Ken Kutaragi's Response

Players got their games, distributors made their margins, and Capcom's financial statements saw a historic surge.

Sega had not only earned fat OEM profits, it had also seized the chance to show the entire industry its powerful industrial scheduling capabilities.

In the game industry of 1996, this kind of cooperation model was so ahead of its time it seemed a little out of place.

Traditional hardware manufacturers often used their production lines as a weapon to hold third parties by the throat, forcing them to sign exclusivity agreements.

Sony and Nintendo were both playing that game. Though Sony's table manners were slightly better, only slightly; after all, Sony was the holder of optical disc patents, and the number of disc production lines it needed to maintain far exceeded Sega's.

Sega did the exact opposite.

You make your game; I earn my OEM fee.

You want to release on my console? Welcome.

You want to release on another console? As long as you use my factory to press the discs, I'll still provide the best service.

Hisao Oguchi looked at the OEM settlement sheet the Finance Department had sent over.

Capcom's urgent order of three hundred thousand copies had a rather impressive profit margin.

"What did Capcom say about the follow-up long-tail orders?" Hisao Oguchi asked the channel director.

"Their own factory has freed up capacity. For the subsequent regular restocks, they plan to press them slowly themselves," the channel director replied.

Hisao Oguchi nodded.

That fit commercial logic perfectly.

When there was an urgent fire to put out, they came to Sega; for day-to-day living, using their own pots and stoves saved money.

"No matter." Hisao Oguchi put the settlement sheet into his drawer. "What we earned from this business wasn't just money, but Capcom's trust."

Tsujimoto Kenzo was a