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Chapter 110: Sony's Overbearing Move
🕑 Added 2025-10-05 12:17:37 +0000 UTCIn the sweltering summer afternoon, Tokyo’s sky hung low under heavy clouds, the cicadas’ shrill cries nearly tearing the thin air apart, stirring restlessness. Inside Sony’s electronic development lab, the air conditioning hummed just right, shielding the room from the outdoor heat.
Takuya Nakayama had just wrapped up a phase review on the LD (LaserDisc) arcade game’s assembly and debugging. Sony’s engineers were deeply passionate about this fusion of cutting-edge video tech, filling the conference table with jargon and data charts. Though young, Takuya held his own on technical details, engaging fluidly with the team and offering incisive insights that earned silent nods from the Sony techs.
As the meeting wound down, the mood eased. Ken Kutaragi, Sony’s esteemed technical backbone, personally refilled Takuya’s coffee. Gazing at this younger man—who already commanded a high executive role at Sega—Kutaragi’s face held a technician’s probing curiosity. Takuya’s professionalism and poise during the LD discussion had left a strong impression.
He set down the coffee pot, his fingertips absently tapping the cup handle, as if weighing his words.
“Executive Director Nakayama.”
Takuya, still eyeing the assembly debug work, didn’t turn. “What’s up?”
Kutaragi leaned forward slightly. “The gaming world’s been a whirlwind lately. Hudson and NEC’s PC Engine has stirred up such a storm it’s nearly flipped Akihabara on its head. Nintendo’s Yamauchi has retaliated with thunderbolts—rumor has it plenty of companies are keeping their heads down.”
He paused, his gaze sharpening on Takuya, as if searching for cracks in his calm facade.
“But Sega, of all times, seems eerily quiet. One arcade hit after another, top-notch quality, sure—but the home console market? It’s like it doesn’t exist for you.”
Kutaragi sipped his coffee, his eyes unmasked with curiosity—and a spectator’s subtle scrutiny.
“Honestly, Executive Director, does Sega really have no stake in this new console war? Or are you plotting something we don’t know about?”
The questions came rapid-fire, disguised as casual chat but laced with unavoidable probing. The lounge’s air thickened momentarily with the shift.
Takuya’s mind clicked into place. Without turning from the debug work, he chuckled lightly, a dismissive smile playing on his lips.
“Kutaragi-san, arcades are the real goldmine!”
He sauntered over and sank into the sofa beside Kutaragi, posture relaxed.
“Arcade operators don’t play favorites with publishers.”
“As long as it’s fun and profitable, they stock up eagerly.”
“Sega’s arcade dominance is rock-solid—reputation and channels like bedrock.”
He paused, lifting his coffee for a sip before continuing.
“Home consoles? Players might not bite, or shell out the cash—who knows?”
“Why ditch a steady cash cow for the bloody home market shark tank?”
Takuya’s words flowed breezily, though inwardly he mused: Sega’s entrenched arcade factions were a formidable force.
Especially after the SG-1000’s home console flop, those veterans’ influence had swelled, their sway immense.
This new home console push owed its survival to sharing a tech base with the System 16 arcade board, enabling quick ports—without that, internal pushback would’ve been brutal.
Kutaragi studied Takuya, seeing his unshakeable confidence in arcades and apparent disinterest in home consoles. A thoughtful glint crossed his eyes.
He nodded, dropping the line of inquiry and steering back to the project.
“Executive Director, take a look.”
Kutaragi gestured to a prototype LD arcade machine nearby, its metal shell gleaming coldly under the lights.
“Our hardware assembly and debugging are nearly done—the core system’s in place.”
“What about Sega’s side? When can we see the game content, especially the interactive video core?”
His tone held genuine concern for progress.
Takuya spread his hands in a mix of mock helplessness and anticipation.
“I’ve been waiting on Sony Music’s good news.”
He grinned, teasing. “I specifically mentioned needing the hottest tracks—or Sony’s upcoming blockbuster hits.”
“And the top choreographer I emphasized—where are they?”
Kutaragi’s face lit up with undisguised pride, clearly prepared and confident.
“Rest assured, Executive Director. Today’s the day you inspect the goods.”
Kutaragi turned, gesturing to a quiet, dark-skinned, athletic man standing behind him.
“This is Mr. LaVelle Smith Jr.”
He paused, watching Takuya’s reaction, then continued. “He’s the choreographer for the lead single on Michael Jackson’s groundbreaking album Bad, set for release this year.”
Kutaragi’s voice rose slightly, each word emphatic, laced with irrepressible pride and anticipation.
“And we at Sony Music have secured a fresh master tape of Bad’s lead single, just finished production.” He slowed deliberately, enunciating. “Today, you get a sneak peek!”
Finally, arms slightly spread as if unveiling a treasure: “This should prove Sony’s sincerity and strength, right?”
Michael Jackson!
Bad!
Master tape!
Choreographer in person!
Takuya’s eyes flickered—a past-life fan knew the King of Pop all too well. Sony’s move was massive, utterly overbearing.
Suppressing his thrill, Takuya stepped forward, gripping LaVelle Smith Jr.’s hand firmly—the robust dancer raised a brow at the strength.
“Mr. Smith, a pleasure! Honored to collaborate with you!” Takuya kept his excitement in check, chatting with Smith in English.
After the handshake, Takuya dove in impatiently, skipping further niceties to discuss the LD game’s dance segments in earnest English. His past-life roots meant unaccented Chinglish was passable for Smith—no translator needed. He moderated his pace, detailing dance requirements, linking them to gameplay, and suggesting synergistic features.
Smith, a pro, was initially surprised by the game-dance fusion but quickly grasped Takuya’s vision for the core choreography. Without sitting, he conferred briefly with his assistant, cued a portable recorder with a short rhythm, and began air-dancing—impromptu moves already echoing Bad’s essence, drawing nods and brighter eyes from Takuya.
Mid-discussion, Takuya slapped his thigh, turning to Kutaragi.
“Kutaragi-san, costumes!”
“Props too!” He feigned sudden recall.
“Best to fully replicate Michael Jackson’s iconic Bad MV look—leather jacket, metal buckles, zippers, even his signature gestures. Every detail counts!”
“For peak audiovisual immersion! When Bad sweeps the globe, our game will be the arcade’s brightest stage.”
