The First Game Music Concert
If you can't afford a watch worth tens of thousands of yuan, or go to a concert that costs tens of thousands of yuan, can't you at least spend a couple thousand yuan to buy a genuine CD to support your cause?
This is not just about buying music; it's about voting for your own interests and proving that you are also a member of this "high art" appreciation group.
Tickets for the Tokyo show sold out in just two weeks.
Fortunately, scalpers had never seen video game music used in concerts before, so they didn't dare to buy tickets, and most of them ended up in the hands of die-hard gamers.
At Sega Headquarters, Nakayama Takuya looked through the latest ticketing report and couldn't help but shake his head.
"These days, selling nostalgia is way more profitable than selling game consoles." He handed the report to Sakaguchi Hironobu, who was drinking coffee across from him. "Looks like your company's Uematsu is about to become a big star."
Sakaguchi Hironobu put down his cup, his face beaming with undisguised smugness, yet he feigned composure. "Music is the soul of games, after all. But Nakayama- san, isn't the pre-order volume for that record a bit too exaggerated? Over 50,000 pre-orders alone?"
"That's all thanks to how well you made the game and the music," Nakayama Takuya pointed out the window. "Those are the deepest memories for players; otherwise, why would they willingly buy tickets?"
Sakaguchi Hironobu chuckled and handed over two VIP tickets to the concert, "I hope Executive Director Nakayama will grace us with his presence."
Nakayama Takuya nodded and accepted the ticket.
Friday evening, December 10th.
The night wind in Tokyo swirled a few withered leaves across the ground, but the entrance to the main concert hall of the Tokyo University of Music was surprisingly lively, even more so than a summer festival.
Luxury cars and taxis lined up in a long queue at the entrance, and well-dressed gentlemen and ladies mingled with young people in outlandish costumes, creating a strange postmodern scene.
Nakayama Takuya, arm in arm with his wife Eri, walked through the slightly crowded people toward the VIP passage.
Eri wore an elegant kimono today, which made her stand out gracefully in the noisy crowd.
She looked around curiously, and when the sunlight fell on a girl hugging a half-life-sized Chocobo plushie, she couldn't help but cover her mouth and chuckle. She leaned close to her husband's ear and whispered, "Takuya, is this really that solemn classical concert hall? I feel like I've accidentally wandered into Akihabara anime convention."
"That's called cultural invasion." Nakayama Takuya smoothed a stray hair from his wife's sideburns, a hint of smugness in his voice. "When video games become the common language of this generation, there will only be more of this kind of scene in the future."
The two took their seats in the VIP section on the second floor, where the view was the best.
Looking around, the usually solemn stands were now packed to the brim.
The front row was filled with industry leaders, and you could even spot a few familiar faces from rival companies, while the back row was mostly filled with younger people.
Someone wearing Crono red wig was gesturing to a friend they had just met about something famous.
The hall that originally belonged to Mozart and Beethoven was filled tonight with a restless energy called "passion".
As the lights dimmed, the noise vanished instantly, as if the power had been cut off, and the two-thousand-person venue became so quiet that you could hear someone breathing.
The stage spotlight shone on, and a figure strode onto the conductor's platform.
It wasn't the usual tuxedo, nor did it have that aloofness of an artist.
Nobuo Uematsu sported his signature mustache, wore round glasses, and surprisingly, was dressed in a somewhat dated dark patterned haori (traditional Japanese jacket and kimono), with the wide cuffs neatly tied at the back with white sashes, giving him a capable yet somewhat serious appearance.
According to Sakaguchi Hironobu, this outfit is a family heirloom treasured by the Uematsu family, and only by wearing it can one give the right commanding presence.
A round of applause erupted from the audience.
Nobuo Uematsu did not pick up the baton, but instead turned around and took the microphone from the emcee.
His gaze swept across the VIP seating area on the second floor, finally locking onto that familiar figure. He then strode down from the platform and went straight to the edge of the stage below the VIP seating area.
This move left the audience somewhat bewildered, and they all craned their necks to look.
"Tonight, before the music begins, I'd like to introduce a very special friend." Nobuo Uematsu tilted his head back, his voice carrying throughout the venue through the Mike, "Without him, there would be no Chrono Trigger, and certainly no concert tonight. He is Sega's managing director, the father of Pokémon, and the genius who always manages to turn crazy ideas into reality—Mr Nakayama Takuya!"
The spotlight instantly shone on the private room on the second floor.
The sudden "public execution" stunned Nakayama Takuya for a moment.
He had originally planned to listen quietly, but he never expected Uematsu this stunt.
After a brief silence, thunderous applause erupted from the audience.
That was a heartfelt approval.
Who here hasn't played Sonic? Who hasn't been addicted to Pokémon? Who hasn't been captivated by Chrono Trigger?
That 40-point miracle was truly astounding?
"Nakayama Mulberry!"
Suddenly, someone in the back row of the audience shouted, their voice so loud it could be heard even on the second floor, almost tearfully. "Please, Executive Director! Spare our wallets! These past few months have been all about collector's editions, watches, concerts, and you've even booked up our New Year's money for next year!"
This wail was like lighting a powder keg, and the scene instantly erupted in laughter.
"Yeah! That's too ruthless!"
"Could you make the MD version cheaper?"
Give me back my secret stash of money!
The cheers and jeers rose and fell, but there was no malice in them; instead, they conveyed a sense of banter and intimacy between old friends.
This is what players are like: they accuse you of robbing them, but then obediently stuff money into your pocket, and even ask if you have enough.
Eri could no longer hold back. She turned her head and buried her face in her husband's shoulder, laughing so hard that her shoulders shook. She completely disregarded the decorum of a company president's daughter.
Nakayama Takuya sighed helplessly and stood up under the gaze of more than two thousand pairs of eyes in the audience.
He didn't speak, but instead clasped his hands together in a standard gesture of begging for forgiveness to the "victims" below the stage. Then he pointed to his wife beside him, indicating, "With family members present, please give us some face."
This down-to-earth interaction once again ignited laughter from the audience, and the applause was even more enthusiastic than before.
Nobuo Uematsu watched this scene, his eyes slightly moist.
He picked up the microphone again, and only began to speak slowly after the laughter subsided, "When Nakayama- san first suggested this concert to Sakaguchi-san, to be honest, I was apprehensive. I wondered, can video game music really be considered highbrow? Would anyone really want to sit in a concert hall and listen to my compositions?"
He paused, then looked around the audience. "But seeing you all today, I know he was right. He helped me fulfill a dream, a dream that belongs to game musicians. In the future, we will continue to present more great works to everyone."