famicom, which served as the prototype."

Norio Ohga had been listening quietly, but finally spoke, asking a crucial question, "What about our collaborative project with Nintendo?"

Everyone fell silent and looked at Ken Kutaragi.

"SFC-CD?" Ken Kutaragi's lips curled into a slight sneer, his tone carrying a barely perceptible hint of disdain. "It's finished. A CD drive that perfectly meets all contractual requirements, no more, no less. The samples are ready to be packaged and sent to Kyoto for Yamauchi Hiroshi to inspect."

He paused, then added, "A toy whose performance hasn't been optimized; it can only rigidly read disks."

A suppressed chuckle echoed in the conference room. Everyone present was shrewd; they all understood what it meant.

Sony used Nintendo's money to fulfill a minimum contract, then shut itself away and built itself a revolutionary war machine.

"Very good." Norio Ohga nodded, very satisfied with the result.

He stood up, walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, and looked down at the bustling Tokyo below.

"Now that the weapon is complete, it's time to let the whole world hear its roar."

He turned around, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.

"Kutaragi, when will your team be able to release a version that can be publicly demonstrated?"

"By the end of April!" Ken Kutaragi answered without hesitation. "We don't need a complete game, just a few technical demos will be enough to revolutionize the entire industry!"

"So that's the Tokyo Toy Show in June?" said Shigeo Maruyama, who was in charge of Sony Music and didn't know much about the video game industry, with some regret.

"Who said we were going to the Tokyo Toy Show?" Norio Ohga retorted.

He walked to the world map, crossed the Pacific Ocean, and placed his finger heavily on the center of the North America continent.

"Late May, Chicago, United States, Consumer Electronics Show (CES)."

All the executives present were greatly impressed.

In someone else's home turf, in the United States, a market already divided between Nintendo and Sega, are they directly baring their fangs to the world?

That's really bold!

"President, isn't this too risky? Our software lineup—"

"We don't need a software lineup!" Norio Ohga interrupted him, his voice carrying an undeniable authority. "What we need is a stage, a stage where the whole world can see us! We want all developers, all players, and all media to understand one thing— Sony has arrived!"

The news that the SFC-CD was nearing completion was like a shot in the arm, injecting energy into every corner of Nintendo 'Kyoto headquarters.

Masayuki Uemura, the key figure in charge of hardware Development Department 1, beamed with a long-lost excitement.

The frequent good news from the Europe market has already boosted their morale, and the good news from Sony, a worthy "ally," has made everyone feel that Nintendo can start preparing for its next offensive.

Even Shigeru Miyamoto, who was on vacation recuperating after exhausting himself developing the Legend of Zelda: Triforce of the Gods to the Past, couldn't contain his excitement and cut his vacation short, returning to work in high spirits.

The entire headquarters was immersed in an optimistic and busy atmosphere.

Except for one person.

Yokoi Gunpei.

Game Boy's lackluster performance in the Japan and North America markets has led to his deliberate or unintentional marginalization, relegating him to the bottom tier.

The Cold Palace.

His current job, aside from occasionally assisting with some sporadic game development, mainly involves providing technical support to third-party manufacturers—a seemingly respectable but actually menial task that anyone could do.

That evening, in an unassuming izakaya in Kyoto, Yokoi Gunpei was drinking with several developers from a small third-party company.

"----So, this is just incredibly unlucky!" The Kobayashi across from me gulped down half a glass of sake, his cheeks flushed, and he slurred a complaint, "Our project's lead programmer resigned last week! We're almost at a critical stage!"

"People always strive for better opportunities," Yokoi Gunpei said casually, picking up a mouthful of edamame. "If you pay them enough, you can always find more people."

"That's the problem!" Kobayashi slammed his fist on the table, spilling his drink. "The company that poached him offered a price we simply couldn't match! Double the salary! A company we'd never even heard of— Sony Computer Entertainment? They're really rolling in money!"

Yokoi Gunpei slowed down his chewing.

Sony?

He didn't say anything, but silently poured himself another glass of wine.

A producer from another company nearby chimed in, reeking of alcohol, "Kobayashi, you're not the first. I heard that Konami Namco have also lost a lot of people recently, all poached by this company. They're insane, poaching anyone they see, like it's free money."

"That's right!" Kobayashi exclaimed, finding common ground, her voice rising even louder. "It's one thing for a small company like ours, but they even poach people from Capcom! Money really can buy anything!"

The izakaya was still noisy, but all that remained in Yokoi Gunpei's ears was the word "Sony".

He picked up his glass and asked casually, "With such a big commotion, why haven't we heard of anyone being poached from Nintendo? Even Enix hasn't made a move."