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Chapter 150: *Final Fantasy* Launches
🕑 Added 2025-10-19 09:16:23 +0000 UTCOne month after the Mega Drive’s release, its first true RPG masterpiece, *Final Fantasy*, hit retail shelves—a critical battle to boost MD’s install base.
The outcome exceeded even the most optimistic forecasts.
In its first week, fueled by Sega and Square’s relentless pre-launch hype, nearly every early MD adopter grabbed *Final Fantasy*. Initial sales were strong, as expected by Sega’s marketing team.
The real explosion came a week later. As players cleared or dove deep into the game, a tidal wave of word-of-mouth surged from the community’s core. “This art’s insane—opening full-screen illustrations feel like an anime movie!” “The music’s divine! Will they release a soundtrack? I’d buy it!” “Free job-switching! My white mage isn’t stuck healing—late-game red mage is stylish and strong!” “This is true adventure—flying an airship, exploring hidden caves and temples, I’m a real Warrior of Light!”
Players bored of *Dragon Quest*’s linear stories and fixed jobs discovered a new world. They hadn’t imagined an RPG with such freedom, immersive world-building, and cinematic storytelling.
The frenzy peaked with *Fami*’s latest issue. Its cover, white with red text, gave *Final Fantasy* a score of (9/9/9/9)—36 points, Platinum Hall of Fame. Japan’s gaming scene shook. After a week of leveling off, daily sales spiked again, tracing a steeper climb.
At Sega’s headquarters, the sales meeting room buzzed, coffee scented with victory. The sales head wrapped up, and marketing’s Masao Suzuki took the stage, pointing to a soaring red curve on the projector. “Sales speak for themselves—let’s dive into analysis. With *Fami*’s Platinum boost, our daily sales surpassed week one!”
Ex-arcade execs, skeptical of RPGs, stared at the data, stunned. Suzuki flipped to MD console sales. “Here’s the kicker: over 70% of recent MD buyers grab *Final Fantasy* too! Players are buying our console for this game. In Japan’s RPG-obsessed market, a stellar RPG drives hardware sales.”
His words crushed lingering doubts. All eyes turned to the calm young man at the head—Takuya Nakayama. He tapped the table, silencing the room. “Good. PR, pivot now. Plaster *Fami*’s score and player buzz on every ad.” His sharp gaze swept the room. “But this is just the start.”
The projector shifted to a sci-fi character design against a starry void. “Yuji Naka’s *Phantasy Star* is nearing completion. We keep pushing—top-tier RPGs will make MD the go-to for RPG fans.”
Meanwhile, Square’s office was a joyful chaos, unlike its near-bankrupt state six months prior. Phones rang, faxes hummed, and excited chatter filled the air. Fan letters piled high. Producer Hironobu Sakaguchi gently opened one, revealing a child’s sketch of the four Warriors of Light. “Thank you, Mr. Sakaguchi, this is the best game ever,” it read. His eyes misted. The desperate gamble had become pure triumph.
“Sakaguchi!” President Masashi Miyamoto burst in, clapping his shoulder. “Cartridge factory just called—first restock batch ships in two days!” His smile bloomed. “No more begging Nintendo for months over a few thousand units. Sega’s policy lets us set production and meet demand fast!” Cheers erupted. Nintendo’s draconian terms had choked them; now, they tasted freedom.
Miyamoto quieted the room, leaning to Sakaguchi with a mix of encouragement and pressure. “The board’s thrilled. They want *Final Fantasy II*’s plan ASAP.” Sakaguchi’s smile froze briefly. He glanced at the worn *Fami* with its “Platinum Hall” stamp and his team’s elation. Amid the joy, a new pressure loomed—how to top a benchmark?
In Akihabara, *Final Fantasy*’s giant poster, crystal tower gleaming, dominated shopfronts. But shelves were bare. A scribbled sign read: “*Final Fantasy* sold out! Pre-orders open, next batch in three days!” The scarcity fueled hype, fermenting the game’s buzz.
The “FF Phenomenon” hit rivals. At Nintendo’s Kyoto HQ, a report on *Final Fantasy*’s performance sat on Genyo Takeda’s desk, detailing sales, *Fami*’s 36, and a highlighted note: “Square expects restock in three days.” *Three days?* Takeda’s alarm bells rang. Nintendo’s cartridge system took half a month for restocks—a royalty-driven control now leveraged by Sega to pry at their throne.
Worse, a Tokyo rumor stirred unease: veteran FC RPG developers were quietly inquiring about MD dev kits. The unverified whisper rippled through Nintendo’s third-party camp.
A storm was brewing.
At its center, a 10,000-word critique in a major game magazine dissected *Final Fantasy*’s success: “It redefines RPGs. ‘Job freedom’ sparks unmatched growth fun; ‘立体 exploration’ makes the world alive; ‘cinematic storytelling’ elevates games to new narrative heights. When Nobuo Uematsu’s epic score plays, a new era of fantasy begins.” Hailed as gospel, it crowned *Final Fantasy* a masterpiece.
