Game Ratings

The sound of a lighter lighting a cigarette came from the other end of the phone, followed by a long silence.

Tom is a marketing genius, but he's not stupid; a slightly dull political sense doesn't mean he has none.

"Damn it," Tom cursed, "You mean we'll become targets?"

"It's not just becoming a target, it's already standing on the execution ground. Those hypocrites at Nintendo are just looking for an opportunity to label us. They'll definitely say that Sega is a 'black market' that specializes in producing electronic drugs, while they are the true guardians of 'family fun'."

Takuya's words were like a bucket of ice water, completely extinguishing Tom's joy at the sales figures.

"This is my dereliction of duty." Takuya opportunistically took some of the blame, even though it was a product of its time. "The people in charge of the review back then focused too much on gameplay and ignored the cultural risks. I was too busy at the time and didn't oversee these games much. But now is not the time for a debriefing meeting, Tom. We need to save ourselves."

"Remove from shelves?"

"No, taking it down is tantamount to admitting a mistake, and we might as well make this money." Takuya leaned back in his chair, the prototype of the ESRB (Entertainment Software Rating Board) of later generations flashing through his mind. "We need to be ahead of the government. Since no one else is in charge, we'll take charge ourselves."

"Manage it yourself?"

"Yes. Assemble a team in Redwood City, contact EA, Activision, even small studios with just a few people, and all our Japan counterparts. Tell them that if they don't want to be killed by those old men in the government through legislation, they need to band together quickly." Takuya spoke rapidly, "We need to establish an independent Entertainment Software Rating Board. Label games, tell parents which are suitable for all ages and which are only suitable for adults. Give the choice back to parents, and we'll be invincible."

"That sounds like a good idea." Tom's voice regained its energy. "Sega taking the lead?"

"No, absolutely not." Takuya immediately rejected the idea. "Sega is a giant in Japan, but in the eyes of United States, it's still an outsider. If we jump too high, not only will Nintendo sabotage us, but even the remnants of Atari in Japan will feel that we're meddling. This committee must appear to be a 'self-organized' group from the United States industry, preferably with a highly respected United States as its face, while we only contribute money and effort behind the scenes."

"You're right," Tom laughed. "If we step in, they really can pull off those underhanded tricks."

"That's called business acumen." Takuya chuckled, casually picking up the DVD of "Night Trap" from the table. "Oh, right, there's something else. I just received a copy of ' Night Trap ' from Digital Pictures, and this thing is a disaster."

"It's rotten?"

"It's bad, but the real problem is that it's full of girls running around in their pajamas and voyeuristic perspectives. If this gets released alongside Mortal Kombat, it'll be a killer combination of violence and pornography—nothing can save us." Takuya twirled the disc in his hand like a dart. "Include it in the first batch of ratings, even if it's just labeled '17+'. Also, send someone to appease the developers. Even though this game is rubbish, the full-motion video (FMV) technology is innovative. Don't scare people away; we might need it later."

"Understood." The sound of pens scratching on paper came from Tom's end. "I'll get on it right away. Looks like I'll have to work overtime again tonight."

"It's worth the extra work so we don't get yelled at or insulted in the Capitol Building."

After hanging up the phone, Takuya rubbed his throbbing temples.

The first step in crisis public relations has been taken.

Three days later, the overseas call rang again on time.

Tom Kalinske brought both good and bad news.

The good news is that the United States manufacturers immediately became extremely nervous upon hearing that they would be subject to legislation and regulation by those old men in the government who didn't understand games.

The proposal to form a "rating committee" was met with almost universal approval. Even EA and Activision, which are no longer content with being just game developers, behaved themselves like quails this time, since no one wanted their livelihood to be taken away.

But there was clearly something else in Tom's tone.

"We uncovered some unexpected intelligence while contacting the old Atari faction." Tom lowered his voice, revealing a hint of caution, "That old lion isn't quite dead yet; they're preparing a major attack."

Nakayama Takuya stopped twirling the pen in his hand. "For example?"

"Codenamed Jaguar." It's said the project was initiated as early as 1991. They originally planned to develop a 16-bit machine codenamed "Panther" to compete with us in the market. However, seeing the fierce competition between the Mega Drive and Super Famicom, they felt they couldn't get involved and simply cancelled the project. Now they plan to skip ahead and develop a 32-bit architecture, or even claim it's 64-bit. Intelligence suggests they'll have to launch it as early as this year, or at the latest next year, albeit with great difficulty."

The sound of papers turning over came through the receiver; Tom had clearly done his homework on this potential competitor. His tone was somewhat grave. "Takuya, if the specifications are accurate, this thing's paper performance is frightening. Should we adjust the hardware development schedule?"

"Need not."

Takuya answered decisively, even taking the time to sip his coffee.

When he heard the words "Atari" and "new console" put together, what came to mind wasn't some terrifying monster, but rather that anti-human controller that looked like a landline phone keypad, and that infamous hype phrase "Do the Math."

This company is indeed a pioneer in the gaming industry, but the current Atari has long been turned into an empty shell by the Tramiel Family, only knowing how to squeeze out the remaining value.

In its previous life, this console, named "Jaguar," was a complete joke; it was utterly useless except for its difficulty in development and its meager game library.

"Tom, have you been too tense lately?" Takuya leaned back in his chair, his tone as casual as if discussing dinner. "Do you really think a company that can bury garbage like <ET> in the desert and still hasn't learned to respect developers and players can turn things around just by piling on a few impressive hardware specs?"

There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

"Technology has never been Atari's weakness; their mindset is," Takuya added mercilessly. "As long as their management maintains their old ways, forget about 32-bit consoles; even if you gave them a NASA supercomputer, they could still make junk that would make gamers want to smash their TVs. That's their corporate DNA."

After a brief silence, Tom suddenly burst out laughing, and the tense anxiety instantly dissipated in the airwaves.

Two and a half years of Ji Fukunkun