Monday at Sega Headquarters was filled with an unusual atmosphere.
In the corridor leading to the executive meeting room, footsteps were more frequent and hurried than usual. The sound of leather shoes tapping on the floor echoed in the quiet hallway.
The upcoming "Team Leader Game Development Symposium" was clearly exceeding the usual specifications. The meeting room itself was not large, and as various development team leaders and several high-level executives, rarely seen in suits, took their seats, the space appeared much more crowded than usual. Some people had to turn sideways slightly to let latecomers pass.
A faint scent of tobacco hung in the air, mixed with a hint of paper and the breeze from old air conditioners, along with a subtle, underlying tension.
Most of the team leaders looked as usual, flipping through the documents in their hands, preparing for their routine reports. But their peripheral vision always unconsciously darted towards the corner seat.
Takuya Nakayama sat there. The young man wore a sharp suit, sat upright, and showed little emotion on his face, as if he were just a student observing.
The several high-level executives had varying expressions. Some had a clear look of scrutiny, their gaze lingering on Takuya for a moment before moving away, whispering something to the person beside them, a barely perceptible curve at the corner of their lips.
Others were purely curious, their eyes filled with inquiry, wanting to see what new tricks the president's youngest son would pull after tetris caused such a stir.
Even more, several older, arrogant-looking managers leaned back in their chairs, arms crossed, chin slightly raised, looking aloof as if they were only there out of respect for the president, waiting for a show. Their eye contact seemed to say, "See? I told you, it's just a child's nonsense."
Whispers had long spread throughout the company. The popularity of tetris meant that the name "Takuya Nakayama" no longer merely represented a status label.
However, introducing a successful game and leading a completely new, large-scale original project requiring significant resources were, in everyone's eyes, two entirely different matters. This required not just vision, but also solid development concepts and execution.
The voices of doubt had never truly disappeared; they were merely temporarily suppressed by tetris's sales figures.
Hayao Nakayama sat at the head of the table, his face as calm as still water, his fingers unconsciously tapping lightly on the smooth tabletop, making a faint clicking sound. His gaze calmly swept across the room, not lingering on anyone, including his own son. He seemed to be just an ordinary meeting host, and the one about to take the stage was just an ordinary new developer.
Takuya felt the complex gazes from all directions: anticipation, suspicion, curiosity, and undisguised disdain and schadenfreude, waiting to see him make a fool of himself. His hands, resting on his knees, clenched slightly, then relaxed. His heart was not entirely calm, but more than that, there was a certainty of finally revealing his carefully prepared trump card.
The meeting began as scheduled.
Suzuki Yu was the first to report.
He stood up spiritedly, walked to the front, and loudly announced that the development of Hang-On was fully completed and entering the final testing and mass production preparation phase. The rising star producer within Sega, his voice filled with absolute confidence in his work, even a hint of provocation.
A polite and enthusiastic round of applause erupted in the meeting room. Many executives nodded with satisfaction; this was tangible performance.
Subsequently, the team leaders of several other development groups also took the stage in turn, briefly reporting on the progress of their respective projects. Most were routine content such as sequel development and technical pre-research, and their reporting tones were straightforward and uneventful. Clearly, most of the attendees' attention was not entirely focused on these formalities.
The executives occasionally conversed in low voices, exchanging meaningful glances, their eyes occasionally sweeping over Takuya in the corner.
The atmosphere during the mundane reports, like a pot of water about to boil, brewed a subtle tension.
Finally, it was time for the new project discussion segment.
The host cleared his throat and announced, "Next, Takuya-kun Nakayama will introduce his new game proposal."
This time, there were no other competing proposals, only Takuya's development plan.
Everyone's eyes, almost at the same time, swiftly focused on that corner of the meeting room.
Takuya stood up, adjusted a non-existent crease in his collar, moving unhurriedly, then calmly walked to the projection screen in the center of the meeting room.
He first bowed slightly, greeting everyone present. "Thank you, seniors and executives, for taking the time out of your busy schedules to be here." His voice was clear and humble, perfectly befitting a newcomer addressing company veterans.
But the next second, he raised his head, his gaze calmly sweeping across the room, his eyes instantly becoming sharp and powerful, as if he had transformed into a different person.
"Today, I want to introduce a brand new game genre, and a new project conceived based on this genre."
He pressed the controller in his hand, and the projection screen lit up with a "pop," a large title appearing on screen—
Project Proposal: K
Below it was a slightly smaller line of text: **Fighting Game Concept Proposal**
"Fighting game?"
"Fighting Game? What is this?"
A suppressed murmur immediately rose from below the stage, and many faces showed obvious confusion and incomprehension. Even experienced game developers found this term quite unfamiliar. What word game was this kid playing now?
"A so-called fighting game," Takuya's voice carried an undeniable confidence as he began to elaborate, "at its core, simulates direct confrontation between two people, or rather, two characters controlled by players, using bare hands or cold weapons."
"It emphasizes the player's precise control over the character, lightning-fast, millisecond reactions, and accurate grasp of offensive and defensive timing."
"Our goal is to provide a direct, intense, and highly skillful confrontational experience. We want players to feel the thrilling excitement of fist-to-flesh combat within the confines of the screen, and the unparalleled sense of achievement after defeating a powerful opponent."
His description was concise and powerful, every word impactful, outlining a game concept brimming with the allure of primal confrontation.
Some of the team leaders, who were initially just going through the motions, began to lean forward slightly, their eyes showing a glimmer of thought. This concept sounded somewhat interesting.
To make this somewhat abstract concept more concrete, Takuya motioned for his assistant to play the prepared video footage.
The lights in the meeting room dimmed, and a carefully edited video appeared on the projection screen.
The footage was not a game, but from a kung fu movie that had caused a sensation in Hong Kong a few years ago—Drunken Master.