Cannon Fodder

Almost at the same time Nintendo's executive meeting ended.

Tokyo, Iron Plate Formation Building, Namco headquarters.

The atmosphere in Nakamura Masaya's office was even more oppressive.

He had just received an official notice from Nintendo.

The Famicom version of Pac-Man had to immediately begin a full-scale market warm-up and promotional campaign according to Nintendo's planned schedule, and it had to launch in the near future.

Starting the promotion at this moment was indeed meant to use Pac-Man to snipe Fatal Fury.

Nakamura Masaya put down the phone, his fingertips turning faintly white from the force of his grip. He could clearly feel the invisible yet omnipresent pressure coming from Kyoto. One of his company's classic IPs, shelved for so long, was finally being released on the massive Famicom platform. It should have been something worth celebrating.

But now, it felt like they were serving as someone else's stepping stone, using their own classic to dilute the hype around a rival's fresh new work.

Namco had to cooperate with Nintendo's overall strategy, using Pac-Man as a nostalgia card to draw away part of the market's attention. Perhaps it was also meant to achieve a certain "balance" in public opinion and highlight the "legitimacy" of Nintendo's first-party titles.

He walked out of his office and saw employees busily preparing promotional materials for Pac-Man. Those classic, adorable, yet somewhat simple pixelated images stood in stark contrast to the sharp, powerful character concept art for Fatal Fury in the game magazines that several young employees were secretly passing around at the other end of the corridor.

He could even hear their hushed discussion. One of them was excitedly gesturing as he spoke.

"Hey, did you see the latest issue of Animage? That Fatal Fury preview was absolutely insane! That blond guy's moves are so cool!"

"Yeah, yeah! The action scenes don't even look like TV animation! And I heard Sega's going to teach you how to perform the moves after the episode!"

"Seriously? Then couldn't we go straight to the arcade and try them out? Sega's going all out this time..."

The young employees noticed Nakamura Masaya's gaze and immediately fell silent. They hurriedly hid the magazines and pretended to seriously study the Pac-Man pixel art in their hands.

Looking at the orderly, even somewhat outdated promotional plan on his own side, an indescribable sense of powerlessness rose in Nakamura Masaya's heart.

This was what it felt like to depend on others. No matter how brilliant you had once been, once you chose to attach yourself to someone else, you had to act according to their mood.

He could only silently clench his fists, suppressing his resentment and frustration before turning away.

In late December, biting cold winds swept through Tokyo's streets.

While Namco was steeped in an oppressive atmosphere as it rushed to prepare the Famicom version of Pac-Man for release.

A small media conference jointly hosted by Sega and Tatsunoko Studio quietly dropped a bombshell.

Under the focus of countless camera flashes, a representative from Tatsunoko Studio stood shoulder to shoulder with the head of Sega's marketing department.

They officially announced that the arcade version of Fatal Fury would launch simultaneously at Sega-operated and partner arcades across Japan on January 11, 1986.

What excited the reporters at the venue, as well as readers who learned the news through magazine bulletins, even more was this.

The highly anticipated TV anime adaptation of Fatal Fury would also officially premiere on the same day—January 11.

The game and anime would launch simultaneously.

The news was like an electric current, instantly striking the nerves of everyone following it.

The buzz generated by the trailer had yet to fade when this precise "one-two punch" pushed it to a new peak.

The massive viewership from the anime's premiere would be funneled directly toward the arcade machines that had just been distributed.

The news reached Nintendo's headquarters in Kyoto.

Yamauchi Hiroshi looked over the latest briefing, and his brow creased almost imperceptibly.

He was somewhat surprised by the timing Sega had chosen.

But his expression soon returned to its usual composure.

"Arcades are still just arcades."

He spoke to the executives beside him, his tone retaining its unquestionable authority.

"Animation is merely the icing on the cake."

"Our true battlefield is the home console market."

Even so, to suppress the momentum of Fatal Fury's launch as much as possible and keep it from gaining too much of an advantage in public opinion.

Yamauchi Hiroshi once again issued an order to Namco.

When the telephone rang at Namco headquarters, Nakamura Masaya's heart sank.

Sure enough, Nintendo demanded that the Famicom version of Pac-Man be released on January 8.

Before Fatal Fury.

Nakamura Masaya gripped the receiver so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

The helplessness and frustration in his heart nearly overflowed.

Yet in the end, he still agreed in a calm voice that was almost numb.

"Yes, we will cooperate fully."

After hanging up, he felt a deep sense of powerlessness.

Namco, once an arcade giant, could now only hurriedly mobilize its resources under Nintendo's baton, using a classic port that should have been carefully prepared as cannon fodder to block a rival.

The relevant departments throughout Namco immediately descended into chaotic activity.

Working overtime, rushing out promotional materials, adjusting distribution channels—everything carried the air of forced haste.

January 8, 1986.

The Famicom version of Pac-Man launched as scheduled.

Following Nintendo's instructions, Namco kicked off a promotional campaign centered on nostalgia and classic appeal.

Nintendo's enormous Famicom user base, along with the fans of the Pac-Man arcade version from years earlier, ensured that Pac-Man's launch sales did not look too bad.

At least on paper, it was a passable product.

But the market's actual response was far less optimistic than the numbers suggested.

There was no anticipated buying frenzy.

No heated discussion among players.

Media coverage merely went through the motions, lacking any real excitement.

Compared to Fatal Fury, due to arrive a few days later, Pac-Man seemed somewhat "quiet" at the moment.

Nakamura Masaya stood before the office window, looking down at the sparse foot traffic on the street below.

He held the preliminary sales data that had just been delivered.

The figures were acceptable, but they could not dispel the gloom in his heart.

He could clearly sense that Nintendo's attempt to use Pac-Man as a "sniper shot" this time had achieved rather limited results.

If anything, this somewhat muted market response only served to highlight the astonishing momentum built up by Fatal Fury's animated PV.

People's anticipation clearly was not focused on this "old bean."

Nakamura Masaya's gaze drifted involuntarily toward the open gaming magazine on his desk.

Fatal Fury's latest promotional spread was printed prominently inside, with Terry Bogard's powerful pose dominating the entire page.

A tangle of emotions filled his heart.

There was disappointment at seeing his company's classic IP reduced to a tool.

There were also complicated feelings toward Sega—or rather, toward the young man named Nakayama Takuya—and the novel market strategy he had displayed.

A trace of surprise, a trace of admiration, and even a trace of... envy?