Paper-Thin Flights of Fancy

This kind of "shortcut" was a stroke of genius, a game-changer in the early days of the next generation when technology was limited.

It retains the freshness of next-generation technology, perfectly masks its technological shortcomings, maintains the cute visual style that best suits Pokémon, and doesn't feel out of place.

"How do you play?" Nakayama Takuya continued scrolling down.

"It's no longer just simple turn-based battles." Ogasawara Eiji was clearly more confident in this aspect. "We've focused on 'adventure' and 'puzzle-solving.' The protagonists are no longer human trainers, but the Pokémon themselves. Pikachu can use Dengeki to activate mechanisms in abandoned factories, Charmander can burn away thorns blocking its path, and Squirtle can cross rivers or extinguish flames. Players need to switch between different Pokémon and utilize their abilities to clear levels."

The latter half of the proposal was filled with various level sketches.

Utilizing the properties of paper, there's the "sideways drilling through gaps" technique; using wind to blow paper characters to high places; and even designs that fold the entire scene like origami to create pathways.

This is not a simple children's game; it's clearly stuffing the essence of sandbox puzzle-solving into a fairytale shell.

"The story is simple: the protagonist's human trainer is kidnapped by the villain, Pokémon team up to rescue him," Ogasawara Eiji added. "It's a cliché, but it's enough for our target audience."

Takuya closed the proposal and tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

These guys stumbled upon a truth that Nintendo only realized during the N64 era: if the hardware isn't powerful enough, make up for it with art; if the polygon count isn't high enough, make up for it with creativity.

In an era when everyone wanted to flaunt the number of polygons on their foreheads, this unconventional "paper-thin" style became a breath of fresh air.

Moreover, this art style is extremely timeless; even after ten or twenty years, it will still not feel outdated.

"Well done," Takuya concluded.

Ogasawara Eiji let out a sudden sigh of relief, his face twitching slightly.

"However, I have a few requests." Takuya held up one finger. "First, the camera work. Since it's a 3D scene, exploration must be free enough, and camera transitions must be smooth. Don't let kids feel nauseous after ten minutes. If you can't do intelligent tracking well, lock the camera at the best viewing angle and give the player back control of the right analog stick."

"Understood, we plan to introduce a semi-fixed orbital perspective." Ogasawara Eiji quickly took notes.

"Secondly, the impact of the attacks," Takuya continued. "Even though they're two-dimensional characters, the battles can't be light and airy. When a Thunderbolt attack is thrown, the screen needs to vibrate, the sound effects need to explode, and the paper figures need to have that exaggerated 'snap' when they're hit. I want that exhilarating feeling of watching an American cartoon."

"Third, and most importantly," Takuya leaned forward, staring into Ogasawara Eiji's eyes, "Don't treat players like idiots. Being for children doesn't mean being mentally challenged. Puzzles need depth, but guidance needs to be intuitive. Don't use long text pop-ups telling players what to do; use the level design itself to 'hint' at them."

Ogasawara Eiji stopped writing and nodded solemnly. "We understand. Just like Mario never teaches you how to jump, but once you get the controller, you know to press the A button."

"Go ahead." Takuya and signed his name on the cover of the proposal. "If this game is successful, it will become Sega's ace for all ages. Even if the hardware capabilities are upgraded several generations later, this papercraft gameplay can continue to be developed as an independent branch."

Watching Ogasawara Eiji leave with the proposal as if it were a royal decree, Takuya leaned back in his chair, feeling great.

Even without Nakayama Takuya's involvement, Sega now has a development team capable of competing with Mario in the children's entry-level game market.

The next morning, just as Nakayama Takuya poured the remaining half-cup of cold coffee from the night before into the sink, there was a knock on his office door.

It was Rieko Kodama pushed open the door and came in again.

Takuya paused for a moment, then put down his Mark: "Wasn't the budget for <Phantasy Star III> signed off last night?"

If the goal is to secure additional funding, the timing is not ideal.

"I have enough money. I didn't come for that." Rieko Kodama turned to the side, revealing the several men who had been standing behind her.

These people looked somewhat familiar, but they all looked dejected, as if they had just woken up from a hangover, and the smell of smoke on them could be detected from two meters away.

The leader was a burly man with a full beard, but at that moment he stared at the pattern on the carpet like a schoolboy who had done something wrong.

"This is—" Takuya was a little taken aback.

"Uchida Makoto, a key member of the First Development Department." Rieko Kodama unceremoniously slapped the burly man hard on the back, causing him to stumble before finally looking up at Takuya. "We used to work together in the arcade team. They were the ones who came up with <Altered Beast> and <Golden Axe>."

Takuya suddenly realized.

No wonder it looks familiar; it's a key player in Sega's arcade games of the 1980s.

"What, did you come here to catch up?" Takuya walked around the desk and gestured for them to sit down.

Those people didn't dare to sit down and remained standing awkwardly.

Rieko Kodama sighed, glared at them with exasperation, and turned to Takuya, saying, "Last night after work I went to an izakaya and ran into these guys drinking themselves into oblivion. After a few cups of sake, they were all crying like children who had lost their toys."

"Big Sister, stop talking—" Uchida Makoto blushed and tried to cover Kodama's mouth, but was glared at and stopped.

"What's there to hide? If you're afraid of losing face, don't wail in an izakaya." Rieko Kodama crossed her arms and spoke very quickly. "Ever since <Altered Beast>, they've made two side-scrolling beat 'em ups, but the market response has been lukewarm. Now the whole company is aiming for next-gen, and these seniors who are used to 2D pixel games are completely panicked. Last night, Uchida even told me he wanted to hand in his resignation and go back to his hometown to farm."

Takuya understood.

This is a typical example of "technology transition anxiety".

Former champions, when faced with unfamiliar 3D technology, experienced a sense of powerlessness and fear that could truly drive them mad.

The sense of disparity is especially devastating when you see a genius Yu Suzuki making such a splash with 3D technology.

"Farming?" Takuya looked at Uchida Makoto and suddenly laughed. "Your hands are for coding, isn't it a waste to use them to hold a hoe?"

Uchida Makoto scratched his messy hair, his voice hoarse. "Executive Director, we want to do it too, but our brains are completely blank. Last night we tried to come up with a few 3D designs, but the more we thought about them, the more awkward it looked, like forcibly stretching the Golden Axe into three dimensions. We—maybe we really are outdated."