September 1st.
Today, Shibuya's central avenue was so packed that calling it a sea of people would hardly be an exaggeration.
Nintendo had rented out a section of the street to host a public exhibition match—showcasing the capabilities of the Famicom, along with several arcade titles.
Kobayashi Tetsu pressed down the brim of his baseball cap and stepped onto the stage.
Yes—he had defected.
Nintendo had given him a Famicom for free, and so Kobayashi Tetsu "defected."
Today, he had been invited to participate in Nintendo's exhibition match, demonstrating none other than the plumber Mario.
Off to the side of the stage, reporters lugged cameras, filming every angle.
Kobayashi glanced toward the other end—Chiyama Hayato was watching him with barely contained excitement.
If "a sea of people" sounded like an exaggeration, it wasn't. Compared to Sega's previous puzzle event, the crowd here was far larger.
"Ahem, all right…"
Chiyama tapped the mic. A sharp screech blasted through the plaza, making the whole crowd wince.
"I am Chiyama Hayato, owner of the Shibuya Nintendo Specialty Store. I'm honored that all of you have gathered on this glorious day to watch this game showcase! Aside from us, fourteen other specialty stores across Tokyo are holding exhibitions today. But we are different! We have been lucky enough to invite a mysterious guest—one who recently took the championship at our rival company's puzzle tournament! Everyone, please welcome… Blue-Eyes White Dragon-kun!"
With a popsicle still in his mouth, Kobayashi walked onstage as murmurs rose from below.
His ears twitched. He could hear the whispers clearly.
"It's really him!"
"That's the God of Puzzle Blocks!"
"Blue-Eyes White Dragon!"
Kobayashi took a long breath.
Good thing he was wearing a baseball cap. Good thing no one knew he was actually Kobayashi Tetsu.
He looked toward the equipment arranged at center stage: a large television, a Famicom, and a matching cartridge—an engineering sample. A green dev-cart with no label, clearly something freshly prepared.
He tightened his cap and bowed deeply to the crowd.
"Today, we're showcasing a very special title."
"A game scheduled for release on the FC this year—Mario Bros.!"
With a swish, Chiyama pulled open the curtain to reveal the dev-cartridge on a tray.
Kobayashi lifted his chin slightly.
Just as he suspected—this event was never meant as a competition at all. It was a marketing stunt to promote a new game.
Kobayashi stepped up to the Famicom.
For the record, the genuine FC controller didn't have turbo buttons—only A and B. The ○×□△ layout was something Sony invented.
—And Sony wasn't even in the game industry yet.
Kobayashi held the light, familiar controller and looked at the screen. He casually set his popsicle—wrapper and all—beside the console.
When the cartridge clicked into place and the TV lit up, the crowd collectively held its breath.
A new game—finally.
Kobayashi's lips curved into a faint, mischievous arc.
Mario the plumber, just as expected.
And thinking about what he was about to do made it hard for him not to laugh.
He looked at Chiyama.
"Chiyama-kun, may I begin?"
"Of course!" Chiyama beamed, raising the mic. "Everyone, a warm round of applause as Blue-Eyes White Dragon-kun brings us an exciting demonstration!"
Kobayashi held the controller solemnly, as if gripping the rifle of a revolutionary.
And still, he could barely keep from laughing at what he had planned.
Calm down. I'm Nintendo's invited pro today, remember.
He composed his expression and began playing with steady control.
Beside him, Chiyama narrated energetically:
"This is Nintendo's upcoming title releasing September 5th—Mario Bros.!
"Ported from the arcade version released this July!
"Re-optimized for the FC hardware!
"Supports two-player mode!
"And features more responsive controls!"
As Chiyama spoke and Kobayashi played, the audience leaned forward, eyes fixed on the giant screen.
Kobayashi breezed through the first two stages with fluid ease.
Then—
Kobayashi crouch-jumped.
Flash.
Mario clipped straight into the stage terrain, lodged into the pipe's spawn point, endlessly crouching inside the drain.
The repeated squat-animation made Mario look… indecent. Like a monkey performing a strange dance.
Chiyama froze on the spot.
Oh no. Café's on fire. What is THIS!?
We didn't hear about this kind of bug during testing!
Kobayashi wiggled left and right as if trying to "recover," but the monsters emerging from the pipe touched Mario and effortlessly killed him.
He didn't react. His ears twitched again.
A collective hiss rose from the crowd.
They thought it was just an accident.
Kobayashi restarted.
But the next moment—the entire screen erupted into chaos.
Nearly every tile was overlapped with chopped-up halves of Mario sprites—not real characters, but scrambled sprite memory. The image flickered wildly before a piercing electronic screech blasted through the speakers.
Zzzzz!! BANG!!
Now this was serious.
Kobayashi set down the controller and stood.
"Chiyama-kun… what's happening?"
Chiyama pressed his lips tightly.
He had no idea.
It was clearly some kind of graphics malfunction, but no tester had reported anything like this.
Down below, the once-excited crowd was cooling rapidly.
A game that starts with bugs this huge?
How is anyone supposed to play that?
Expression unchanged, Kobayashi turned to the arcade cabinet.
The arcade version ran perfectly. He played skillfully, impressing many viewers.
But—
The most important point remained:
The FC port had bugs. Big ones.
Who would want to buy a buggy game?
No one knew what had caused the disaster.
Except Kobayashi Tetsu.
The truth was this:
The early FC once faced a major crisis.
The FC used Ricoh's RP2A03 processor. Ricoh had previously handled manufacturing for Commodore in Japan, and they had obtained some C64 technology. After removing part of the microcode to avoid IP issues, Ricoh created the 2A03 in 1981. Nintendo adopted it for the Famicom in 1983.
Because some microcode had been stripped, the chip seemed to function normally—but a serious flaw lurked beneath. Some internal circuits couldn't be fully utilized. When temperatures dropped, the chip could short internally, causing catastrophic VRAM explosions—graphic corruption.
The issue was first discovered in Sapporo, up in cold Hokkaido.
When winter came in 1983, a Sapporo player encountered the problem.
Nintendo had to urgently recall all FC units from the market, obtain proper microcode authorization from Commodore, and manufacture a corrected batch of 2A03 chips. Only then was the temperature-triggered short-circuit flaw fixed.
Sega reacted quickly during that period, and for a few months, SG sales overtook the FC.
Unfortunately, Sega lacked strong game titles, and the SG's hardware was mediocre. They couldn't seize the opportunity.
Nintendo's engineers weren't fools. If they investigated carefully, they'd eventually find the real cause.
So Kobayashi simply nudged them in the wrong direction.
He used a classic Mario pipe-clip bug—a known speedrunning technique.
By making it appear as a software glitch, he redirected attention away from the hardware flaw, buying Sega time and making Nintendo's engineers search in the wrong place.
No doubt, Nintendo's tech department was about to have a very busy week.
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