Sony, Unwilling to Be Left Out

A few suppressed laughs echoed in the conference room.

Although Nobuyuki Idei also felt that Panasonic's design was somewhat incongruous and overly focused on the concept of a "living room terminal," the business data was undeniably solid.

"Kutaragi- kun, mockery aside, the graphics are indeed better than our PlayStation." Nobuyuki Idei flipped through the analysis report in his hand. "That racing game, <Crash "NBurn>, does have impressive graphics. For players who haven't seen much of the world, this visual impact can certainly be stunning, but these players can't afford it."

"Indeed." Ken Kutaragi snorted, abruptly standing up and walking to the whiteboard, grabbing Mark. "US dollar 699 isn't something the average player can afford."

He wrote "$699" heavily on the whiteboard, then drew a big X, the pen tip making a screeching sound as it scraped against the whiteboard.

Norio Ohga sat in the main seat, still holding that not-so-hot cup of tea in his hand.

He stared at the number calmly, as if it weren't an astonishing price tag, but simply a list of ordinary parameters.

"Hawkins is only focused on attracting software companies with low royalty fees, and he has indeed attracted quite a few," Norio Ohga slowly, his voice not loud, but it silenced everyone's discussion. "However, it is precisely this three- US dollar royalty fee that shifts all the profit pressure onto the hardware companies themselves."

Ryoji Chubachi hesitated, his brow furrowed. "President, based on the bill of materials submitted by Kutaragi, the current cost of our machines to achieve the expected performance specifications is probably no less than US dollar 300. If we continue with a price war on that basis, what will the board say—"

"Who said we're going to make money by selling machines?"

Norio Ohga put down his teacup, his gaze sweeping over everyone present. His tone was as calm as if he were discussing lunch, "Selling hardware at a loss might be taboo at Nintendo, but Sony isn't Nintendo, nor is it Panasonic. We have plenty of money, and plenty of patience."

He held up a finger and tapped it lightly on the table. "What we want is market share, the widespread adoption of the CD-ROM standard. As long as PlayStation is rolled out, every disc sold will generate a steady stream of royalties into our pockets. In comparison, the few tens of US dollar lost on each console are just 'entry tickets' for the players." As long as we can squeeze Nintendo and Sega out of the market, Sony can afford this loss.

These words resonated deeply, setting the tone for Sony's foray into the gaming industry—a scorched-earth strategy.

"What we're going to do is provide high-performance at a price slightly below cost." Ken Kutaragi's eyes were practically overflowing with fervor; he loved this feeling of pursuing the ultimate regardless of cost.

Nobuyuki Idei nodded and closed the folder. "Now that the strategy is set, what about publicity? Panasonic has already taken the initiative, and the media is all hyping up the 3D0. Should we release something in response? Even if it's just a concept image."

"Talking is useless; players only believe what they see."

Ken Kutaragi was clearly prepared. "Although the mainframe isn't completely finalized, the logic architecture of the graphics chip has been finalized. Give me some time, and I'll have the technical department do a real-world demo."

"What kind of demonstration?" Ryoji Chubachi leaned forward curiously. "Racing? Or airplane?"

"Dinosaur."

Ken Kutaragi smirked, revealing a set of white teeth, his smile carrying a hint of menacing ferocity. "Wasn't Spielberg's * Jurassic Park * a huge hit? Well, let's be a Tyrannosaurus Rex. I'll show the world that dinosaurs that come out of the PlayStation are just as formidable."

Looking at his beloved general's confident demeanor, Norio Ohga finally smiled with satisfaction.

"Then go do it, Kutaragi- kun."

While Panasonic's REAL-3DO attracted considerable attention from gamers after its release, and its performance in Crash "NBurn" earned it initial recognition from those who were interested, its price of US dollar 699 deterred many gamers.

Just as the sales of REAL-3DO were lukewarm and it hadn't had time to gain a foothold in the market, another game console manufacturer was not to be outdone.

Atari felt their opportunity had arrived.

This old lion, once considered "dead," looked at 3D0's half-dead state and felt a surge of pride, thinking, "He can be replaced."

According to Jack Trammell, co-founder of Tramiel Technology, since Panasonic is failing, the vacuum of technological transition should naturally be filled by Atari, which he has acquired.

The San Francisco was already a bit chilly in late October, but this did nothing to dampen the fervor at Atari headquarters.

This old lion, who had buried millions of cassette tapes in the desert, finally let out a long-awaited roar under the spur of Jack Trammell.

The mainframe, codenamed "Jaguar," was officially declared complete, and the Tramiel Family couldn't wait to start their publicity campaign, attempting to seize the high ground in public opinion before the Christmas shopping season.

With the release of Game of Thrones (GG), Atari's Marketing Department clearly understood the importance of a simple and direct approach. They didn't showcase any fancy graphics or discuss any profound gameplay; instead, they simply presented consumers with a bunch of numbers.

"Do the Math!"

This slogan, like a provocation, was printed in the most prominent position on every poster.

On the TV, the narrator, in an almost brainwashing tone, roared, "The Sega Genesis was 16-bit, the Super Nintendo was 16-bit, even the Panasonic 3D0 that sold for US dollar 699 was at most 32-bit. But we, the Atari Jaguar, are 64-bit!"

64 is greater than 32, and even greater than 16.

This is the math problem Atari posed to its players.

The logic is outrageously simple: the larger the number, the more powerful the machine, and the more money you should pay for it.

However, the market did not immediately erupt as Atari had anticipated.

For this generation of gamers, the name "Atari" represents not only the glory of Pong, but also the devastating "Great Crash" and the fear of being dominated by countless low-quality games.

Although Trammell took over the mess from Warner as early as 1984, reorganized the company into Tramiel Technology, and attempted to salvage its reputation by launching low-priced computers and new mainframes.

But in the eyes of players, Atari, now owned by a different company, is still the culprit that buried E. T. in the New Mexico desert.

Once trust collapses, rebuilding it is harder than climbing to heaven.

Sega Headquarters, Tokyo.

The thermal paper ejected from the overseas fax machine was still warm, printed with Atari's menacing "Jaguar" logo and the enormous, provocative slogan—"Do the Math."

Nakayama Takuya casually picked up the few sheets of paper, shook them, and they made a crisp sound.

His memory of the mainframe was already hazy. After searching his mind for a long time, all that remained was the anti-human "landline phone" handle and its miserable fate of being unwanted in the second-hand market.

"Executive Director, that's 64 people."

Hisao Oguchi had recently taken office, stood in front of his desk with a tense expression.

He looked at the data in Takuya's hand, a hint of anxiety in his voice, "If the parameters are accurate, their processing power theoretically far surpasses MD, even exceeding the next-generation console we're planning—"