Ajal.
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Chapter 99: Setback
🕑 Added 2025-10-01 11:36:00 +0000 UTCThe next day, Takuya drove to Technosoft’s office.
Technosoft was a company specializing in shoot ’em up games, with their Thunder Force series boasting a loyal fanbase on both arcade and console platforms. While this genre was relatively niche, its players were fiercely dedicated and had high expectations for quality.
Technosoft’s office was located in a Tokyo suburb, housed in an industrial-style building. Unlike the previous two companies, the atmosphere here was rugged and direct. The walls were adorned with sci-fi spaceship and mech designs, and several computers in the office displayed game test footage, punctuated by the sounds of intense explosions and gunfire.
“Executive Director Nakayama, welcome!” Fumio Oyama greeted Takuya warmly. As Technosoft’s president, Oyama was a robust man in his fifties with a booming voice, exuding reliability.
They moved to a meeting room where tea and snacks were already prepared. Unlike the formal settings of previous companies, the atmosphere here was casual and straightforward.
“I hear Sega’s launching a 16-bit console?” Oyama got straight to the point. “How’s its performance? Can it handle our shoot ’em up games?”
Takuya smiled and pulled a document from his briefcase. “These are the technical specifications. I’m confident Technosoft’s expertise can fully tap into this console’s potential.”
Oyama skimmed the document, letting out occasional sounds of approval. “Processing speed, color rendering… these specs are impressive.”
“That’s why,” Takuya said, meeting Oyama’s gaze, “I hope Technosoft can port your classic arcade shooters to our new console and develop a brand-new flagship shoot ’em up title.”
Oyama set down the document, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Honestly, we’ve always wanted to deliver a true arcade experience on home consoles. But 8-bit systems forced us to make compromises.”
“Those compromises are now a thing of the past,” Takuya said firmly. “Sega’s new console has the power to support your wildest ideas.”
Oyama stood and walked to a concept sketch on the wall—a futuristic warship surrounded by swarms of enemy ships and bullet trails.
“We’ve long had a vision for a game blending bullet hell and traditional shooting elements, with hundreds of enemies and bullets on-screen at once, delivering a spectacular yet smooth experience,” Oyama said, his voice brimming with passion. “But on current consoles, it’s just a pipe dream.”
Takuya joined him, studying the sketch. “On Sega’s new console, that dream can become reality.”
“And more,” Takuya continued. “We also hope Technosoft will consider developing a shooter tailored for family entertainment, perhaps with co-op modes to let players enjoy the game with friends and family.”
Oyama nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right—shooters shouldn’t be limited to hardcore players. Lowering the difficulty and adding co-op could draw in a broader audience.”
“Exactly,” Takuya said with a smile. “We want Sega’s new console to cater to everyone, from hardcore enthusiasts to casual family players.”
Oyama extended his hand, and Takuya shook it firmly. “Executive Director Nakayama, you can count on Technosoft to deliver a jaw-dropping shooter experience for the new console.”
As Takuya left Technosoft, night had fallen. Tokyo’s skyline shimmered with vibrant neon lights. Standing by his car, he took a deep breath, feeling a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction from the day’s efforts.
Three companies, three different game genres, three distinct partnership models. COMPILE’s “Sega All-Stars Party Game” would appeal to families; Game Arts’ premium RPG would satisfy story-driven players; Technosoft’s shooters would captivate hardcore gamers. This lineup would create a diverse game ecosystem for Sega’s new console.
Takuya slid into his car and started the engine. Today’s achievements were gratifying, but they were just the beginning. More third-party developers awaited, and more game genres needed coverage. Only by building a robust third-party developer network could Sega truly challenge Nintendo’s dominance.
The RX7’s engine roared into the night, and Takuya’s mind was already mapping out his next stop. The journey was long, but he believed Sega’s future would shine brighter because of these efforts.
At three in the afternoon, in the executive director’s office on the top floor of Sega’s headquarters, the air conditioning couldn’t dispel the gloom on Masao Suzuki’s face.
The seasoned marketing veteran looked as heavy as the previous night’s Tokyo downpour.
“Executive Director Nakayama, I regret to inform you,” Suzuki said, placing a fax on Takuya’s desk, the paper still warm from the machine.
“Sunrise has formally rejected our licensing request.”
Takuya set down his pen, his gaze shifting from a project proposal to the fax.
The text was brief and cold, leaving no room for negotiation.
“What’s the reason?”
Takuya’s tone was surprisingly calm, as if he’d just heard the weather forecast.
Suzuki adjusted his glasses, his brow furrowed.
“The official reason is ‘strategic adjustments, no new licensing partnerships at this time.’”
“But based on our industry contacts, Bandai is indeed pulling strings behind the scenes.”
The office clock ticked, each sound underscoring the urgency of time.
Takuya stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at Tokyo’s bustling streets.
“Bandai’s ties with Sunrise are deep-rooted,” he said.
“Their licensing revenue from Bandai’s model kits accounts for nearly thirty percent of Sunrise’s annual income.”
Suzuki added from behind, “What’s worse, Bandai holds an eight percent stake in Sunrise, giving them influence on the board.”
Takuya turned, his face showing no trace of frustration or anger.
His calm demeanor caught Suzuki off guard, even unsettling him.
“Mr. Suzuki, this was expected,” Takuya said.
“Sunrise was always going to be a tough nut to crack.”
He returned to his desk, his fingers lightly tapping the surface.
“Since Sunrise is out for now, we’ll adjust our strategy.”
“Toei will likely be a tough fight too—Bandai’s reach is longer than we anticipated.”
Suzuki nodded in agreement, though his eyes still carried worry.
“So what’s our next move?”
Takuya spread a sheet of paper on the desk, quickly sketching circles and connecting them with lines.
“Start with the easier targets and build momentum.”
“Shift our focus to Voyager Holdings and Tohokushinsha to secure the Space Battleship Yamato license first.”
“These two companies are relatively independent, not as deeply tied to Bandai as Sunrise.”
Suzuki’s eyes brightened.
“Indeed, Space Battleship Yamato holds as much weight with players as Gundam does.”
“Securing this IP first would boost team morale and give us leverage and experience for future negotiations.”
Takuya nodded.
“Exactly. With Yamato in hand, we’ll have more credibility when approaching other copyright holders.”
“It’ll show them our respect for classic works and our ability to promote them.”
The two discussed specific outreach methods and negotiation strategies for another half hour.
Suzuki jotted down every key point, ready to act immediately.
“One more thing, Mr. Suzuki,” Takuya said as Suzuki prepared to leave.
“Don’t rush for quick wins. It’s better to move slowly and ensure every step is solid.”
“We’re not after a one-off deal but long-term partnerships.”
