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Chapter 3 - The First Development
🕑 Added 2025-09-13 03:28:09 +0000 UTCThe café’s doorbell jingled lightly as Ryōji Itō’s figure vanished beyond the glass window.
Takuya Nakayama stood up, finishing the last sip of his now-cool Blue Mountain coffee, the cup’s bottom stained like dried ink.
He had no intention of lingering. Waiting was never his style, especially in this era full of variables.
He wasn’t about to passively rely on vague news from his senior.
After all, his mind was loaded with decades’ worth of gaming treasures from the future.
The apartment in Meguro-ku was small, even a bit cluttered, starkly contrasting the orderly solemnity of the Nakayama family mansion.
A few geology and programming books were haphazardly stacked in a corner, exuding the distinct smell of old paper.
This was the apartment the original owner had rented during university. He hadn’t given it up after graduation, as its location was conveniently close to both Sega’s headquarters and the Nakayama mansion, allowing him some personal space.
He deftly lifted the dust cover off a beige computer, pressed the power button, and the screen hummed faintly as it warmed up.
Green characters flickered to life on a black background, signaling the boot-up of the MS-DOS system.
This machine’s performance was decent for 1985 but felt like an antique compared to the equipment he’d used in his previous life.
Still, it was enough.
His fingers danced across the keyboard, the crisp tapping sounds rhythmic in the quiet room.
Assembly language, a tedious low-level language for many, came alive under his fingertips.
The original owner’s academic prowess from Tokyo Institute of Technology awakened like memories etched in DNA, intertwining with his knowledge of Tetris’s mechanics from his previous life.
On the screen, lines of code scrolled rapidly, building the core logic for falling, rotating, and clearing blocks.
Tetris, the Russian puzzle game.
This simple yet endlessly captivating game was his chosen first target.
He needed a compelling “work” to prove himself to his father and Sega, not just empty theories.
Asking Ryōji Itō to seek out the Soviet version was merely a pretext to justify to Sega that the game had an owner and would require purchasing its rights.
Mere replication wasn’t enough. A subtle smirk curved Takuya Nakayama’s lips.
He needed a true “surprise”—something to impress his stoic father and make Sega’s seasoned veterans take notice.
In his mind, a mode that would later sweep the world began to take shape.
What if… clearing blocks on one side created obstacles for an opponent?
He paused his typing, fingers hovering, eyes gleaming with excitement.
Yes—“garbage lines”!
Clearing two lines would raise a row of tricky gray obstacle blocks at the opponent’s base.
This instantly transformed a solo puzzle game into a dynamic, competitive arena!
No one in this era had played like this before. He dove into developing the new feature.
Days later, an MS-DOS version of Tetris with both classic and innovative versus modes took shape.
He tested it repeatedly, clearing blocks, generating “garbage” for a virtual opponent, tweaking difficulty and balance to ensure flawless logic and smooth performance.
While he was debugging, the doorbell rang.
It was his sister, Ayako Nakayama, carrying a delicate gift box, her face adorned with a gentle smile.
As she slipped off her shoes, Ayako said, “When I returned from America and visited Father, he mentioned you’re joining Sega to develop games but haven’t reported to work yet. I knew you’d be holed up here.”
Ayako entered, placing the gift box on the table, her curious gaze falling on the monochromatic falling blocks on the screen.
“What’s this? A computer game?”
“Yeah, a… little project,” Takuya Nakayama said, wiping sweat from his brow, a spark of anticipation in his heart. “I coded it myself. It’s called Tetris. Want to try it, Sis? I added a two-player versus mode.”
“Me?” Ayako hesitated, not usually into “boy stuff.”
“Come on, it’s simple,” Takuya urged warmly.
At first, Ayako sat down indulgently, clumsily maneuvering the keyboard under Takuya’s guidance.
Blocks moved awkwardly, rotated, and fell, occasionally clearing a line or two.
Gradually, she became engrossed. Though her refined demeanor kept her from shouting, her focus and excitement with each cleared line were palpable.
After a few rounds, especially when Takuya switched to versus mode and bombarded her with “garbage lines,” leaving her screen cluttered and ending the game, her expression shifted.
It was a mix of frustration, determination, and intense curiosity, so much so that she forgot to mention the gift she’d brought.
“One more round!” Ayako quickly hit the restart key, her usually composed cheeks slightly flushed, her tone eager. “This time, I won’t lose!”
Seeing his sister fully immersed, Takuya Nakayama felt confident.
This game’s allure truly transcended gender and era.
Ayako’s reaction confirmed the potential of Tetris and its versus mode.
But Takuya Nakayama didn’t let this early success go to his head.
After dinner, he sent his sister off and leaned back in his chair, gazing at the dark night sky outside, the city’s neon lights reflecting on his face.
Nintendo’s Famicom loomed like a giant shadow over the home console market.
Super Mario Bros.’s iconic mechanics were like a textbook standard for side-scrolling games in this era, outshining all competitors.
Sega’s SG-1000 and Mark III, despite their efforts, struggled to keep up in this market.
Releasing Tetris or any new game on home consoles now would be like throwing precious ammunition into a bottomless pit.
The investment would be huge, the risks high, and the returns uncertain—a poor effort-to-reward ratio.
But… what about the arcade market?
Takuya Nakayama’s eyes sharpened.
That was another battlefield. Though fiercely competitive, Sega wasn’t powerless there.
Sega had deep expertise in arcades, with strong technical capabilities and distribution channels.
Game centers across the country were the perfect testing ground and promotional platform.
A successful arcade game could generate immediate cash flow, boost brand reputation, refine core gameplay, build player loyalty, and validate an IP’s value.
Yes, the focus should be on arcades first.
A stunning, coin-devouring arcade game—or several—could reignite players’ enthusiasm for Sega.
By next year, when the 16-bit Mega Drive, Sega’s hope for a comeback, launched, these market-tested, fan-favorite arcade hits would serve as the most solid, reliable first-party launch titles!
This was the safest and most effective strategy. Pair it with a few new games tailored to the 16-bit console’s capabilities, and it could establish a strong install base.
The strategic direction was set. So, what type of arcade game should he develop next?
With Tetris as a stellar puzzle game candidate, perhaps… something more suited to the arcade vibe, more “hardcore,” showcasing Sega’s technical prowess?
His fingers tapped rhythmically on the cool desktop, his mind racing like a high-speed CPU, diving into the vast ocean of gaming memories, searching for titles that had once dominated arcade halls.
