Controller Improvements

Yuji Naka also joined in. The three tech enthusiasts, of different nationalities and backgrounds, instantly found common ground because of the same pile of silicon chips and code.

The fervent atmosphere made it seem as if this wasn't a dull laboratory, but a toy house overflowing with treasures.

Nakayama Takuya stood to the side, watching the three heads huddled together whispering and occasionally bursting out exclamations that only they could understand, and a smile involuntarily crept onto his lips.

This is the dream team he wanted.

"Executive Director, the prototype of the controller you requested has just been completed." Department Head Nakamura approached, holding a somewhat rough-looking gray plastic shell. "It's complete with dual joysticks and trigger buttons, just as you requested."

Takuya took the controller; it was heavy and felt quite solid. He gripped it, his thumb instinctively resting on the raised joystick on the left, and gave it a gentle push.

Click.

A crisp sound of a microswitch clicking.

Takuya frowned and tried turning around again.

"Click, click, click, click."

That segmented, stiff sensation traveled straight from my fingertips to my forehead.

This wasn't the silky smooth stick-pressing experience he wanted; instead, it felt like bending a miniature arcade stick.

"Screwdriver." Takuya placed the handle on the table and held out his hand.

Minister Nakamura paused for a moment, then quickly handed over a small screwdriver.

Takuya skillfully removed a few screws from the back and lifted the back cover.

Sure enough, the bottom of the joystick is connected to a ring of microswitches. The structure is simple and crude; it's just a D-pad with a different skin.

"Nakamura, this isn't right." Takuya pointed to the four microswitches. "These are digital joysticks; they can only recognize 'push' and 'no push,' and at most, they can handle eight directions. I need an analog joystick."

"Analog joysticks?" Nakamura adjusted his glasses, somewhat hesitantly. "The kind with potentiometers? But that's a specialized type. Those structures are not only expensive, but also prone to drifting, and their lifespan isn't as long as a microswitch—"

"Cost isn't the issue; the user experience is the core." Takuya interrupted him, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Imagine the 3D game we're making. When the game character is running, a light push of the joystick is a slow walk, and a heavy push is a sprint. If it's a digital joystick, the character is either standing still or running at full speed; there's no middle ground. That makes the character's operability far too simplistic."

He picked up the disassembled handle and shook it. "If it's a racing game, and the player wants precise control of the steering angle, how do you operate this switch that only has 'full left' and 'full right' controls? I need linear input, accurate to 0 to 255."

Analog signals of varying strength.

Although Minister Nakamura didn't understand why such meticulousness was necessary, he had one redeeming quality: he listened to advice. He immediately pulled out his notebook and jotted it down. "Understood. Change it to a dual-axis potentiometer structure to support linear analog signal input. I'll have someone redo it right away."

Having resolved the controller issue, Nakamura turned to another page of his notes. "There's another urgent matter. SGI replied; they accepted our customization request. Although the price is tight, it's still within budget. However, they're urging us to finalize the CPU's instruction set as soon as possible, otherwise the tape-out schedule will be significantly delayed."

"We can only rely on them for this." Takuya pointed to the trio who were already chatting enthusiastically.

At this point, Mark Cerny had completely taken over the keyboard.

"This R3000 prototype is stable, but it's too conservative in floating-point operations!" Mark shouted without turning his head as he typed code. "We must cut out those useless industrial instructions and free up transistors for faster geometry calculations!"

Suzuki, run your Model 2 test program. I need to see where the bottleneck is under full load!

"It's already running!" Yu Suzuki stared at the monitor. "Watch the memory bandwidth; this could be a trap!"

"Then expand the bus! Let the SGI guys figure it out!"

On the screen, lines of green code scrolled by like a waterfall.

Takuya leaned over to take a look, and the screen full of register addresses and hexadecimal code gave him a headache.

Everyone has their own expertise; as a novice transmigrator, he shouldn't meddle in such a battle of titans.

Nakayama Takuya was about to leave the Hardware Development Department, he heard Yu Suzuki's voice behind him.

"Wait, Takuya."

Takuya paused, turning around to look.

Yu Suzuki was still holding the marker in his hand, but his gaze shifted from the code on the screen to him, and he pointed with his other finger to the handle that had been dismantled into eight pieces on the table.

Have you figured out how you're going to use this so-called "simulated joystick"?

"Didn't we just say that?" Takuya, somewhat puzzled, "For more precise 3D operation."

"I understand the logic," Yu Suzuki said bluntly, adjusting his glasses. "But the only project planned for the Model 2 board so far is my <Virtua Fighter 2>. Neither movement nor attacks require linear input. For fighting games, 0 and 1 digital signals are the most accurate. Adding this simulation device would only increase the probability of misoperation; I see no need for it whatsoever."

Yuji Naka, who was watching the commotion with a coffee cup in hand, nodded in agreement upon hearing this.

Indeed, the D-pad is sufficient for Sonic's parkour in a 2D scrolling world, even more so than the analog stick.

If there is a 3D Sonic in the future, Sonic, who pursues a sense of speed, will not need linear input; he can simply max out the input.

"So," Yu Suzuki spread his hands, looking at Takuya with a matter-of-fact air, "Since you insist on equipping the new console with such an expensive input device, then you have to give me a game that matches it. A game that's unplayable without this joystick, or one that would be half as fun."

Takuya chuckled in exasperation, turned around, leaned against the doorframe, and crossed his arms. "Suzuki- san, I'm the executive director in charge of operations, not a wishing machine under Tokyo Tower. Are you asking me for a writing assignment?"

"You could say that," Yu Suzuki replied without a hint of embarrassment, even with a touch of self-righteousness. "That's been my impression ever since you took over. What's limiting your game development has never been creativity, but rather the hardware of that era and that damned code. We're currently working on the hardware bottleneck, and Mark and Yuji Naka are handling the code. You just need to pour out what's in your head."

This flattery was both awkward and loud, yet it also revealed a sincerity unique to tech geeks.

Even Mark Cerny, who was standing nearby, stopped what he was doing, turned his chair around with interest, and whistled. "Hey, Takuya, I'm curious too. What idea do you have to maximize the functionality of this joystick?"