Research on the Next-Generation Console

"Alright, that's all for today." Nakayama Takuya stood up. "Remember, everything discussed in today's meeting is top secret. I don't want any word of it leaked within the company."

The three of them stood up in unison and solemnly agreed.

They left the conference room, each carrying their own weighty tasks.

The conference room door closed behind them, shutting out the almost boiling fervor.

Nakayama Takuya walked slowly back to his Managing Director's Office, the composed demeanor on his face quietly transforming into a thoughtful expression when no one was around.

Yu Suzuki and his team were assigned a technical task: to overcome the barriers between hardware and software.

And what about Nakayama Takuya's mission?

He pulled out a chair and sat down, his fingers lightly tapping on the smooth surface of the desk.

His battlefield was not in the laboratory or in front of the development machine, but in the boardroom, which was decorated in a simple and elegant style, but whose atmosphere could be so heavy that it would make people feel suffocated.

No matter how brilliant the technical blueprint or how revolutionary the controller design, in the eyes of those old men who only look at financial reports, nothing compares to a line of solid numbers.

MD was still selling like hotcakes, with cash flow pouring into the company's accounts like a waterfall. At this point, someone would jump out and say they wanted to invest more than a billion US dollar in a "future," even if it was to be invested in batches over two years. To them, that sounded like madness.

After all, this is Japan.

Nakayama Takuya even recalled a comical scene from his past life: a quarter of the 21st century had passed, and government agencies were still searching the world for computers that could read 3.5-inch floppy disks just to submit a single data entry.

He absolutely cannot allow Sega to become such a conservative conglomerate.

Conservatism can sometimes be a sign of prudentity, but sometimes it can be a shortcut to the grave.

He must prepare sufficiently powerful "ammunition" to blast open the minds of those blinded by current profits.

To say "Believe me, we can win" without any real understanding is something only a fool would do.

What you need are outrageously detailed research reports and irrefutable market data to endorse your "prediction".

With that in mind, he pressed the button on the internal phone, connecting to his assistant's desk.

"Kobayashi, come in for a moment."

Soon, the assistant knocked on the door and came in, his posture respectful.

"Chief, what are your orders?"

Nakayama Takuya said calmly, "Now, I need you to immediately coordinate with the Marketing Department to get me several sets of information that are completely different in direction."

Kobayashi immediately took out his notebook, his expression focused.

"First, I need a report on the latest developments of all potential competitors in the semiconductor and Nintendo technology fields globally. In particular, I need to know what technology patents they've acquired, who Sony 've poached, and even the most North America rumors."

"Secondly, conduct an anonymous, in-depth survey of our existing third-party developers. The topics should be their expectations for the future of game development, their views on 3D technology, and the pain points of the current development environment. I want to know their true thoughts, not just public relations rhetoric."

"Third, a report analyzing household entertainment spending habits. I need to know how much a typical Japan or United States family was willing to spend on a brand-new, groundbreaking game console in 1994 or 1995. US dollar 299? US dollar 399? Or US dollar 499? I need to see precise ranges and supporting data."

Fourth, a report on what games players expect to play on next-generation consoles.

Kobayashi wrote furiously, his forehead already slightly damp with sweat.

Each of these tasks is enormous and tedious, with a very clear objective, completely exceeding the scope of daily operations.

"Yes, Executive Director!" Kobayashi nodded emphatically, already realizing that a storm was brewing.

"Go ahead, make these reports detailed and patient. I'm not in a rush, but the research reports must be thorough and reliable." Nakayama Takuya waved his hand.

After the assistant left, the office returned to silence.

Nakayama Takuya leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh of relief.

He has already distributed the tasks; now, it's just a matter of proceeding step by step.

After finishing several important tasks, Nakayama Takuya glanced at his schedule, got up, and headed towards the Game Development Department.

He's going to see Hiroi Ouji.

Since that "preaching" meeting in his office a year ago, Hiroi Ouji has plunged headlong into the romance and smoke of the "Taisho Era" with the Sakura Wars project.

It's been a whole year.

Nakayama Takuya believes in leaving professional matters to professionals, so apart from overseeing project initiation, finalizing the core production team, and regular funding allocation, he hardly interferes in any other aspects.

Hiroi Ouji did not disappoint him.

Character design: Fujishima Kosuke.

Head screenwriter: Matsubara Hidenori.

Music, Tanaka Kohei.

Animation production, Madhouse.

A lineup that perfectly replicated the classic lineup from the previous life put Nakayama Takuya's mind at ease.

His visit today was merely a routine one, a perfunctory check-in for this person who frequently visits Sega Headquarters, his own company, and Madhouse.

A very busy person who works non-stop between three points.

Before even Nakayama Takuya could knock, faint yet stirring music drifted from the crack in the door to Hiroi Ouji's temporary office.

He pushed open the door and saw Hiroi Ouji wearing a pair of huge monitoring headphones, tapping his right hand on his crossed knee, his body swaying slightly to the beat. He was completely immersed in the world of music and didn't even notice someone coming in.

Nakayama Takuya coughed lightly.

Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, Hiroi Ouji sprang up from his chair. When he saw that it was Nakayama Takuya, he was first stunned, then his face broke out with a fanatical excitement.

"Special Secretary Nakayama! You've come at the perfect time! Quick! Come and hear this!"

Without a word, he took off his own headphones and slammed them onto Nakayama Takuya's head, his eyes gleaming with anticipation, like a child presenting a treasure.

The next second, the melody, a blend of rousing strings and wild rock electric guitar, swept through Nakayama Takuya's eardrums like a storm.

That's it!

<A Proclamation! The Imperial Chinese Army>!

This battle prelude, etched into our very DNA, is now displaying its unparalleled impact in its most primal and purest instrumental form.

The romance of the Taisho Era, the clash of cherry blossoms and swords, the girls' determination to protect the capital—all these emotions are perfectly blended into this short melody.

As the song ended, Nakayama Takuya slowly took off his headphones, a genuine smile appearing on his face.