Concert Repercussions

The following tracks, whether the melodious "Wind's Embrace" or the somewhat comical heroic "Frog's Theme," each precisely hit the players' emotional and emotional triggers.

Even if the subsequent arrangement returned to the original flavor, the emotional impact of the live performance was simply incomparable to that of a television set with a single speaker.

The players listened with rapt attention.

At this moment, they are no longer the children who are nagged by their parents for "wasting their lives on playthings," nor are they the middle-aged people who are overwhelmed by work.

They are time travelers, heroes who save the world, and saviors who stepped forward on Day of Lavos in 1999.

This sense of satisfaction from being understood and respected is something that money can't buy.

The expressions on everyone's faces were priceless when the concert ended.

It evokes both the dazed feeling of having one's soul cleansed and the reluctance to return to reality.

"Mr. Nakayama, it seems we've achieved our goal."

Looking at the crowd lingering below, Sakaguchi Hironobu remarked with a touch of melancholy, "After this concert, Square will establish a firm foothold in the game music scene."

"This is just the beginning." Nakayama Takuya stood up and straightened his collar. "From now on, no one will dare say that Square games have bad music. In fact, who knows, if the music in one of our games is perfected, players will say it's like buying a CD and getting the game for free."

The two exchanged a smile and left the private room.

The next morning, newsstands in Tokyo were much busier than usual.

This time, Famitsu didn't give the headline to any upcoming big-budget game. Instead, it unusually featured a slightly blurry candid photo of Nobuo Uematsu standing on the podium in a haori-hakama, with the silhouette of the entire audience standing and applauding in the background.

The title was even in bold: <After a 40-point masterpiece, Square redefines the "ninth art">.

Turning the pages, the commentator's words were so excited they were almost incoherent. "If Chrono Trigger was a dream presented to players by Sega and Square, then last night's concert was bringing that dream to life. When Yasunori Mitsuda tore through the air of the classical music hall with his synthesizer, I saw the infinite possibilities of game music. This is no longer just the whooshing and popping of electronic synthesizers; it's a resonance of souls."

The entertainment section is even more interesting.

A gossip magazine called Shukan Bunshun even gave half a page to this "game concert" with a highly sensational headline. "Sega Executive Director Nakayama Takuya' collectively demanded payment' from 2,000 people at a classical music hall?"

The article vividly describes the little episode of "Give me back my New Year's money," and even includes a blurry profile picture of Nakayama Takuya with his hands clasped together in "begging for mercy."

"This is probably the most expensive debt collection event in Japan business history." Two thousand creditors willingly paid for tickets just to shout at this money-grabbing monster, "Give us more, we still have money!"

At Sega Headquarters, Nakayama Takuya threw the newspaper on the table, somewhat amused and exasperated.

"Executive Director, it seems you're even more famous Sonic now." Hisao Oguchi walked in carrying the latest sales report, a forced smile on his face. "The Public Relations Department's phones have been ringing off the hook, everyone's asking when you're really going to pay back the money," or "or when are you going to throw another one?"

"Paying back the money is out of the question." Nakayama Takuya took a sip of his coffee and pointed to the photo in the newspaper. "This is called market interaction. See, isn't the effect quite good?"

That's excessively good.

Originally, the word-of-mouth reputation circulated only among core gamers, but after this media bombardment, it completely broke out of its niche. Even those so-called "high society" people who usually only listen to classical music and scoff at games were intrigued by this novel performance style.

While the serious music magazine * Music Friends * used restrained language, it awkwardly admitted. "While the arrangement was somewhat radical, this performance was undoubtedly textbook-worthy in its ability to engage the audience's emotions. Perhaps we should re-evaluate this emerging form of digital art."

This "official" stamp of certification instantly made players who held tickets for the next two days highly sought after.

Tickets that were previously available for transfer on the secondary market have vanished instantly.

There were even scalpers holding signs on the streets of Harajuku offering 50,000 Japanese yen for a single B-seat ticket, only to be met with an eye-roll from a passing student. "50,000? If I sold it, my buddy who just bought the collector's edition would break my legs."

Those players who couldn't attend in person could only vent their frustration on their pre-orders.

The phones at major record stores became hotlines.

"Hey? We want to order more CDs for the Square Classic Game Concert! Yes, another 500 copies! And the bonus poster is a must!"

In just one morning, the original 50,000 pre-orders doubled, exceeding 100,000.

As the year draws to a close, the chilly winds are making the financial statements of major game companies tremble.

At Sega Headquarters, Nakayama Takuya looked at the somewhat thin winter release schedule in his hand, but he wasn't worried.

The Development Department's best talent was all reassigned to tackle the next-generation console and the Model 2 arcade board, resulting in the Mega Drive being unable to produce many decent new titles to anchor the market during this traditionally peak season.

"Since there are no new dishes, let's sell some cheap leftovers." Nakayama Takuya tossed the sales chart onto the table and said to Hisao Oguchi, "Pass the word, the 'promotional tactic' is back in action. This time, we're going to take the battle to Europe and America, and get gamers all over the world to 'buy, buy, buy' along with Sega."

Back in October, Sega faxed its official letter to major third-party manufacturers.

The message is simple and straightforward: From Christmas Eve, December 24th to January 7th of next year, Sega will be offering a promotion on all older games across all platforms, following the terms of last year's Christmas and New Year's sales. Manufacturers who wish to participate are encouraged to contact Sega as soon as possible to coordinate related matters.

This unexpected move caught some small and medium-sized manufacturers off guard. Although they had allowed enough time, the impact on their plans was inevitable.

The presidents of several small factories, who had originally planned to boost their year-end performance, gathered in an izakaya looking worried.

"How are we supposed to compete like this? With Sega lowering the price, releasing our new game would be suicide."

"Let's postpone it." Another president took a swig of his drink. "I've done the math. Let's postpone the release date to mid-January. Take advantage of this promotion to clear out those unsold old cartridges in the warehouse to Sega. The unit price is a bit low, but the sales volume is guaranteed. The cash we get back can support us until the release of the new game next year."