"Technically, we've pushed the current arcade platform to its limit."
Yu Suzuki spoke, his voice carrying little emotional fluctuation, yet filled with unquestionable certainty.
He looked at the team members, at these young people who had poured countless nights into simulating the roar of a Ferrari engine and optimizing every frame of the visuals.
"The smoothness of the graphics, the quality of the music, the interactive experience—we're ahead by more than just one body length."
That confidence was built on solid technological breakthroughs and positive feedback from players.
"But," he changed tack, picking up an entertainment newspaper from the table. Printed prominently on it was a monster compendium for Dragon Quest. "The market doesn't only look at technical specs."
"The wind outside right now is all about 'heroes' fighting 'demon kings,' about 'searching for Erdrick's Armor.'"
"Our Ferrari, for the time being, can't outrun their heroes and those slimes bouncing all over the place."
There was a certain helplessness in those words, along with the dry humor unique to technical people.
The meeting room fell quiet for a moment. Then someone let out a soft laugh, and the atmosphere instead relaxed a little.
"But that's fine." Yu Suzuki put down the newspaper, his gaze sweeping over everyone, becoming sharp and resolute once more.
"The arcade is our main battlefield. It's our foundation."
"What we need to do is keep providing an overwhelming sensory impact that players absolutely cannot experience on the little television sets at home."
"The moment players step into an arcade, they should feel the generational gap in technology. They should feel Sega's strength."
"Out Run proves that our technical direction is right, and that's enough."
"Stabilize its reputation and maintain long-term operations. It will become a long-term trump card in our hand."
"As for the current 'hero