Helping "Pirates" Localize

"Precisely because it's Sega, we need to think long-term." Takuya pulled out a piece of paper and wrote the words "localization" on it. "China kids can't understand Japanese, playing RPGs is like reading gibberish. You extract the text from Phantasy Star or Shining in the Darkness, even leaking the Traditional Chinese drafts we made in Taiwan through unofficial channels to those pirates."

"Tell them that as long as they translate the game into Chinese and burn it onto cartridges, it's a money-printing machine."

Tanaka wiped the stains from the corner of his mouth, his brow furrowed. "But if we do this, we won't get a single penny of copyright fees; we'll just be doing all the work for someone else."

"Just because we can't get them now doesn't mean we won't be able to in the future." Takuya stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to Tanaka. "The current China market is a wasteland. Genuine game cartridges cost several thousand Japanese yen, which is several months' wages for an average worker there. They simply can't sell them. But what if that Nine-Tattoo Dragon was smart enough to distribute these machines and cheap pirated Chinese-language game cartridges to small shops or toy stores in the mainland?"

Takuya turned around, his eyes gleaming. "Charge by the hour. Like renting videotapes, five cents or a dollar for half an hour. Turn the console into a cheap public entertainment facility."

"And they can also collect deposits and rents from these shops, and then replace them with a new batch every now and then, ensuring that these shops are happy to do this kind of business. They can also lend out more money with the deposits they collect. You see, I've thought of everything for them so thoroughly—" At this point, Takuya shrugged.

Tanaka is a smart man; his mind works very quickly.

He imagined the scene: children after school sitting around a dimly lit shop, staring at a TV screen connected to an MD player, clutching crumpled coins, excitedly shouting that they could play Sonic or Streets of Rage for a while.

"This is the brand's official stamp." Takuya snapped his fingers. "When these kids grow up with Sega games, in their subconscious, video games are synonymous with Sega. Ten or twenty years from now, when they have the purchasing power, that's when we'll reap the rewards of their nostalgia."

"Furthermore," Takuya's tone shifted, turning icy, "there's a hard and fast rule to this deal. Tell Nine-Tattoo Dragon that no matter how much he messes things up, how he imitates, or how he modifies them in mainland China, we'll turn a blind eye. But if even one counterfeit machine or one pirated cartridge flows back to Hong Kong, Taiwan, Macau, or appears in other Southeast Asia markets—"

Takuya made a throat-slitting gesture. "I will have United States's top legal team chase them to the mainland. China is currently seeking to join the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade, and what it fears most is negative events like international intellectual property disputes that could affect their re-entry into GATT."

At that point, neither the authorities nor the underworld will be able to protect him.

This carrot-and-stick approach is executed with unparalleled skill.

They both leveraged the strong penetration capabilities of pirates to seize market gaps and protected Sega's interests in other mature markets with strict territorial restrictions.

"As for the loss of hardware technology—" Takuya chuckled and sat back down in his chair, "The Mega Drive is already outdated technology; let them copy it. When the next generation comes, disc encryption technology and complex 3D architecture won't be easily copied by a few small workshops. By then, players accustomed to Sega's operating logic and game style will naturally become our most loyal fans. Even if discs are relatively easy to pirate, they can't make a console, so we'll at least gain another console market."

Tanaka closed his notebook and took a deep breath.

Looking at the young executive in front of him, he felt a surge of inexplicable awe.

This isn't doing business; it's clearly playing chess, and a very complex game of chess that has been planned for over ten years.

"I understand." Tanaka stood up, straightened his collar, and the panic and hesitation on his face vanished, replaced by a resolute determination to carry out the mission. "This matter is of great importance, and messages can easily be misinterpreted. If we let our subordinates handle it, and they don't fully understand your intentions, turning tacit approval into official authorization, or ignoring the strict prohibition on returning, then we'll be in trouble."

"I'll go to Hong Kong myself."

Takuya nodded approvingly.

The Japan are rigid in their work but also like to take initiative. When things are relayed down through layers of management, even good instructions can be misinterpreted.

This kind of operation, which operates in a gray area, definitely requires a trusted confidant like Tanaka to control the situation.

"Go. When you see that Nine-Tattoo Dragon, remember to give him a message." Takuya picked up the pen on the table and twirled it between his fingers. "Tell him that Sega wants to be his friend; let's see if he dares to accept this enormous fortune."

Tanaka nodded emphatically, then turned and walked out of the office.

After seeing Tanaka off, Nakayama Takuya loosened his tie slightly, picked up his nearly empty coffee cup, and decided to take a stroll through the development teams on each floor to clear his head.

Currently, all of Sega's development teams are basically in line with the statistics he has, and development tasks have been assigned to them.

Nakayama Takuya and stopped along the way, eventually wandering to the entrance of Development Group Three.

This place can be considered his "place of origin," and also his most important branch within Sega's inner circle.

Pushing open the door, a wave of heat mixed with the clatter of keyboards hit me.

Because they have been in charge of various projects directly assigned by Nakayama Takuya, as well as the currently developing <The King of Fighters 2>, the size of Development Group Three has expanded like an inflating balloon.

The once spacious office is now crammed with workstations, and the aisles are so narrow you can barely squeeze through sideways; it looks like an illegal pyramid scheme den.

At a glance, the newly recruited programmers were working hard, their fingers flying across the keyboard, and the code on the screen flowing like a waterfall. The Art Team was also extremely busy.

However, when Takuya shifted his gaze to the "core area" deep inside the office, his eyebrows twitched involuntarily.

The atmosphere there was completely different from the bustling activity outside; it could even be described as eerily peaceful.

Shimizu, the team leader, was currently lounging with his legs propped up on his desk, his entire body tucked into his ergonomic chair, a copy of the Tokyo Sports openly in his hand, intently studying the Marseille section.

The other veteran members nearby were equally impressive; some were twirling pens in a daze, some were drawing turtles on white paper with markers, and one was even wearing headphones, nodding his head, it was hard to tell if he was listening to heavy metal or dozing off.

These guys, aren't they living a little too comfortably?