Nintendo's Decision

On the hardware battlefield, Sega truly had the qualifications to look down on the current Nintendo.

"Not only that." Masayuki Uemura pushed up his glasses and added, "They deliberately went around Minoru Arakawa.

"If Arakawa went, that occasion would very likely turn into an even purer commercial showcase and a political game within the association. Nakayama Takuya knows very well that Arakawa is a shark that bites, while Miyamoto—"

"While Miyamoto is Nintendo's signboard, an artist in the field of game development." Yokoi Gunpei picked up the thread, leaning back against his chair, a touch of self-mockery in his tone. "Letting someone who only knows how to make games go up and talk about feelings gives the industry all the face it needs, while posing no real lethality to Sega's commercial layout. That abacus is clacking so loudly I can hear it from Kyoto."

"But can we refuse?"

The meeting room fell into a brief deathly silence.

Refuse? How?

This was IDSA's first public appearance, and the whole world's spotlight was on Los Angeles.

If they did not let Shigeru Miyamoto go, were they supposed to suggest sending Atari's Nolan Bushnell instead?

Don't joke around. Atari was now a role swept into the trash heap of history. Sending Bushnell up there would only make everyone remember that era of collapse when millions of game cartridges were buried in Alamogordo, the garbage town of New Mexico.

If Shigeru Miyamoto went, it would bring Nintendo honor; if he did not, it would be spitting in the face being offered.

Yamauchi Hiroshi, who had not spoken all this time, finally moved.

He picked up his cold teacup and took a sip, not angered by his subordinates' pessimistic arguments.

The old man who had steered Nintendo for decades let his gaze pass over everyone