Players Only Care About Games
The uproar in the media and investment circles seemed like a story from another world to the true core group of players in the venue.
"Sony betrayed Nintendo?"
"Is 3DO going to start a three- US dollar revolution?"
"What's it to me? I just want to ask one question: could the line at the Sega booth be a little shorter?"
These lofty business battles are far less real to them than the sign in front of them that reads "Estimated waiting time: 3 hours".
When some belatedly interested players, or those lured in by the "explosive coolness" of light gun games and the "genius-level 3v3" fighting games described by their friends, finally squeezed into the Sega booth, they were met with even greater despair.
In the surrounding sales area, the corner that used to be piled high with all sorts of treasures now only has a lonely signboard with two cold words written in the largest font, "SOLDOUT".
"Gone? All gone?" A young man who had just arrived at the exhibition full of expectations looked at the empty shelves and felt like the sky had fallen.
"Dude, you're just finding out now?" A guy next to me, arms crossed and a knowing look on his face, gloated, "It was completely sold out by the second morning. Let me tell you, those scalpers are inhuman!"
The young man, unwilling to give up, clung to the railing and peered inside, hoping to find some leftovers.
"Stop looking, there's nothing left." Another person patted him on the shoulder, then pulled a hardcover art book out of his backpack with a showy air. The cover was the concept art from <Chrono Trigger> that featured all the main characters.
"See this? The limited edition concept art book for Chrono Trigger! It even includes design sketches by Akira Toriyama!"
Let me tell you, it was totally worth it!
The young man's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and he unconsciously swallowed.
"And this!" The man pulled a heavy metal coin from his pocket, with a sharp "KOF" engraved on it. "A free gift for playing ' The King of Fighters,' how about it, cool or not?"
"Cool—" the young man's voice was already trembling with tears, "Why—why did I even go to Apple's launch event the day before yesterday?!"
All he wants now is to travel back two days and slap his past self who had fantasies about "Newton".
Not far away, a young man with dreadlocks was squatting in the corner, smoking a cigarette with a look of utter despair on his face.
He's the scalper who tried to bribe someone with $150 a couple of days ago.
Because he glanced at the pretty girls at the booth a few more times and hesitated for a few more minutes, by the time he realized what had happened, not only were there no autographed posters of Akira Toriyama, but even the cheapest Sonic keychains had been snatched up.
The demos at the Sega booth were still incredibly popular, but the limited-edition merchandise was gone, and the commemorative coins were all gone, significantly reducing the appeal of the long queues.
Many players, still wanting more, left grumbling and turned around to rush into video game stores of all sizes throughout Chicago.
"Boss! Do you have any Mega Drive cartridges left? Anything will do!"
"SNES! I want Super Mario World! What? Sold out? What about Zelda?"
The vague "next-gen" battles at CES acted like a powerful catalyst, igniting players' passion for current-generation games.
Since they only glance at those grand promises, the most realistic thing for them is the games they can play right now.
When Ken Kutaragi and his entourage returned to Tokyo, they were not greeted with flowers and applause, but with the cold air of Narita Airport at four in the morning.
From Chicago to Tokyo, a flight of more than ten hours, the cabin was deathly silent.
The PIayStation prototype, on which they had once placed all their ambition and pride, was carefully placed in a specially made box, but now it looked like an expensive, unclaimed urn containing ashes.
Ken Kutaragi leaned against the porthole, his eyes bloodshot. The sea of clouds churned outside, but all he could see was Minoru Arakawa's smiling face and his last, nonchalant words, "On behalf of Nintendo, I express my gratitude."
grateful?
This was the most vicious curse he had ever heard in his life.
The convoy took them directly to the Imperial Hotel.
Norio Ohga's chief secretary was already waiting in the lobby, his face expressionless.
"President Ohga has arranged rooms for everyone." The secretary's tone was polite but distant, as if carrying out a procedure. "The president's order is that everyone get a good night's sleep. Before nine o'clock tomorrow morning, no official business is permitted, and no phone calls are allowed."
A young engineer on the team couldn't help but speak up, seemingly wanting to say that they didn't need a break and needed to prepare a report immediately.
Ken Kutaragi raised a hand to stop him.
He understood the meaning in the secretary's eyes. It wasn't compassion, it was an order.
Norio Ohga doesn't need a bunch of mentally broken, disoriented, defeated generals at the board meeting.
What he needs is a group of sober individuals who can clearly articulate how they messed things up.
That night, Ken Kutaragi n't sleep a wink.
The next morning, when the group regrouped, everyone had changed into dark suits, as if they were going to attend a funeral.
Everyone shaved and combed their hair meticulously, trying to use a presentable appearance to cover up their inner fear and haggardness.
The atmosphere at Sony Headquarters was more oppressive than ever before.
The elevator ascended smoothly, and each tick of the numbers felt like a heavy hammer blow to everyone's hearts.
When the elevator doors opened on the top floor, the heavy rosewood boardroom door at the end of the corridor, like the gates of hell, silently awaited them.
The chief secretary stood by the door, bowing slightly to them. "President and directors, you have been waiting for quite some time."
Ken Kutaragi a deep breath; the air, a mixture of expensive cologne, cigars, and suppressed anger, seeped out from under the door.
He straightened his tie, feeling it was like a cold noose.
He turned to look at his team. The engineers, whose eyes had once shone as brightly as his, now had their heads bowed, like a group of prisoners awaiting trial.
Let's go.
Ken Kutaragi's voice was hoarse as he took the first step and personally pushed open the door that would determine their fate.
The long table in the conference room was full of people.
The core of power within the Sony empire was present at this moment.
No one spoke; a dozen or so gazes, like a dozen icy knives, were all fixed on Ken Kutaragi.
At the head of the meeting room, Norio Ohga sat with a somber expression, holding an unlit cigar, his emotions unreadable.
"You've arrived?"
He spoke, his voice not loud, but it made the temperature in the entire conference room drop even further.
"Sit."