The meeting didn't last long. The AI chip manufacturer's CEO admitted fault very straightforwardly.
There really was a problem with the yield rate of this batch of AI chips.
Cyberpunk 2077 was merely the fuse.
Even without Cyberpunk 2077, some other trigger would inevitably have caused the same incident sooner or later.
The chip manufacturer's CEO was equally decisive. He was willing to compensate Gamestar Electronic Entertainment for reputational damage and to cooperate fully on remedial measures.
AI chips were still an emerging industry in this world, so problems of this kind were almost inevitable.
This was precisely why most companies were reluctant to adopt cutting-edge technologies too quickly.
Only once a technology had proven sufficiently stable would they consider using it.
Otherwise, even if a CEO personally wanted to take the risk, shareholders would do everything possible to force them to abandon such ideas.
But at Gamestar Electronic Entertainment, as long as Takayuki made a decision, there were no insurmountable problems—and no fear of trouble.
Takayuki was equally decisive. He wanted to act before large-scale console failures erupted among players.
Previously, the engineering department had suggested lowering Cyberpunk 2077's performance demands, but that would only solve the problem temporarily.
Future games wouldn't necessarily enjoy the same first-party, near-perfect optimization that Cyberpunk 2077 had.
Optimization levels varied wildly across third-party studios.
If those developers were forced to work on an unstable hardware platform, the likelihood of similar incidents would only increase in the future.
So Takayuki issued a new order directly during the company meeting:
Recall all AI chips from batches that had already been confirmed to suffer large-scale yield degradation.
Since the AI chip manufacturer would bear most of the cost, Takayuki saw no reason to hold back.
As for the manufacturer's CEO, he could only accept the decision with a heavy heart.
After all, Gamestar Electronic Entertainment was currently the world's largest purchaser of AI chips.
Keeping this biggest client satisfied and stable was the top priority—everything else was secondary.
Next, the chip manufacturer would produce a new batch of AI chips specifically for gaming consoles.
Every chip would undergo at least 100 hours of high-intensity stress testing, ensuring sufficient durability under extreme loads.
At the same time, Takayuki didn't push all responsibility onto the manufacturer.
On Gamestar's side, performance stress testing during game development had indeed been insufficient, and that needed to be fixed.
The company would establish a dedicated performance stress-testing team.
Their sole job would be to push consoles to their absolute limits using existing games—trying every possible way to break them.
If someone managed to destroy a console through gameplay alone, they'd receive a bonus.
Once internal matters were settled, Takayuki moved on to the public response.
Murakami Kazuo stared blankly at his smoking console.
He had been playing Cyberpunk 2077 on that machine for over a month.
At first, the cooling fan would spin wildly, but he hadn't paid much attention.
Later, the fan ran faster and faster, and after prolonged high-speed operation, it began to struggle.
The console grew louder and louder.
All of it was the result of his intense Cyberpunk 2077 sessions.
And now, the console had quite literally been played to death.
What the hell just happened?
For a moment, Murakami couldn't figure it out.
Why had his console suddenly blown up?
He got his answer soon enough.
Gamestar Electronic Entertainment released an official announcement.
Due to a yield issue affecting the AI processor chips, prolonged play sessions of Cyberpunk 2077 could cause console damage.
In response, Gamestar announced a public recall of specific console batches.
The recall would cover approximately two million units.
All recall costs would be borne jointly by Gamestar and the AI chip manufacturer.
Players whose consoles fell within the affected batches were advised to upload their save data to the cloud.
Cloud saves were now free worldwide, allowing players to securely store their hard-earned progress and prevent data loss due to hardware failure.
Then the recall process began.
At first, some players were reluctant.
They felt it was troublesome—and sending the console back meant they wouldn't be able to play for quite some time.
They still wanted their consoles to pass the time.
Soon after, Gamestar released a second announcement.
Every recalled console owner would receive a game redemption voucher.
The voucher could be exchanged for any title in the digital store.
Gamestar also guaranteed that a replacement console would be delivered within one week.
At that point, players were more than happy to comply.
After all, they'd be getting a free game.
Gamestar's library of top-tier titles was extensive.
Most players wouldn't hesitate—they'd simply redeem a first-party flagship title.
Pokémon. The Legend of Zelda. Final Fantasy.
There was no downside.
The only cost was losing a week of playtime—an easy trade-off.
Of the two million recalled consoles, about half contained AI chips that failed to meet acceptable yield standards.
Those chips should never have entered the market at all.
Or at the very least, they should have been downgraded for lower-performance use.
The manufacturer's mistake this time was undeniably serious.
The CEO had practically cursed out the engineers responsible for design and manufacturing.
But he didn't dare fire them.
He still needed those people to create better products—and make more money in the future.
The remaining half of recalled consoles used chips that barely met minimum standards.
But under Cyberpunk 2077's extreme load, they simply couldn't cope, so they too were recalled.
In the end, the quality threshold for AI chips was raised:
Only chips capable of sustaining 120% stress levels would be considered acceptable.
All future AI chips would adhere to this new standard, ensuring that incidents like Cyberpunk 2077 would not happen again in this generation.
Thus, Gamestar Electronic Entertainment decisively eliminated a public relations crisis before it could fully erupt.
It also served as a wake-up call for Takayuki.
While pushing the limits of game development, console quality could never be taken lightly.
In the future, the engineering teams would need to be far more meticulous.
The next generation of consoles must not repeat this mistake.
Because if it happened again, Takayuki couldn't guarantee he'd be able to catch it early—and crush it in the cradle.