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Chapter 42 - Ripples and Momentum
🕑 Added 2025-09-15 11:46:22 +0000 UTCTokyo, Ota Ward, Namco headquarters.
Masaya Nakamura stood before the president’s office’s large floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the bustling streets below.
Reports of Fatal Fury’s anime premiere and its “second wave” arcade frenzy reached his desk first thing.
The “unprecedented” gameplay tutorial at the anime’s end was bolded in the report.
Morning sunlight streamed through the glass, yet it couldn’t dispel the shadow in Nakamura’s heart.
Compared to the tepid market response to Namco’s Famicom Pac-Man, Sega’s scene blazed like wildfire.
The stark contrast—ice versus fire—stirred a heavy mix of frustration and reluctance in him.
Nintendo’s “precise” snipe not only failed to dent Sega but made Fatal Fury shine brighter, like a clumsy clown spotlighting the star.
Sega… no, Takuya Nakayama, had found a new path.
A magic conduit channeling anime, manga, and all entertainment hype into the game, converting it into revenue and player loyalty with pinpoint efficiency.
And Namco?
Still tiptoeing on Nintendo’s track, unable to innovate with its classic IP without Kyoto’s approval, reduced to a pawn on their board.
Nakamura turned silently from the vibrant streets.
On his desk lay a request for Nintendo’s approval of Pac-Man’s follow-up promotions, mocking him wordlessly.
Late January, Osaka.
Konami headquarters, president’s office, heavy atmosphere.
President Kagemasa Kozuki’s gaze fixed on a sales report.
A chart for their shooter TwinBee.
Released January 4, its sales climbed steadily, as expected.
But post-January 11, the curve plunged, tracing a sharp, ongoing decline.
His eyes drifted past the window to a bustling commercial district. Arcade halls there displayed large Fatal Fury posters. He felt the market storm Fatal Fury unleashed, its heat permeating Osaka’s air despite the distance.
In the office, Konami executives sat rigidly.
Kozuki’s fingers tapped the desk rhythmically. “Fatal Fury’s momentum is fiercer than we expected,” he said, voice calm but weighty.
“Arcade, anime, tutorials—Sega’s combo is precise, with phenomenal impact.”
He paused, scanning the room. “Their target—teens—overlaps heavily with our upcoming Famicom games.”
Konami’s efforts couldn’t be drowned out as background noise in someone else’s celebration.
Kozuki’s eyes hardened, deciding. “Delay Goonies, Circus Charlie, and, most critically, Gradius’s Famicom versions, all planned for the first half.”
“How long?” an executive asked cautiously.
“Half a month to a month, depending on the market. At least until early April, after Fatal Fury’s anime ends.”
His tone was resolute. “We avoid Fatal Fury’s sharpest phase.”
Decision made, the executive handling Nintendo liaison dialed Kyoto.
He explained Konami’s adjusted release plan, citing market strategy to dodge Fatal Fury’s impact.
The Nintendo contact’s voice came through, emotionless but faintly cold. “Oh?”
A simple question, laced with subtle chill. “Just one competitor’s market move shakes your confidence in your flagship, especially Gradius?”
The voice stayed neutral but struck hard. “President Kozuki should know our generous royalty reductions for Konami rest on trust in your products’ strength and market pull.”
The tone turned condescending. “If you retreat from this breeze, we may need to reassess that ‘trust’ and its ‘privileges.’” The call ended.
Not just questioning Konami’s resolve, but threatening to tweak royalty terms.
The executive’s grip tightened, sweat beading on his forehead. He felt Kyoto’s unyielding control.
He reported to Kozuki.
Kozuki’s face darkened, silent, fingers brushing the desk’s smooth edge.
Nintendo’s rules.
Even a thriving Konami had to tread carefully under their gaze.
He waved a hand, acknowledging. For now, endurance.
Meanwhile, Kyoto.
Nintendo headquarters, Development Department One, a different scene.
Unlike the external market’s chaos and third-party struggles, focus and tension reigned.
Bright lights, air tinged with circuit boards and coffee.
Developers hunched over workstations, keyboards clacking, test equipment buzzing.
Shigeru Miyamoto sat, meticulously reviewing a final feedback report.
Every datum, every detail, scrutinized.
Satisfied, he signed “The Legend of Zelda - Final Check,” pen scratching softly.
The act marked the completion of a highly anticipated work, The Legend of Zelda, flagship for the Famicom Disk System.
Miyamoto leaned back, exhaling, face tired but eyes gleaming.
Footsteps approached. Gunpei Yokoi arrived, grinning broadly.
He picked up the freshly tested Zelda disk, eyes alight with excitement and admiration.
From testing, he’d felt its uniqueness.
Hyrule’s vast world, unbound by cartridge limits.
Deep, free exploration gameplay.
Polished visuals and captivating music.
Every detail screamed “masterpiece.”
Yokoi clapped Miyamoto’s shoulder. “Miyamoto, brilliant work!”
His voice brimmed with sincere praise and confidence. “This is epoch-defining!”
He shook the disk, eyes bright. “With Zelda anchoring, I’m more confident than ever in our upcoming Disk System!”
“It’ll sell big!”
“We’ll set a new, unshakable console benchmark!”
Miyamoto, smiling wearily, nodded firmly.
Yes.
No matter the external storms or rivals’ tricks, victory rested on solid technology and superior content.
Nintendo’s true ace.
