"If this is all Japanese developers have to offer, I'd rather wait in line at a hot dog stand." The Electronic Gaming Monthly writer tossed his pen onto the table.
The screen flickered back to life.
Namco.
The company's logo appeared in the center of the large screen.
An executive from Namco America, dressed in a dark suit, walked onto the stage. He skipped the long-winded speech, offering only a brief greeting before gesturing for the director to cut to the gameplay.
A stirring orchestral score swelled.
On-screen, two 3D-modeled warriors faced off on a stone arena. One, wielding a long katana, stepped forward, his blade carving a crescent arc through the air. The other, a female warrior, raised a round shield to block. The sound of metal clashing pierced the venue's sound system, sparks flying.
Soulcalibur.
The game had just launched in April on Namco's own System 11 arcade board.
This demonstration announced the arrival of the console version.
"3D Weapon Fighting," a reviewer in the front row scribbled rapidly. "Frame rate is stable. Polygon count is an improvement over Tekken 2."
On the demo screen, a female warrior sidestepped a heavy overhead strike, then spun around and swung her sword, driving her opponent to the edge of the ring.
A single shield bash sent the opponent flying off the platform.
Ring Out.
"The physics and hit feedback are incredibly solid."
"All that technical accumulation over the last couple of years hasn't gone to waste," another hardcore media veteran analyzed. "The System 11 arcade board's hardware is highly compatible with the PlayStation. This synergy minimizes the loss in quality when porting from arcade to console. It doesn't have that cheap, outsourced feel like Konami's ports; Namco's technical department has the real skills."
The atmosphere in the press section warmed up. The Western market had always had a taste for this kind of hardcore fighting game.
The screen cut.
The roar of an engine drowned out the clashing of swords.
A red-and-white sports car sped down a narrow mountain road.
Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the car's body with light and shadow.
The car entered the turn. Instead of slowing down, it swung hard into the corner, its rear end sliding out. Tires screeched against the asphalt, spewing white smoke.
Ridge Racer 3.
Launching on PlayStation by the end of the year.
"The art style has changed," a veteran racing game fan noted, pointing at the screen. "They've ditched the high-saturation, bright tones of the first two games for a more realistic, darker, industrial look."
"The UI's been redesigned too," a fellow attendee added. "They've added a tachometer and gear indicator. They're clearly pushing for more realism. The elevation changes on the track are much more dramatic than in the previous games. Look at that downhill turn just now—you can actually see the suspension compressing. Achieving that level of detail on a 32-bit system is impressive."
The back-to-back showcase of two major 3D titles gave Namco's presentation a strong start.
An executive stood offstage, nodding with satisfaction as he gauged the media's reaction.
He then stepped back to the center of the stage.
"We aren't just pushing the boundaries of 3D technology; we haven't forgotten the classics that shaped gaming history."
The image on the giant screen changed again.
This time, there were no dazzling polygons, no realistic physics engines. Against a black background, a yellow, pie-shaped character with a missing slice was frantically devouring dots in a maze. Several colorful ghosts chased close behind.
Pac-Man.
Then came Galaxian, Balloon Fight, Galaga, and Tom and Jerry.
A series of pixelated games from the 8-bit era flashed by. Finally, two titles assembled themselves on the screen: Namco Museum and Namco Gallery.
The list of platforms was astonishingly long: Jupiter, PlayStation, GamePocket, Game Boy.
A brief silence fell over the venue.
Then, a wave of low laughter and murmurs rippled through the media section.
"Are they kidding?" an editor from Computer Gaming World rubbed his eyes. "They're just repackaging arcade code from a decade ago, slapping a new name on it, and trying to sell it?"
"And they even split it into two versions: 'Museum' and 'Gallery'!" A fellow journalist beside him rolled his eyes. "What's the plan? Chop Pac-Man in half? Put the top half in the Museum and the bottom half in the Gallery?"
"Total platform domination," another reporter quipped. "They're not even letting handhelds off the hook. 'Preserving the historical legacy of electronic games'? That PR bullshit would only fool ghosts. Namco's just trying to dress up old leftovers in a fancy new way."
On stage, the executive maintained his professional smile, quickly read out the release date, and abruptly ended the presentation.
The reporters packed their things and left.
In the hallway, several veteran media professionals stood with coffee in hand, exchanging opinions on the conference.
"Is Namco insane? Bringing out Pac-Man at a showcase meant for flexing their muscles?"
"Financial pressure," a senior critic familiar with the Japanese industry said, stuffing his notebook into his bag. "Those suits are smarter than anyone. Developing a new Ridge Racer costs tens of millions of dollars. Packaging a Namco Museum just takes a few interns half a month on a keyboard. It's pure profit."
"Did you see Namco's last quarterly report?" another person interjected.
"I did. The numbers aren't bad; they're still making money."
"But the structure is pathetic compared to the other arcade giants," the commentator sneered. "How much did Capcom clear last month just from selling Street Fighter licensed T-shirts and manga? SNK's Samurai Shodown figures alone generate enough revenue to support an entire development team. What does Namco have? Pac-Man mugs? Their income streams are too narrow, leaving them dangerously vulnerable to risk."
It was worth noting that Namco's current financial situation was at a precarious turning point.
A glance at this year's financial report showed that the bottom line was still profitable.
But beneath the glossy total revenue, the flaws in their revenue structure were laid bare.
Compared to arcade giants like Sega, Capcom, and SNK, Namco's merchandise monetization channels were pitifully sparse.
Capcom had built a massive pan-entertainment empire on the back of its fighting games. Manga, anime, figures, and even Hollywood live-action movies—IP licensing fees poured steadily into its Osaka headquarters. SNK, by cultivating idol-like characters, had a firm grip on the wallets of its countless fanatical followers, generating staggering sales of character merchandise.
In this regard, Namco was extremely passive.
Pac-Man was an undisputed classic, but it was difficult to continue mining high-value-added merchandise from it in this era. Tekken and Ridge Racer had popularity, but they always fell short in character development and IP extension.
The more fatal problem lay in the research and development costs of arcade hardware.
The hardware arms race in the arcade market had reached a dangerous critical point. To maintain its lead in the 3D era, Namco's investment in high-end arcade system boards like System 11 and System 22 was second only to the deep-pocketed Sega.
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