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Chapter 108: The First 16-Bit Home Console
🕑 Added 2025-10-04 11:34:22 +0000 UTC“Mr. Suzuki, I’ve recently received some unverified intelligence.”
“What news?” Masao Suzuki instinctively straightened up.
Takuya spoke slowly: “Hudson and NEC seem to have unusually close interactions lately. There are indications they may be secretly collaborating on a brand-new game console.”
The words landed like a boulder in a still pond, jolting Suzuki’s heart and catching his breath. Hudson? NEC? A new console? The combination sent a wave of unease through him. These two companies had solid reputations in the industry—if they truly teamed up…
Takuya’s gaze remained serene as he continued, “Have someone monitor this discreetly and gather intelligence. Don’t rush to verify its authenticity, and above all, avoid alerting anyone.”
He paused, a faint, playful curve forming on his lips. “At the right moment, I’ll consider ‘accidentally’ leaking it to some ‘eager’ media outlets.”
Suzuki’s breath hitched again. He wasn’t slow; he grasped Takuya’s intent immediately. “Your plan is to redirect the heat toward them and draw Nintendo’s fire?”
Takuya nodded slightly, a glint of approval in his eyes. “Precisely. Give them something to occupy themselves with, buying us more precious R&D time for the new console and creating a more relaxed market warm-up environment.” He tapped the car window lightly, as if striking a chessboard. “Sometimes, a smokescreen is needed to cloud the opponent’s vision and judgment.”
A chill crept up Suzuki’s spine, quickly transforming into profound admiration for Takuya’s foresight. This young executive’s mind was a labyrinth of intricate plans, far beyond ordinary imagination. Working with him brought both pressure and exhilaration.
“Understood, Executive Director. I’ll assign reliable personnel right away,” Suzuki replied respectfully, already mentally mapping out how to collect intel without a trace.
Takuya hummed in acknowledgment and fell silent, closing his eyes.
In the days that followed, Takuya shuttled frequently between Sega’s headquarters and Sony’s.
The LD player game collaboration was officially underway, progressing steadily.
To his mild surprise, Sony had appointed Ken Kutaragi as the project’s core lead.
This future “Father of the PlayStation” hadn’t yet fully revealed his brilliance, but his obsessive passion for technology was already evident.
At this stage, Kutaragi was likely Sony’s technical liaison for their Nintendo collaboration.
Takuya keenly noted that Sony’s leadership seemed intent on broadening Kutaragi’s exposure across gaming facets, grooming him for the business.
In repeated project meetings, Takuya and Kutaragi delved into the LD game’s features, technical implementations, and user experience, clashing and refining ideas.
Kutaragi initially approached Takuya—the young executive—with the typical technician’s scrutiny, bolstered by Sony’s patent arsenal.
But as discussions deepened, he discovered Takuya’s profound grasp of game design, product direction, and endless creativity, surpassing his expectations.
Kutaragi’s gaze toward Takuya evolved, infused with a technician’s respect for an exceptional product manager.
Meanwhile, under Takuya’s guidance, Sega’s outreach to third-party developers for the new console proceeded covertly.
With Bandai’s aid, the marketing team secured game adaptation rights for Toei’s robot anime.
He gave a concise update to Sega’s board.
“Konami, given President Kagemasa Ueyama’s pragmatic style and their historical ties with Sega, has a high likelihood of support.”
“Nintendo’s contracts have limited binding power.”
“Companies like Square and Koei, with our equity links or indirect control, pose no major issues.”
“As for Capcom, Taito, and Enix, they’re staunch Nintendo allies for now—shifting them short-term is highly challenging.”
“Namco, based on our intel, has likely aligned with Hudson and NEC’s secret new console project as an early third-party; prospects there are slim.”
“Other mid-tier developers are fence-sitters, waiting for the right winds to sway them.”
The board members listened quietly, nodding in agreement.
They had built substantial trust in Takuya’s assessments and strategies.
Time slipped by, Tokyo’s weather warming as early summer approached.
Amid this, Takuya didn’t neglect another key task.
He formally delivered the complete script for Pokémon’s first theatrical film—Mewtwo Strikes Back—to the animation studio GALLOP.
“Ensure the film’s production is of the highest quality,” Takuya instructed GALLOP’s head, his tone grave.
“Funding won’t be an issue—Sega will back it fully.”
“I want this to be a new milestone for the Pokémon series. Once complete, Sega will pour resources into Tōhō for distribution.”
GALLOP’s leader naturally agreed enthusiastically, his eyes alight with anticipation for expanding this mega-IP.
Just as everything seemed to progress smoothly, a sweltering afternoon shattered the industry’s calm with a thunderclap.
Without warning, major Japanese gaming media and computer magazines published detailed reports on a new console called the PC Engine.
The articles not only listed the PC Engine’s hardware specs but highlighted its 8-bit CPU (HuC6280, based on the 6502) paired with a powerful 16-bit graphics processor (PPU HuC6270).
The media hyped it sensationally as a “quasi-16-bit” powerhouse.
Its visual capabilities far surpassed the dominant Famicom.
Accompanied by stunning, colorful game concept art and sleek design renders, the images delivered a visceral shock to players and professionals accustomed to the Famicom’s modest graphics.
The revelation sent shockwaves through Japan’s gaming sector and even drew attention from tech-savvy general audiences.
The PC Engine’s emergence, like a dark horse, seized the spotlight overnight.
For Sega, secretly developing the true 16-bit Mega Drive, it signaled a formidable new rival had drawn first blood ahead of schedule.
Though not entirely unforeseen, Takuya had been anticipating this very moment.
