Time entered October 1995.
Tokyo's autumn wind swept through the streets, carrying away the lingering warmth of summer, yet it could not disperse the surging crowds packed into Akihabara's major Electric Town districts.
Those dazzling demo images from E3, after several months of disc pressing and channel distribution, had gradually turned into physical discs and cartridges sitting on store shelves.
As the end of the year drew closer, game releases from every company grew increasingly dense, and many of the pies those companies had drawn in the air that summer began to be served one after another.
Players faced the sternest trial of their wallets, as a flood of new titles left them overwhelmed and sent their spending on games rising like a tide lifting all boats.
The adoption speed of 32-bit consoles exceeded the expectations of many traditional analysts.
According to data compiled from major distributors, Sega's Jupiter had just barely crossed the threshold of five million cumulative units sold worldwide.
Sony's PlayStation was being blocked in the North American market, but relying on steady progress in its home market of Japan and support from its third-party lineup, it had also broken through two million units in July.
In stark contrast stood the 16-bit console market.
Throughout the latter half of the year, large numbers of Super Famicom and Mega Drive games were still being released, and the numbers on sales reports were still passable, but that atmosphere of nationwide frenzy no longer existed.
The attention of millions, even tens of millions, of core players had long since been drawn away by the more impactful 3D graphics and CD-quality sound of 32-bit consoles.
When the wind direction of the market shifted, the ones with the sharpest noses were always the third-party software companies.
At this moment, Sega released a