Balancing

In early November, Sega's third development group was more on edge than ever. Rather than fading with the completion of the demo, the tension in the air only intensified, as if fresh fuel had been thrown onto the fire.

The office was no longer merely a realm of clattering keyboards.

In their place came arguments rising and falling in waves, growing louder by the second, mixed with the endlessly repeated sounds of punches and kicks from the arcade cabinet and the characters' shouted move names.

"No! Terry's recovery after Burn Knuckle has to be increased by another two frames! Otherwise, Andy's Flying Fist can't create any effective pressure at all!"

Team Leader Shimizu jabbed forcefully at the data on the screen, the veins in his neck faintly bulging as he argued his case against Yu Suzuki, who was also frowning deeply across from him.

Yu Suzuki slammed a hand down on the desk, making the empty Coke cans beside it buzz and rattle.

"Ridiculous! More recovery? Then how is Terry supposed to space against Joe Higashi's Hurricane Upper? He'll be completely forced into taking hits!"

He pointed at another draft sheet covered in dense character-performance comparison charts.

"What we're making is balance, not weakening a character's core gameplay!"

"But we can't turn Andy into a punching bag that can only throw projectiles!"

"Isn't Joe Higashi's jumping attack hitbox too large? There was obviously a problem in that last test!"

"That isn't a high-priority issue. Fix Geese's Atemi Throw completely first!"

Arguments like these played out in different corners of the office almost every day. With Terry, Andy, and Joe Higashi—the three characters gradually taking shape—as the center of attention, discussions over frame counts, distances, and hitboxes became precise down to the pixel. Some insisted that Andy's Rising Tackle had too few invincibility frames to serve as a reliable anti-air; others countered that Terry's Crack Shoot extended too far forward, making it easy to create unfair pressure. Everyone, based on their understanding of the characters and experience from countless tests, tried to defend or alter one parameter or another.

The core developers gathered around arcade cabinets or stared at screens filled with values, arguing until their faces reddened over a move's hitbox range, damage, startup speed, recovery, even a character's jump height and airtime. The atmosphere was as lively as a marketplace, yet filled with the particular stubbornness and investigative drive of technical people. They knew full well that every tiny adjustment could trigger a chain reaction affecting a character's role and the strategies players used.

Nakayama Takuya appeared more often at the edges of these circles of debate.

He no longer sat personally at the controls to demonstrate things, nor did he directly offer specific numerical adjustments as he had before. More often, he listened and observed. Occasionally, when the arguments became most heated and both sides reached an impasse, he would casually toss out one or two questions.

"If we adjust this parameter, what chain reactions will it have on the character's other moves and matchups against other characters?"

"When we pursue 'balance,' do we mean every character should perform exactly the same, or that each should have strengths and weaknesses that counter one another?"

"Have you considered introducing other mechanics to address this sense of imbalance, instead of simply changing the move itself?"

His questions often calmed both sides of an argument, prompting them to reassess the issue from a broader perspective and consider what their adjustments were ultimately meant to achieve. Team Leader Shimizu, Yu Suzuki, and the others also grew rapidly through this constant clash of ideas and reflection. They were no longer content with merely implementing features. Instead, they actively explored the deeper logic of fighting-game design, learning how to grasp the subtle art of balance and understand the "strategic depth" and "player choice" Takuya had emphasized before.

That was exactly what Takuya wanted to see. What he needed were capable generals who could stand on their own, not a group of sappers who only knew how to follow orders. Sega's future could not rest on him alone.

After confidently leaving the specific balance adjustments and the work of bringing in the following characters—Andy Bogard and Joe Higashi—to Shimizu and Yu Suzuki, Takuya's own focus quietly began to shift.

Alongside the documents related to Fatal Fury on his desk sat a locked hard-cover notebook. During breaks between project meetings, or while working alone late at night, he would take out the notebook and sketch strange diagrams in pencil. They were neither game characters nor setting concepts. They looked more like... structural diagrams of electronic components, with toy-like outer contours. The lines were simple, but the designs were intricate.

He had not shown anyone what was inside that notebook. They were seeds for a new frontier he intended to open for Sega beyond the console and arcade battlefields. They were also inconspicuous foreshadowing planted for some grander plan in the future.

Mid-November, North America.

Thanksgiving was drawing ever closer, and the air was already filled with the restless anticipation before the shopping season. At Nintendo of America's headquarters in Redmond, the atmosphere was even more energized.

In the president's office, Minoru Arakawa held the telephone receiver, unable to suppress the excitement on his face. At the other end of the line was Nintendo's headquarters in Kyoto, Japan, and his father-in-law, Yamauchi Hiroshi.

"Yes, Father! The NES sales momentum is extremely strong!"

Minoru Arakawa's voice brimmed with confidence.

"Based on the current channel feedback and sales data, we are very confident that we'll break through the one-million-unit mark before the end of the year!"

One million units. In the North American market that had endured the Atari crash, that figure was nothing short of a miracle. It declared that Nintendo—or rather, Nintendo of America under Minoru Arakawa's leadership—had successfully brought video games back into American living rooms. With several powerful launch titles such as Super Mario Bros., the NES had practically monopolized the conversation in the North American home-console market.

There was a brief silence on the other end before Yamauchi Hiroshi's low, commanding voice came through.

"Good. What about Sega? What are they doing in North America?"

There was little emotion in Yamauchi Hiroshi's voice, but the question itself represented his fundamental vigilance toward this longtime rival.

Minoru Arakawa had clearly prepared for it.

"Sega? Other than their Tetris handheld still selling, Master System shipments remain extremely limited, and their market share is practically negligible." His tone was relaxed, carrying a faint, barely perceptible contempt. The Master System was indeed technically more powerful than the NES, but Minoru Arakawa understood perfectly well that console competition ultimately came down to content and ecosystem. Sega lacked sufficient third-party support, and its game lineup was thin; its marketing was also nowhere near as overwhelming as Nintendo's.

"According to the intelligence we have, they still pose no substantive threat whatsoever in the North American console market."

"Mm." Yamauchi Hiroshi responded, seemingly unsurprised by the answer.

"If that is the case, there is no need to waste too much effort on them at this stage." Yamauchi Hiroshi's voice was decisive and left no room for doubt.

"Nintendo's focus in North America is to continue solidifying the user base established by the NES, expand our game library, and hold this core territory." His words revealed a strategic conservatism and pragmatism. "As long as we do not make mistakes ourselves, whatever small moves Sega makes in Japan will not stir up much trouble."

The "small moves" he referred to were obviously the promotional campaign Fatal Fury had launched in Japanese gaming and anime magazines.

In Yamauchi Hiroshi's eyes, that was merely Sega struggling in its domestic market. It was still far from threatening Nintendo's dominant position in the vast North American market.