The board meeting had just adjourned, and Director Hattori held the gilded authorization document, his face flushed with uncontainable excitement.
He hurried to Takuya's side, slapped him firmly on the shoulder, his voice brimming with the ambition of someone about to make a big splash.
"Executive Director Nakayama, I'm heading to Sunrise Animation right now to discuss the specific acquisition price and details!"
His voice was filled with the spirited ambition of someone about to make a grand display, rushing to the next peak of his career.
Takuya smiled and nodded, watching Director Hattori almost sprint towards the elevator.
As soon as he returned to his office, there was a gentle knock on the door, and his assistant entered, carrying a stack of items, his face also beaming with joy.
The assistant carefully held two brand-new MD cartridges and a large box with the Sony logo.
"Executive Director Nakayama, all development work for the home version of DDR and phantasy star has been completed, and the production line can begin mass production at any time!"
The first wave of games for the MD after its release had now concluded their development phase.
In Takuya's office, he personally connected the large LD player peripheral to the MD console, then unrolled the dance mat, specially made for the home version, onto the clean floor, and pressed the power button.
The familiar melody of "Dancing Hero" began, and the office was instantly filled with the dynamic beat.
Takuya took off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, stepped onto the dance mat, and casually tapped out a few beats.
Aside from not being able to replicate the ear-piercing volume and cool lighting effects of the arcade, the entire game experience almost perfectly replicated the soul of the arcade version.
He nodded with satisfaction.
He picked up the phone and connected to the Production Department.
"For the home version of DDR, initiate production of the 'Champion, Runner-up, and Third Place Limited Edition Commemorative Models.'"
"Release it on schedule, as originally planned."
"For subsequent regular editions, strictly adhere to a small-batch distribution combined with a pre-order model."
After hanging up the phone, he turned his attention to another cartridge on the desk—phantasy star.
He unplugged the DDR LD player and inserted the other cartridge into the MD console.
The screen lit up, and against a deep cosmic background, the artistic font "phantasy star" appeared, full of sci-fi flair.
The opening animation was stunning.
Sega's powerful hardware capabilities were fully showcased at this moment.
Spaceships cut through the star sea, and alien landscapes were magnificent and grand.
Takuya's face held a hint of anticipation as he gripped the controller.
The combat system was smooth, and the numerical balance was quite robust.
However, as the story progressed, and one dialogue box after another popped up, as the characters began to interact to advance the plot, the anticipation on Takuya's face slowly turned into a helpless smile.
He seemed to see Sega's excellent engineers working tirelessly in front of their computers for an algorithm, an effect—they were the best craftsmen, but not the best poets.
The progression of the story and the dialogue of the characters in the game still carried an undeniable stiffness.
The emotional transitions of the characters lacked buildup, the dialogue was so direct that it had no charm, not to mention the dramatic plot twists that could make players empathize or even relish them.
This was a technically impeccable and excellent work.
But for RPG players whose appetites had been spoiled by final fantasy, merely being excellent was almost equivalent to being mediocre.
Takuya's fingers slowed on the controller; he didn't continue playing.
Forcibly praising a game's story would only lead to stronger resentment from players after they experienced it.
He picked up the internal phone and connected to the Marketing Department.
"Immediately adjust the promotional strategy for phantasy star."
The voice of the Marketing Department head came through, respectful but with a hint of confusion.
Takuya's instructions were clear and decisive.
"Abandon all promotional copy related to the story and world-building."
"From now on, focus all promotional resources on one point."
"'The industry's first major RPG with a female protagonist.'"
"Use the boldest, most avant-garde labels to attract everyone's attention."
After hanging up the phone, he immediately called the head of the production line.
"For the first batch of phantasy star, strictly control the stock to within seventy percent of the lowest estimated sales."
"I want to create an atmosphere of 'limited stock' in the market."
He explained into the phone.
"This not only protects us from the risk of inventory backlog but also maximizes the product's market value when word-of-mouth cannot go viral."
Time fast-forwarded to June.
During Tokyo's rainy season, the humid air seemed to shroud the city in a layer of moisture.
Two distinctly different sales reports were neatly placed on Takuya Nakayama's desk.
The results fully confirmed his initial predictions.
The expensive limited edition of DDR sold out immediately upon release in North America, the UK, and Spain.
It quickly became the most popular status symbol for wealthy players when hosting home parties, with its social utility generating even more buzz than the game itself.
Subsequent pre-orders for the regular edition, however, flowed in like a steady trickle, consistent but not overwhelming.
The "small batch + pre-order" strategy perfectly avoided any risk of hardware inventory accumulation.
The other report belonged to phantasy star.
The market feedback curve resembled a steep peak.
Thanks to the impactful "first female protagonist" headline and the excellent technical performance delivered by Sega's hardware, the game achieved quite good sales in its first week of release.
However, the excitement faded just as quickly.
After one week, sales plummeted, and its staying power was severely lacking.
Player feedback was remarkably consistent: "The system is great, and the combat is good, but the story feels completely flat."
It ultimately failed to generate sustained buzz.
Takuya leaned back in his chair, his fingers gently tapping the desk.
It seemed that there were no issues with the release, and the risks were controlled.
But this was merely treating the symptoms, not the root cause.
He gently pushed aside the preliminary design draft for the my neighbor totoro game, which had just begun to take shape.
A more important and fundamental problem now lay before him.
He had to inject the "soul of storytelling" into Sega's development team.
The necessity and urgency of "Children of the Star Ring," which had just been established at the board meeting, were infinitely magnified at this moment.
phantasy star cannot yet be considered Sega's flagship RPG, as it wasn't until phantasy star 4: The End of the Millennium in 1993 that it truly became Sega's signature RPG.
How could he find a flagship RPG for Sega's internal development team and, incidentally, guide this group of'steel straight men'?
Takuya fell into deep thought.