Meeting

After all, the sales figures for the Jurassic Park games speak for themselves; that's real money.

Although the film itself was a box office monster, the attention Sega generated in Japan in advance through the game did save Universal a huge amount of money on marketing and distribution.

"Is Steven here?" Nakayama Takuya asked casually as he walked inside.

"Yes, yes, but—" the manager looked troubled, pointing to the conference room inside, which was packed with bodyguards and the public relations team, "He's been in there all morning for Schindler's List."

As they were talking, the conference room door opened.

Steven Spielberg walked out in a hurry, clutching a thick stack of documents in his hand, and his eye bags were much deeper than the last time I saw him.

Upon seeing Nakayama Takuya, the director finally managed a genuine smile on his usually serious face.

"Takuya! What brings you here?" Spielberg stopped, but only for a moment. "Sorry, I have an important interview tonight about Schindler's List. Those old Academy are too difficult to deal with."

"I understand, it's a crucial time for winning the Oscar." Nakayama Takuya tactfully stepped aside to make way, without offering further pleasantries. "I wish you a sweeping awards season."

Spielberg waved and got into the waiting car.

As the taillights disappeared, Nakayama Takuya shrugged.

He knew perfectly well that Jurassic Park was a business, while Schindler's List was a history of Jewish blood and tears, and even more so, a masterpiece by Spielberg to boost the prestige of his own people.

It's best for him, a time traveler with a Japan exterior, to stay out of such sensitive areas involving race and political correctness.

If you were to force yourself to talk about something else at this point, it would be tactless and could easily cause you trouble.

After saying goodbye to Universal, the two immediately went to Fox and Warner Bros..

The executives of these giants were equally polite to Nakayama Takuya, after all, who wouldn't want to make more money from Sega? They all pulled out scripts they had prepared over the past two years.

Unfortunately, after searching all afternoon, Nakayama Takuya didn't find any projects that caught his eye.

While Hollywood is a goldmine, not every movie is suitable for making into a game.

He didn't see it here today, at least not today.

In the past two years, the most profitable film that is also the most suitable for adaptation into a game is Pixar's Toy Story.

That's a bit early, but I'll tell Bernard to sign the game adaptation license later.

It seems finding another Tyrannosaurus Rex won't be so easy.

As he walked out of Warner. ' doors, Nakayama Takuya tossed the final script outline back to Bernard and stretched.

Two days later, Fisherman's Wharf, San Francisco.

The sea breeze carried a faint salty smell, and seagulls cried out incessantly around the outdoor dining area, begging for fries.

Miyagawa Yasuo still had some faint dark circles under his eyes, clearly indicating that he hadn't fully adjusted to the time difference yet.

In front of him sat a bowl of San Francisco -style sourdough clam chowder, but he didn't touch it. His notebook was already half-filled with dense Japanese writing.

"Eat something first, President Miyagawa. Ted Turner isn't going to run away." Nakayama Takuya slowly cracked open a Dungeness crab's claw and handed over the snow-white crab meat.

Miyagawa Yasuo smiled sheepishly and put down his pen, "Executive Director, I really can't concentrate. What exactly is that threshold you mentioned on the phone?"

Nakayama Takuya wiped his hands and pointed towards the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance. "In the past, Japan animation couldn't get into United States not because it was bad, but because it didn't meet the needs of United States television stations."

He took a sip of ice water, held up one finger, and said, "You know Robotech, right?"

"Of course, it's a product of forcibly piecing together the three works: Super Dimension Fortress Macross, Super Dimension Cavalry Southern Cross, and Genesis Climber MOSPEADA." Miyagawa Yasuo nodded, as an industry insider, he actually had quite a few complaints about this "Frankenstein's monster" approach.

"The United States didn't want to do this either; they were forced to," Nakayama Takuya explained. "United States Broadcasting Union has a rule—to be broadcast on a public television network, you must meet the requirement of '13 consecutive weeks of airing, 5 episodes per week.' In other words, your show must have at least 65 episodes. If it's even one episode less, the network won't accept it because they're too lazy to adjust their schedules for you. And this is also very troublesome for the affiliated networks, making it difficult for them to negotiate GG (Gross Broadcasting) business."

Miyagawa Yasuo suddenly realized. Japan animation is usually released weekly, with only about 50 episodes a year. Many short stories only have twenty or even a dozen episodes, which doesn't even meet this threshold.

"But now, times have changed." Nakayama Takuya changed the subject. "The Ted Turner we're meeting operates Cartoon Network, a professional animation television channel under Turner Broadcasting System Inc.., which is cable television. Cable television doesn't have as many outdated rules. Their broadcasting methods are more flexible, and they're relatively short on content right now. So, we just need to send them our shows, even if it's only 20 episodes, and they'll find a way to fit them into their time slot."

"Then what are we going to use to knock on the door? Gundam?" Miyagawa Yasuo asked tentatively.

"No, Gundam is too heavy, and United States kids won't understand Director Tomino's thoughts on war and peace." Nakayama Takuya shook his head and took two poster sketches out of his bag, slapping them on the table.

Miyagawa Yasuo stared intently, then froze.

It's not Gundam, and it's not Armored Trooper VOTOMS.

It's <Mashin Hero Wataru> and <Mado King Granzort>.

"Isn't this too childish?"

"What we need is a young audience. You know, Cartoon Network's current main target audience for its animations is relatively young." Nakayama Takuya laughed, a laugh like a shrewd toy dealer. "President Miyagawa, don't forget, we're not the ones most anxious about whether our animations can be broadcast in United States. Bandai is dreaming of selling their plastic figurines to United States. These two shows have simple plots, good triumphs over evil, and no cultural background is needed to understand them. Most importantly, the robots in them have unique designs and are highly recognizable; they're practically made for selling toys."

He paused, then lowered his voice. "As long as Turner airs it, even in a less popular time slot, even if the ratings are mediocre, as long as that robot toy fails, Bandai can open up the market in the United States. At that point, will Sunrise's profit share be any less?"

Miyagawa Yasuo swallowed.

He suddenly realized that the young executive in front of him was not just looking at animation, but at the entire industry chain.

"Moreover, this is just testing the waters." Nakayama Takuya then revealed the most crucial piece of information that led to Miyagawa Yasuo: "If this succeeds, Sunrise will have to change its habits when producing animation in the future."