Publicity Strategy
If they win, it will be a revolution in the film industry; if they lose, Universal Pictures ' financial reports for the next five years will be a dismal loss.
Therefore, they interfered with Sega's marketing and distribution, fearing that these game developers would lower the film's prestige.
"Let them be, Tom." Nakayama Takuya patted the United States CEO on the shoulder. "This time we don't need to attack, we just need a ride."
"Hitchhiking?"
"Steven Spielberg is the best salesman in the world. When the movie is released, the global media will go crazy reporting on those resurrected prehistoric behemoths. At that time, audiences will walk out of the theater with dinosaurs on their minds. They will be eager to vent, eager to touch everything related to dinosaurs." Takuya stopped and glanced at the logo on the top of the Universal Building. "At that moment, they will find that the most eye-catching thing on the shelves is Sega's Jurassic Park. That's enough."
This is precisely why Takuya previously acquired the rights to dinosaur model merchandise in East Asia from Universal Pictures and generously transferred them to Bandai.
This move was very well thought out.
On the surface, Sega was simply doing Bandai a favor by helping them secure this lucrative opportunity.
In reality, this left Bandai president Yamashina Makoto with a huge debt of gratitude to Sega, even though Bandai had already paid Sega a sufficient reward.
Dinosaur toys will definitely sell like hotcakes in the coming year. The more Bandai earns, the more Yamashina Makoto's heart will lean towards Sega.
If the two companies were to discuss a merger in the future, this "dinosaur dividend" would be the last straw that broke the camel's back.
"Speaking of which, Bandai is moving very quickly," Takuya casually remarked. "President Yamashina just called me the day before yesterday. Their production lines are running at full capacity, and they've even suspended some Gundam model production schedules to make way for Dinosaurs."
"A wise decision," Bernard commented. "Gundams appear every year, but real dinosaurs only return once every 65 million years."
When the three entered the conference room, the head of marketing and distribution from Universal Pictures was already waiting there, with legal documents and review checklists piled up on the table.
Although there are many restrictions, this "conservatism" is precisely a form of protection.
Bernard had previously analyzed with Tom privately that for a film destined to go down in history, any fancy marketing would be superfluous.
Sega needs to do is to "play it safe" and steadily absorb the huge influx of viewership from the movies.
If the game is of high quality, word-of-mouth will naturally spread.
None of the three people present doubted this point.
Although Mark Cearney was transferred to Japan, the version he left behind—the Mega Drive version that used inverse kinematics to make the Velociraptor's movements incredibly smooth—was itself a work of cutting-edge technology.
The midday sun shone directly on the glass facade of Universal Pictures, making it somewhat dazzling.
The conference room door opened, and Steven Spielberg walked in. The Hollywood director didn't look like a tyrant on set with a multi-million dollar budget at this moment; he looked more like a middle-aged office worker who had just finished a marathon. His tie hung loosely around his neck, and his eyes were slightly puffy.
He didn't bother with pleasantries, but went straight to the small refrigerator in the corner, grabbed a can of Coca-Cola, pulled the tab with a click, and took a big gulp.
With a long, uninhibited burp, Spielberg slumped back in his leather chair and let out a long sigh, "God bless caffeine and sugar."
Seeing his old friend's state, Bernard Stolar couldn't help but tease, "Steven, you weren't this disheveled when we were filming Jaws, you were in the water every day. What, were those talk show hosts harder to deal with than mechanical sharks?"
"Much more troublesome than a shark, Bernard," Spielberg said with a wry smile, rubbing his temples. "This morning's interview was practically an interrogation. The host kept trying to get me to pull out a full-body picture of the dinosaur, and I had to hold onto my pocket like a miser. I had to tell the audience, 'Hey, this thing is awesome,' but I couldn't let them see exactly how cool it was. This feeling of teasing without giving anything was torture."
This "hunger marketing" strategy was a directive issued by the top management of Universal.
Dinosaurs were their nuclear weapons; they would never remove the dust cover until the moment of detonation.
"However, not everyone buys into this mystique." Spielberg changed the subject, crumpling the empty can and tossing it into the trash. "These past few days, a few flies have been buzzing around my ears. Someone in a column dug up old dirt, dredging up Atari's 'E. T.' buried in the desert and whipping it, saying that movie-to-game adaptations are always garbage," implying that the Jurassic Park game would also be a joke.
"Ha!" Tom Kalinske let out a short, cold laugh, leaning forward with disdain. "No need to guess, it was definitely those guys in gray suits from Redmond who did it. Minoru Arakawa is only good for this; he can't beat the Mega Drive on the battlefield, so he resorts to conspiracy theories. Typical Nintendo style."
In the United States, the war between Sega and Nintendo has long been fierce, with their mutual attacks in the media becoming a daily occurrence.
Spielberg shrugged, clearly unconcerned. "Universal's Public Relations Department isn't going to be trifled with either. They just presented them with the sales figures for ' The Clear and Present Danger ' and ' Hook.' Facts speak louder than words, and those guys shut up instantly."
Nakayama Takuya, gently tapped the black cassette tape on the table, his voice steady and resolute.
"Steven, <E. T.> was a disaster because it was a rushed piece of garbage from Atari. This time, it's Sega making the game. Sega has invested over a year in this project; they won't let you down."
He stood up and his gaze swept over everyone present.
Those who were waiting to see the joke would soon find that they didn't even have the energy to laugh anymore because they would be busy picking up their jerk from the floor.
Looking at Takuya's self-assured confidence, Spielberg's weariness faded considerably, replaced by the excitement unique to a creator.
"I love your wild side, Takuya." Spielberg stood up and gestured for him to proceed. "Let's go to the Universal meeting room. I can't wait to see what Mark has done with our dinosaur."
In the conference room at Universal Pictures headquarters, the curtains were drawn tightly shut, blocking out the harsh California afternoon sun.
Tom Kalinske skillfully connected the black Sega-CD player to the projector.