Jensen Huang didn't respond immediately. His mind was racing, calculating the terrifyingly brilliant business logic behind this proposal.
"Traditional game consoles have closed and proprietary hardware architectures—you know this all too well," Takuya Nakayama continued, laying his cards on the table. "This means third-party developers have to spend an enormous amount of time relearning low-level assembly language just to port games to a console. That model worked in the 2D era, but in today's age of polygonal 3D, the development costs are simply too high. The more games we develop on the Jupiter, the more Sega feels this pain."
Takuya stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window of the VIP lounge, gazing out at the endless stream of traffic on the streets of Tokyo.
"What if we took a mature PC graphics architecture and ported it directly into a console?" He spun around abruptly, his gaze piercing as he stared at Jensen Huang. "NVIDIA provides the hardware architecture, and we combine it with our already-thriving open-source engine community. PC developers would only need to perform minimal optimization to port their games directly to Sega's new console! The underlying APIs would be universal, the architectures identical! We could drive both development and procurement costs to their absolute minimum!"
Boom!
Jensen Huang felt as if a bolt of lightning had just struck his mind.
This was a disruptive, even insane, proposal!
To shatter the long-standing hardware barriers between PCs and consoles, and to use a unified technical ecosystem to bind developers from both sides to the same war chariot!
If this vision truly came to fruition, Sega would completely dominate the future of gaming content, and NVIDIA would become the most critical cornerstone of this empire!
Jensen Huang shot to his feet, strode to the coffee table, and drained the cold cup of coffee in one gulp, forcing down the turbulent waves of emotion surging in his chest.
"Customizing a console chip requires a dedicated team to work with you on the joint debugging of the bus and VRAM," Jensen Huang said, setting the cup down and staring intently at Takuya Nakayama. "This will consume a massive amount of NVIDIA's R&D resources. Moreover, consoles have a lifespan of five to six years. Ensuring production capacity during that entire period is a critical issue."
"TSMC will guarantee the production capacity. Sega can step in and sign long-term contracts with you in advance," Takuya Nakayama said, walking back to the sofa with a confident tone. "As for the R&D resources, Sega will pay the full cost of the custom development. This money will not go through NVIDIA's existing books; it will be treated as a special R&D fund provided by Sega. You don't have to worry about it draining your cash flow."
The offer was too generous to refuse.
For a chip design company, securing an exclusive contract with a major console manufacturer meant a guaranteed, massive stream of revenue for years to come. It was a dream scenario that most semiconductor firms could only imagine.
But Jensen Huang was a pragmatist. He knew exactly how much leverage he had.
"Takuya, your proposal is... incredibly tempting. It even makes my blood boil with excitement." Jensen took a deep breath and straightened his suit jacket. "But right now, I can't give you a definite answer."
Takuya Nakayama didn't press him. He simply watched Jensen with a smile, waiting for him to continue.
"NVIDIA is betting its entire future on the RIVA128," Jensen said candidly, not hiding his company's precarious position. "Whether this chip can defeat 3dfx's Voodoo in the market and generate positive cash flow will determine if NVIDIA even survives to develop the next generation. I can't afford to divert even a fraction of my core team's focus at this stage."
"You want to wait for the market feedback on the RIVA128," Takuya said, cutting straight to the point. "Once you have that confidence, you'll come back to negotiate with me."
"Exactly," Jensen Huang nodded heavily. "Once the RIVA128 shipments in the second half of this year meet our expectations and the company's cash flow is completely healthy, the pre-research progress of the NV4 will naturally accelerate. At that time, we can sit down and have a proper discussion about the customized plan for Sega's new console. I guarantee that NVIDIA will bring its best to the table."
"Agreed. A rational judgment," Takuya Nakayama extended his hand, a satisfied smile appearing on his face. "Sega has enough patience to wait for you. I wish the RIVA128 a huge success—crush 3dfx into the ground."
"I'll take your good wishes," Jensen Huang also smiled.
The two men shook hands firmly again.
No written agreement was signed during this conversation, but both sides had already obtained the core chips they wanted.
After seeing Jensen Huang off, Takuya Nakayama stretched his arms wide and sat back down at his desk.
On the desk lay a financial report that Sunrise Animation had just sent over.
At the end of last year, After War Gundam X successfully concluded according to the compressed episode count.
No filler, no rushed ending.
By cutting out the long-winded and tedious slice-of-life scenes, the density of the mecha battle storyboards was pushed to the absolute limit.
Although the television station's premiere ratings could only be described as barely passing, the pre-sale data for videotapes and LaserDiscs had skyrocketed like a rocket.
It had landed with a perfect, smooth touchdown.
Takuya Nakayama closed the financial report with a satisfied smile.
Another intriguing thought crossed his mind.
Hideo Kojima.
Sega had previously approved a special fund, allowing this cinema-obsessed madman—stifled by the limitations of game hardware—to work under Sunrise's banner on an OVA called Policenauts.
By his reckoning, the team should have been assembled by now. Perhaps they'd even finished the storyboards for the first episode.
"Let's go see what that old guy's been up to," Takuya muttered. He grabbed his car keys and headed downstairs, humming a tune.
The drive from Ōta Ward to Suginami Ward was smooth.
Sunrise's headquarters remained as inconspicuous as ever, its exterior walls even showing a bit of wear and tear.
Takuya pushed open the main doors.
Whoosh! A wave of heat and noise from the animation department washed over him.
The light tables were packed. The rustle of paper mingled with fierce arguments, and someone was even shouting for ramen.
The deathly silence from when Gundam X had nearly been canceled was nowhere to be seen.
This is more like it! This is how a creative studio should feel!
Takuya walked down the hallway, heading deeper into the building. According to the original plan, Sunrise had set aside a separate studio just for Hideo Kojima.
The sign on the door read "Production Studio 7."
He pushed it open.
The room was empty.
Not only was it empty, but a thin layer of dust had settled on the desks. There wasn't even a decent fax machine.
Takuya Nakayama froze, his brow furrowing.
Where is everyone? Did they take the money and run?
No, that's impossible. Kojima isn't that kind of person.
He backed out of the room and grabbed a passing production assistant who was sprinting by with a stack of concept art.
"Where is Director Kojima?"
The assistant blinked, clearly not recognizing this major Sega financier. He pointed vaguely toward the large conference room at the end of the hallway.
"Mr. Kojima? Oh, he's over at Production Studio 2 helping them out."
Please Support me by becoming my Patreon member and get 30+ chapters.
[email protected]/Ajal69
change @ with a
Thank You to Those who joined my Patreon