Mainland China and Europe
With these concerns in mind, Nakayama Takuya entered the game.
However, after playing for a short while, Nakayama Takuya's previously calm expression instantly crumbled.
On the screen, a line of pixelated Chinese characters suddenly appeared. "The fat ambassador unleashed his decorative fist."
Nakayama Takuya stared at the screen for a full half minute before realizing that what should have been "Dragonite used Thunder Punch" was actually a line from a video.
He had clearly "leaked" all the original Japanese text drafts that were to be burned at the Taiwan factory to Nine-Tattoo Dragon. Logically, it should have been just a Kung Fu of translating the Japanese text into Chinese and then replacing it with the original. How did these people manage to copy the existing standard answer into such a terrible mess? Were they the same people who did the localization in his past life?
"What a talent!"
Nakayama Takuya amused and exasperated, tossed the controller back onto the table.
The stiff feel of the buttons, the rebound of the buttons felt like pressing on a lump of hardened chewing gum.
He then switched to another RPG cartridge, which was even worse.
The dialogue is incoherent and nonsensical. Translating "King" as "class monitor" and "princess" as "female comrade" is considered faithful, expressive, and elegant, not to mention the completely nonsensical gibberish.
If this kind of industrial waste were placed in Japan or the United States, consumers would probably tear down the doors of Sega Headquarters.
But in Mainland China during that era, these were treasures for children, keys to unlocking a new world.
Nakayama Takuya leaned back in his chair, his fingers lightly tapping the cheap casing of the computer.
The report mentions that although the quality is questionable and the failure rate is not low, these machines are taking over the childhoods of second-tier cities in mainland China at an alarming rate because they are priced at only one-eighth to one-tenth of the genuine ones, coupled with the ubiquitous "charter server rooms".
That's enough.
At present, the electronic component supply chain in mainland China is at this level; expecting them to produce original quality products is nothing short of wishful thinking.
As long as the blue hedgehog and Sega's logo can be imprinted in the minds of a generation, this seemingly insignificant move will be considered a success.
As for the future----
Nakayama Takuya looked out the window. He knew very well that the Mainland China game market would follow a unique path for a long time to come: PC would reign supreme.
The rise of internet cafes will completely change the gaming ecosystem.
But this wasn't bad news for him.
After all, across the ocean, the company called "Blizzard" has now been acquired by Sega.
While StarCraft, Warcraft, and Diablo swept through internet cafes across mainland China, Sega remained the winner, counting its profits behind the scenes.
Moreover, judging by the timeline, the magazine "Electronic Game Software," which is considered a bible by countless mainland gamers, is about to be launched.
Watching those editors passionately scribbling on paper, cheering for Sega, will surely be an interesting experience.
"It seems that Nine-Tattoo Dragon has secured this immense wealth."
Nakayama Takuya and stuffed the knock-off phone back into the file folder.
It's better to keep this kind of "dark history" locked away in a closet. As for Hisao Oguchi, just let him know that this happened, but don't let him see the things, so as not to make him worry unnecessarily.
Compared to the unified North America market and the relatively integrated Japan domestic market, the situation in Europe is like a chaotic mess.
With language barriers, different currencies, and wildly varying policies on video games from different countries, Sega's attempt to directly enter this market is not only arduous but also risky.
Therefore, in this life, he continued his previous strategy, passing this hot potato to the France family business, Ubisoft.
It must be said that the Guillemot Five Brothers are indeed business-minded.
Riding on Sega's global expansion in recent years, Ubisoft living a much more comfortable life in Europe than it did in its previous life.
They not only stocked Sega products in Paris department stores, but Sega posters could also be seen on the streets of London.
"Mr. Guillermo, this is a fax from France." The assistant gently placed a document on the table. "Mr. Guillermo inquired whether they could provide us with a Jupiter development kit. They said they are assembling a new development team and want to test their skills on the new platform."
Nakayama Takuya glanced at the document, a slight smile playing on his lips.
In its previous life, Ubisoft was still working as a distributor at this time, occasionally dabbling in small games to test the waters.
It seems that Sega's strong rise has spurred their ambitions; these France no longer want to be mere porters.
"Approve it to them." Nakayama Takuya picked up his pen and signed his name on the document. "Tell Guillermo, I'm not afraid of their ambition, I'm afraid of their incompetence. Remember to keep a backup for Oguchi's side for future matters of this level."
If I remember correctly, the character Rayman, who has no arms or legs but can fly all over the screen, should have taken shape in the mind of that genius designer, Michel Ansel.
Now that Ubisoft has latched onto Sega's coattails in this life, this guy with the onion-shaped head had better just obediently come into Jupiter's bowl.
After dealing with Western Europe, Nakayama Takuya slid his finger eastward across the map, stopping at Poland.
That was Eastern Europe, a virgin land yet to be cultivated.
Because Sega dumped its surplus SG-1000 and MasterSystem inventory into Eastern Europe ahead of schedule, the gaming market there had awakened earlier than in the previous era.
Although piracy is rampant, the seeds of awareness of copyright protection have begun to sprout.
In an unremarkable list of Eastern Europe distributors, Nakayama Takuya spotted a name that was all too familiar: CDProjekt.
This small company, which was registered in Warsaw in 1994, was actually founded in 1993. Its main business is still importing games from the United States and then reselling them at flea markets in Warsaw.
Marcin Ivinski and Michał Kiesinski, these two young men, probably never dreamed that they would one day become the "Poland CD Projekt Red," revered by gamers worldwide.
"Interesting." Nakayama Takuya tapped the name lightly with his fingers. "It seems the butterfly effect has even reached the flea market in Warsaw."
Although these people are currently just middlemen, their love for RPG games and their dedication to localization (Poland translation) are ingrained in their bones.
"Oguchi." Nakayama Takuya pressed the call button on the table.
"Exist."
"Check our agency agreement with Ubisoft. When does the clause regarding Eastern Europe expire?"
"Wait a moment—it's December 31, 1995." Hisao Oguchi's voice quickly came through, "The current terms are a package deal; Ubisoft holds the distribution rights for the entire Europe continent."
"Two more years... ----" Nakayama Takuya leaned back in his chair, lost in thought.