Ajal.
patreon
Chapter 56 - Tournament Preparations
🕑 Added 2025-09-16 11:38:01 +0000 UTC“Technically, we’ve pushed the arcade platform to its limits,” Yuji Suzuki said, his voice steady but brimming with unshakable confidence.
He looked at his team—young developers who poured countless nights into simulating a Ferrari’s roar and optimizing every frame.
“The smoothness of the visuals, the quality of the music, the interactive experience—we’re ahead by more than a step.”
This confidence stemmed from real technical breakthroughs and positive player feedback.
“But,” he pivoted, picking up an entertainment newspaper featuring Dragon Quest’s monster guide, “the market doesn’t just care about technical specs.”
“Right now, it’s all about ‘heroes’ slaying ‘demon kings’ and ‘searching for Loto’s armor.’”
“Our Ferrari can’t outrun their heroes and hopping Slimes—yet.”
His tone carried a hint of resignation mixed with a techie’s dry humor.
The room fell quiet, then someone chuckled, easing the mood.
“No matter,” Yuji set the paper down, his gaze sharp and resolute. “Arcades are our main battlefield, our foundation.”
“Our job is to deliver overwhelming sensory experiences you can’t get on a home TV.”
“Let players walk into an arcade and feel the technological gap—Sega’s strength.”
“Out Run proves our technical direction is right. That’s enough.”
“Build its reputation, maintain long-term operations—it’ll be a lasting ace.”
“As for the ‘hero craze’ out there…” he paused.
“The wheel turns. The wind will shift.”
“We do our job: build better machines, make stronger games, and wait for the next opportunity.”
“Out Run is just the start. Our journey’s long.”
“But the market heat… it’s not like Fatal Fury,” the AM2 group leader across from him said, smiling lightly.
He sipped his tea, blowing off steam.
“Suzuki-san, that’s the value of developing Out Run with Sega.”
“It shows Sega can not only create market-exploding fighting games but also absorb external tech to produce top-tier racing games.”
“Fatal Fury draws hot-blooded teens and fighting fans, while Out Run broadens our audience, attracting players chasing novelty and experience—even couples.”
He set down his cup, eyeing the AM2 elites and second development team.
“We can’t walk on one leg. Fatal Fury is a spark; Out Run builds our technical moat, showcasing Sega’s diverse strength.”
“And, Suzuki-san, your tech achievements in Out Run—high-speed scrolling, large interactive cabinets—trust me, they’ll soon shine on a bigger stage.”
Yuji nodded thoughtfully, recalling a recent confidentiality agreement with the hardware team, his mind connecting dots.
The deputy leader of the second development team added, “Exactly. In arcades, Fatal Fury and Out Run complement each other, drawing different players and keeping revenue strong.”
The room’s atmosphere lightened.
Early July brought summer’s heat.
As Dragon Quest’s frenzy cooled slightly, with players discussing second playthroughs or seeking new thrills, Sega reignited its own spark.
Prominent posters appeared in all partnered Sega arcades.
Featuring Fatal Fury’s iconic battle scenes—Terry, Andy, and Joe in signature fighting poses, eyes fierce—the posters blazed with fiery text:
“First Sega Fatal Fury Esports Tournament!”
“City Qualifiers, Mid-to-Late July, Battle Begins!”
Below were detailed rules, registration info, and city preliminary schedules.
During prime-time anime slots, commercials shifted to tournament teasers.
Rousing music, dazzling special move clips, and the slogan “Crown South Town’s King, Win Big Prizes” ignited the competitive fire in players.
The once-quiet Fatal Fury arcade zones roared back to life.
“Hey! Saw the poster? There’s a tournament!”
“No way—a national one?”
“Heard the national champ gets 5 million yen!”
Arcades buzzed again, talk shifting from “beating Geese” to “beating other players.”
Veteran players from the earlier craze sharpened their focus, no longer casually tossing coins but training systematically.
In a Tokyo Shinjuku arcade corner, a high schooler in uniform stared at the screen, fingers flying on the joystick and buttons.
Beside him, a notebook detailed move frame data, recovery lag, and analyses of local pros’ habits.
Nearby, young players crowded a machine, debating loudly.
The air crackled with tense excitement, coins clinking more frequently.
For glory, prizes, and to prove they were Fatal Fury’s best, countless players entered rigorous prep mode.
At Sega’s headquarters, in the marketing department’s meeting room, Takuya Nakayama finalized city qualifier details with key staff.
“Fairness is priority one. All tournament machines must be rigorously tested for consistent joysticks and buttons,” Takuya stressed, tapping the table.
“Second, spectacle. For qualifiers, try assigning simple on-site announcers in key regions to introduce players and hype the crowd.”
“Announcers?” a committee member hesitated, the idea novel.
“Yes, nothing too professional—just someone to explain basics and stir excitement,” Takuya clarified.
“More importantly, we need to spotlight ‘grassroots heroes.’ Ordinary players rising to the top—their stories are our best marketing.”
“Let everyone know: if you’re strong enough, you’ll shine on this stage.”
He elaborated his vision.
“For the national finals, consider a basic commentary desk with eliminated pros or developers for insights, boosting professionalism and fun.”
“Add audience interaction—predicting winners or live raffles—to engage non-competitors.”
The room fell silent, stunned by Takuya’s plan.
This wasn’t just a tournament—it was a meticulously crafted blend of competition, entertainment, and star power.
“Our goal isn’t just a tournament,” Takuya stood, his gaze piercing.
“It’s to push Fatal Fury’s heat to new heights, embed esports in people’s minds, and amplify Sega’s brand among the youth.”
“This is another critical front, beyond the home console market.”
His words rang with unwavering confidence.
