The screen remained pitch black, with only a few red polygons flickering in the distance.
He tried to take aim.
There was no lock-on assist, and the crosshair drifted aimlessly against the black background.
The mech's movement had zero inertia; the moment a button was pressed, the Gundam simply slid away.
His roommate wandered over with a bowl of instant noodles and glanced at the screen.
"Why is your Gundam spinning like a top?"
"I don't know, I only nudged the joystick." Sato's face was pale, his fingers still rigidly pressed against the directional keys.
"Which way are you flying?"
"I don't know! It's all black; I can't even tell up from down!"
"Wait, where's the enemy mech?" his roommate asked, pointing to the corner of the screen.
The view swung around, a Zaku's face slammed right into the screen, and then the image went into another wild spin.
His roommate felt his stomach churning.
"Stop playing, just watching this makes me want to puke."
Ten minutes later, Sato put down the controller, covered his mouth, and dashed to the bathroom.
Severe symptoms of 3D motion sickness.
"Stop playing, just watching you makes me feel sick."
Ten minutes later, Sato put down the controller, covered his mouth, and rushed to the restroom.
A severe case of motion sickness from 3D gaming.
The scene shifted too fast, and with a lack of spatial reference points, the brain's balance system completely collapsed.
Thousands of Gundam fans across Japan experienced the same torment that night.
The next morning, as soon as the major game retailers in Akihabara opened, they were met by angry gamers.
"Boss, I want a refund."
"Opened games cannot be returned or exchanged; that's the rule," the clerk said, pointing to the notice on the wall.
"This is unplayable! I get dizzy and nauseous after ten minutes. You're selling poison!" The player slammed the disc case onto the counter.
Arguments broke out one after another.
With refunds out of the question, many players turned and flocked to second-hand stores.
The manager of Trader Akihabara No. 1 store looked at the line of customers outside and felt a chill down his spine.
Everyone in the line was holding a copy of "Gundam Battlefield Evolution."
"Purchase price: 500 yen," the manager offered, naming an extremely low price in an attempt to turn them away.
"500 is fine, just take it. I never want to see this thing again in my life," the customer agreed without hesitation.
By noon, the shelves of the second-hand store were piled high with this game.
The price, which had been 4,800 yen at launch, plummeted to 1,000 yen, yet it still found no takers.
Before noon, the shelves of the second-hand store were already piled high with this game.
The price had plummeted from 4,800 yen at launch to a mere 1,000 yen, yet it still garnered no interest.
A gamer who had just failed to return the game rushed in: "Boss, are you buying Bandai's Gundam?"
The manager pointed to the back: "See for yourself."
The gamer peeked and saw dozens of identical game boxes stacked in the corner.
"This... how much will you pay for it?"
"100 yen. Not a yen more. You can't even use this disc to steady a wobbly table," the manager said irritably.
The gamer gritted his teeth: "100 it is! Bandai, give me back my hard-earned money!"
By the afternoon, the second-hand store had put up a sign that read: "Gundam Battlefield Evolution Not Accepted."
At Bandai headquarters.
Makoto Yamashina looked at the sales feedback report in his hands.
First-day sales were 100,000 copies, but by the second day, they had plummeted to less than 1,000.
Retailers' calls demanding returns had flooded the sales department's landlines.
Chuta Mitsui stood in front of the desk, his forehead covered in sweat.
"Is this the answer you've given me?" Yamashina threw the report onto the desk.
Chuta Mitsui wiped away his sweat. "President, the Development Department has done its best. The threshold for 3D game development is too high, and we lack the necessary talent and engines. To have achieved even this much is already—"
"Already shameless, is that it?" Makoto Yamashina interrupted him. "Go look at the reviews outside! Players are saying we're selling poisonous sludge that makes people throw up! Is this what you call 'space zero-gravity realism'? Players don't even know where they are. Where's the realism? Is it the realism of throwing up in the bathroom?!"
Chuta Mitsui lowered his head, not daring to reply.
"Sega's Gundam Battle Operation is making money and earning a reputation in the arcades, while our own game has become the laughingstock of the industry." Makoto Yamashina leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Call the head of the Game Development Department here."
"President, the Development Manager... he called in sick today."
Makoto Yamashina sneered.
Calling in sick at a time like this—it was nothing more than hiding away, knowing he was about to get scolded.
"Send out the notice: stop all further shipments of 'Gundam Battlefield Evolution'. Accept return requests from retailers."
"President, the losses from this————"
"The company will bear the losses. If we don't recall this trash, Bandai's reputation in the gaming industry will be completely ruined." Makoto Yamashina rubbed his temples.
He recalled Takuya Nakayama's previous proposal to merge Bandai's game division with Sega.
At the time, he had been hesitant, still wanting to preserve Bandai's dignity.
That dignity had long since been torn to shreds by his own people.
If they couldn't even make a decent 3D game, what leverage did they have to negotiate with Sega?
The next day, at Bandai headquarters, in the top-floor conference room.
The long conference table was filled with Bandai executives.
On the table lay stacks of documents; the one on top was the return statistics report for "Gundam Battlefield Evolution".
Makoto Yamashina sat at the head of the table, his fingers unconsciously tracing the rim of his teacup.
The tea had long since gone cold.
"In Akihabara, second-hand stores won't even offer a hundred yen to buy them back," Chuta Mitsui broke the silence, his voice dry.
A few stifled coughs echoed in the meeting room.
The Development Manager of the gaming division hadn't come today; he had called in sick.
Everyone present knew perfectly well that this "illness" was brought on by fear.
Objectively speaking, Bandai's current financial situation was far better than it had been at this same point in the previous life.
In 1995, in that previous life, Bandai had partnered with Apple to develop a game console called the Bandai Pippin Atmark in order to get a slice of the console wars.
That machine was priced as high as 64,800 yen. Bandai's original production target was 500,000 units, but they ended up selling a mere 42,000 units worldwide, and the massive losses almost cost Bandai everything they had.
In comparison, in this life, Bandai had only messed up one game for a 32-bit console.
The game medium was optical discs, and the cost of stocking inventory was far lower than manufacturing hardware.
Counting up the damages from this mess, at most it will make the financial report look bad; it won't be a crippling blow.
The real problem lies with morale.
The "Gundam Battlefield Evolution" project was the last chance the entire Bandai company, while holding their noses, granted the gaming division.
Management didn't even explicitly call it an "ultimatum," which was a gesture of keeping face.
And yet, this group handed in a piece of electronic trash that didn't even know which way was up.
The collapse of confidence was devastating.
"What's the current state of the gaming division?" Makoto Yamashina asked, looking at the HR manager.
The HR manager opened his notebook and reported dryly, "Since yesterday afternoon, employees in Development Sections 1 and 2 have essentially been at a standstill. No one is touching the code; everyone is just staring blankly at their desks or packing up their personal belongings. They are afraid to take on any more development work. The Technical Director has submitted his resignation, citing that his skills are insufficient to meet the development demands of the 3D era."
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