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Chapter 96: The Temptation of the New Console
🕑 Added 2025-09-30 11:31:27 +0000 UTCThe photograph depicted a never-before-seen console prototype connected to a television, its screen prominently displaying Tetris.
But this was no version known to the market.
The image showed four distinct color-coded and shaped block areas, indicating a multiplayer mode for four simultaneous players!
Even more astonishing, despite being just a photograph, the vibrancy and detail of the game’s visuals were palpable.
The graphical quality far surpassed anything available on existing home consoles, approaching the level of cutting-edge arcade machines.
Hironobu Sakaguchi, being a game developer with a keen sensitivity to technology, couldn’t help but blurt out, “This… this is a 16-bit console?!”
Takuya smiled and nodded, confirming Sakaguchi’s guess.
“Correct. Which is why I must ask both of you to keep everything you’ve seen today strictly confidential.”
Masashi Miyamoto’s fingers grazed the edge of the photograph, the shock in his eyes still lingering.
A 16-bit console?
Sega had already progressed to this level?
Sakaguchi leaned forward instinctively, his eyes locked on the photo’s details, as if trying to imprint every pixel into his memory. During the development of Final Fantasy, he had often been forced to compromise his creative vision due to hardware limitations. This breakthrough made his breath quicken.
Sakaguchi suddenly looked up. “If we could develop an RPG on hardware like this…” He paused, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “We could implement more complex battle systems, larger world maps, and grander storytelling!”
Miyamoto’s heart stirred. He rarely saw Sakaguchi this animated. The company’s recent struggles had dulled the creative director’s passion, but now it seemed reignited.
“Don’t get too excited,” Miyamoto cautioned, glancing at Sakaguchi before turning to Takuya. “This kind of technology must be expensive. Will consumers accept the cost?”
Takuya retrieved the photograph and placed it back in his briefcase.
“It’s indeed pricier than current consoles,” he admitted candidly, “but our market research shows that true gamers are willing to pay for a leap in quality. Moreover…” He paused, flashing a meaningful smile. “If you partner with us, Square can gain early access to our development kits, giving you a head start.”
Sakaguchi’s mind was already conjuring images of Final Fantasy running on this new console—what a visual spectacle it would be!
“I’ve heard that Square is pouring everything into the Final Fantasy project,” Takuya continued. “I deeply admire that do-or-die spirit.”
Miyamoto’s eyes flickered. Final Fantasy was indeed Square’s last hope, with nearly all their resources and efforts staked on it. Failure would likely mean the end of Square in the gaming industry.
“And Sega,” Takuya went on, “is investing all its resources with the same determination to break Nintendo’s absolute monopoly in the home console market.”
“In a sense, we’re kindred spirits.”
His words subtly shifted the atmosphere in the room.
Kindred spirits?
Indeed, both Square and Sega were challenging giants in their respective fields, living in the shadow of Nintendo’s dominance.
“If we could make Final Fantasy one of the launch titles for the new console…” Sakaguchi mused, unable to resist considering the possibilities.
Miyamoto raised a hand to calm him, though his own pulse quickened. Sega’s proposal was like a lifeline appearing just as they were on the brink of sinking. Yet, his businessman’s instincts urged caution—things were rarely this straightforward.
“Executive Director Nakayama,” Miyamoto said, meeting Takuya’s gaze directly, “it sounds like a mutually beneficial arrangement, but why Square? There are more stable game developers in the market.”
Takuya didn’t answer immediately. He stood and walked to the office window, gazing out at Tokyo’s cityscape.
“Because even in the face of adversity, you choose to innovate rather than stagnate. That’s the most valuable quality in an industry driven by creativity,” he said, turning back to face them. “That’s the kind of partner Sega needs.”
Takuya leaned forward, his tone growing more earnest.
“President Miyamoto, allow me to elaborate on Sega’s third-party developer policies for the new console.”
“These policies are fundamentally different from Nintendo’s approach.”
Miyamoto and Sakaguchi exchanged a glance, surprise flickering in their eyes. Nintendo’s draconian terms had long been a source of frustration, reducing developers to near-servitude.
“First, regarding review and distribution,” Takuya said, raising a finger. “Sega will focus on ensuring the final quality of games and maintaining transparent, accurate distribution metrics.”
“Unlike Nintendo, we won’t excessively meddle in game content. As long as the content is legal, compliant, and not shoddily made, Sega will not interfere.”
Sakaguchi sat up straighter. Memories of Final Fantasy’s design concepts being repeatedly rejected and revised by Nintendo flooded back. Creative freedom was a holy grail for developers.
“So we can create according to our own vision, without the review team micromanaging us?” Sakaguchi asked, unable to hold back.
Takuya nodded with a smile. “Exactly. We trust developers’ creativity, not restrict it.”
“Second, production autonomy,” Takuya continued. “Third-party developers can freely choose to work with any of Sega’s designated cartridge manufacturers, negotiating production quantities and delivery schedules independently.”
Miyamoto’s brow relaxed slightly. This addressed one of their biggest pain points—Nintendo’s control over production often left them grappling with shortages or overstock.
“Whether it’s additional orders or managing excess inventory, third parties will negotiate directly with manufacturers. Sega won’t impose unreasonable interference or risk-shifting clauses.”
Miyamoto frowned. “This sounds almost too ideal. Nintendo maintains market control through its grip on the production chain. Why is Sega willing to let go?”
Takuya set down his teacup. “Because we want to win the market, not control it. Control only shrinks the pie.”
“Third, low royalty fees,” Takuya said with a confident edge. “Sega will only take a small royalty percentage, far lower than Nintendo’s current terms.”
Sakaguchi began scribbling calculations in his notebook. Lower royalties could mean reintegrating creative elements they’d been forced to cut.
“How much, specifically?” Miyamoto asked.
“Nintendo starts at 30%. We’ll take 20%, and only after release.”
The room fell silent, the sound of breathing almost audible.
“Fourth, we only require launch exclusivity, not full exclusivity. Sega doesn’t mandate that third-party titles be exclusive, only that new titles debut on our console in the home market.”
Sakaguchi could already envision Final Fantasy shining on a 16-bit console. “What if we choose to make it exclusive?” he asked.
Takuya’s smile betrayed his confidence. “If a third-party developer voluntarily opts for exclusivity on Sega’s console, we’ll reduce the royalty fee by an additional 20% as an incentive.”
Miyamoto stared at Takuya, as if trying to read his intentions. “These terms are almost too good to be true. Can Sega’s leadership really agree to this?”
A flicker passed through Takuya’s eyes, recalling last week’s heated boardroom meeting. He had fought tooth and nail against skeptical executives, arguing that overly harsh terms would alienate partners before the console had a chance to succeed. He’d barely secured these policies.
Deep down, he despised the short-sighted “bleed-them-dry” mentality prevalent in Japanese business.
“To be honest, it wasn’t easy,” Takuya admitted. “But I fought for it. I firmly believe that only by growing together with our partners can we truly expand the pie.”
Miyamoto picked up the photograph again, the 16-bit console gleaming under the light like a symbol of the future.
“Executive Director Nakayama, if Square joins Sega’s camp, when could our games hit the market?” Sakaguchi asked, his tone brimming with eagerness.
“If all goes smoothly, by the first half of next year, when Sega’s console officially launches, a new Final Fantasy could debut as a flagship title.”
Sakaguchi slammed his teacup down. “My God, that’s thrilling! We can start revising our development plans immediately!”
Miyamoto gestured for Sakaguchi to calm down, but his own lips curved upward uncontrollably. Sega’s powerful new console, Takuya’s sincerity and foresight, and these almost unbelievably favorable terms—it was like a ray of light piercing the darkness of their despair.
Still, Miyamoto’s businessman instincts kept him cautious. “Executive Director Nakayama, we’ll need time to consider.”
Takuya nodded readily. “Of course. I look forward to Square’s wise decision.”
As he left the office, Miyamoto and Sakaguchi could already sense a turning point for Square on the horizon.
