Bandai Got Anxious
"This—" Takuya blinked, somewhat dazed.
I was used to seeing dazzling displays of fashion at anime conventions in my previous life, but this was the streets of Japan in 1994.
The emergence of this kind of unofficial cosplay means that Sakura Wars is no longer just a game; it has begun to seep into the capillaries of popular culture.
"Looks like your little sweetheart is quite popular." Eri chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I even run into her in the park."
Takuya coughed lightly and corrected him seriously, "What are you talking about? Besides, isn't my real goddess sitting right next to me?"
"You smooth talker." Eri her eyes at him, but then peeled a grape and popped it into his mouth, clearly enjoying it. "But honestly, although I don't quite understand your men's romance, seeing how much everyone loves that story makes me quite proud. My father called the other day to complain that the station's hotline is practically overflowing with calls from viewers asking for a replay."
"That's a good thing." Takuya chewed on a grape, looking at "Sakura Shinguji" posing, his eyes deep. "When we get back next week, we can ask Hiroi- san to put the <Sakura Wars> stage play production on the agenda. Now that the fire's started, we need to add more fuel to the fire."
"You're such a workaholic." Eri shook her head helplessly, reaching out to wipe the sugar stains from Kazuki's lips. "You finally get out to spend some time with your son, and your mind is still on business."
"I'm making money to buy milk powder for this kid." Takuya and ruffled his son's hair. The little guy was staring at the wooden sword in the cosplayer's hand, drooling.
A gust of wind blew by, and cherry blossoms fluttered down from the sky.
Looking at the pink world before him, and the young people in the distance imitating the actions in the game, Takuya felt an indescribable sense of accomplishment.
That's right.
Games shouldn't just be a pastime hidden in a dimly lit room; they should step into the sunlight and become a shared memory for everyone.
The holiday was over, Nakayama Takuya could even settle into his Managing Director's Office chair, Hisao Oguchi walked in carrying a stack of folders.
"Progress of the initial Jupiter support team." Hisao Oguchi slammed the top file on the table, his expression more like boasting about a victory than reporting work. "Thanks to your insistence that the development team use the Model 2 development machine for the underlying infrastructure first, the transition to the Jupiter architecture is seamless. The average progress is two months faster than waiting for the Jupiter development machine to be available before starting development."
Nakayama Takuya casually flipped through a couple of pages; the densely packed progress bars were all a soothing green.
This result was within his expectations. After all, the Jupiter and Model 2 share a certain architectural lineage, and it would be a miracle if this "sneak peek" tactic didn't work.
"Well done." Nakayama Takuya closed the folder. "Since we're ahead of schedule, let each development team refine the details while they have the extra time. For the new console's debut, I want it to be 'stunning,' not just passable."
With Hisao Oguchi as his "chief steward" overseeing the details, he no longer needed to personally monitor the development progress or think about the broader group strategy.
However, the biggest lie a boss can tell is that a life of leisure is easy.
The phone on the table rang.
"Executive Director Nakayama, that's not very fair of you." The voice of Bandai Director, Mitsui Chuta, came through the receiver, his tone laced with bitterness, like a wronged little wife. "You're taking Sunrise to United States to live a life of luxury, while leaving us Bandai to starve in Tokyo? What, Sega so powerful now, you look down on us poor relatives who sell plastic figurines?"
Clearly, Sunrise had relayed the news of signing Turner back to China, and the Bandai team was both happy and frustrated to see that their anime was going to be sold to mainstream United States channels.
"Mitsui -san, what are you saying?" Nakayama Takuya said, holding the receiver and signing another document. "I'm going to be your laborer. I've paved the way for you in Turner. From now on, you'll be shipping Gundam models to United States ship after ship, and don't hold back when you're counting the money. Don't forget to treat me to a drink then."
"Drinking is a minor matter." Mitsui Chuta changed the subject, his tone becoming more serious. "President Yamashina also agrees."
He feels you haven't been visiting Bandai much lately, and things have gotten a bit distant. That's why he's been saying he wants to find an opportunity to catch up with you.
The reminiscing was a pretense; the real purpose was to probe for information.
Sega has been making a lot of moves lately, from new consoles to expanding its presence in the United States. Bandai, though a staunch ally, is worried about falling behind and is feeling uneasy.
Nakayama Takuya glanced at the desk calendar, his gaze lingering on the date circled in red at the end of the month.
That was the day the three teams submitted their prototypes for "Gundam Battle Operation".
"Alright, no need for President Yamashina to make the trip. Please come to Sega in early April." Nakayama Takuya smiled, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. "I have something good I'd like to show you."
There was a pause on the other end of the phone, followed by a slightly expectant voice from Mitsui Chuta: "Then I'll wait and see?"
After hanging up with Mitsui Chuta, Nakayama Takuya rubbed his slightly sore neck, pushed the Bandai documents aside, and pulled out an unlabeled package from the bottom of the drawer.
This is an "insider secret" that Tanaka just brought back from Hong Kong.
Upon opening the package, a pungent smell characteristic of cheap plastic wafted out.
Nakayama Takuya couldn't help but frown, and pulled out a roughly made black desktop computer from inside.
There were even burrs at the seams of the outer casing that hadn't been properly polished, and with a gentle shake, you could hear the clicking sound of loose parts inside.
The front of the machine bears a line of crooked, gold-stamped letters: "SEGAMEGADRIVER"
The addition of an "R" makes it seem more "motivated".
This is Nine-Tattoo Dragon's masterpiece in mainland China.
According to Tanaka's report, this loyal boss did indeed keep his word. In just a few months, his underground network in Guangdong Province had spread out, even extending its reach to the surrounding provincial capitals. Four workshops with signs that read "Electronic Toy Factory" were working day and night. One was responsible for injection molding and assembling this "MegaDriver," one was imitating GamePocket, and the remaining two were specifically responsible for converting Japanese cartridges into "understandable" Chinese versions.
Nakayama Takuya plugged the power cord of this knock-off GAMEPOCKET into a 100V 50Hz to 220V 50Hz converter, and then inserted a yellow cartridge called "Pikachu's Adventure".
When the power was turned on, the familiar startup sound effect was replaced by an even more unpleasant electronic synthesized sound, which sounded like a duck being strangled.
Could it be that the counterfeit manufacturer replaced the audio components with cheaper ones to cut corners? If it's just the audio components that were changed, then the impact on GamePocket isn't too significant. Hopefully, other aspects will be better.