The game Onmyōji possessed a distinctly traditional, antique charm, yet its art style had a distinctly next-generation feel—exquisite and beautiful. The original artist's handling of the graphics could only be described as bold and skillful.
Even on the Red and White Machine, with its limited color capabilities, they managed to create extraordinary effects tailored to the platform.
"Nene, have you played Onmyōji yet?"
"No, why?"
"It's amazing! I heard the graphics are out of this world."
"I've played it! The graphics are absolutely top-tier! How did they even pull it off?"
This was the assessment from employees of the Street Flirt project team at Bluevens Corporation.
"Yeah, compared to this, I feel like we just made a pile of shit."
"Shh... Don't let the President hear you."
"Or the lead designer."
"..."
Tatsuya Mizutani happened to walk by and overheard their conversation.
"If you have time to complain, you should be working harder to improve the quality of our own game."
In fact, on the very day Pokeni's Onmyōji was released, Mizutani had already bought the game.
It wasn't for any particular reason, just curiosity about the new game his former company had developed.
He didn't expect much, but when he inserted the cartridge and started playing Onmyoji, he was immediately stunned by its exquisite graphics.
The art style was so breathtakingly beautiful, its level of detail rivaling that of animated films. Before Onmyoji, Tatsuya Mizutani could never have imagined such visuals could be displayed on the Red and White Machine.
Just this rare level of graphical quality alone was enough to secure the game's place in gaming history.
However, the subsequent market reception left Mizutani baffled.
After a week on the market, Onmyoji had only sold a few hundred copies.
The first month of a game's release is crucial, much like with movies. The majority of box office revenue comes from the initial month after release, as those eager to see it go first. After that, the appeal diminishes, and spoilers might even emerge.
For games, the first month's sales typically account for about 50% of the total.
Given the current sales trends of Onmyoji, Tatsuya Mizutani doubted the game would even reach three thousand copies.
"Seems it's not much to write home about," he muttered, clicking his tongue. A faint, almost involuntary smile curled the corner of his lips.
"Huh?"
This was truly strange.
Based on Mizutani's assessment of the game's quality, such dismal performance shouldn't have been possible.
But he quickly understood why.
"As I suspected, my judgment was correct. How could an RPG and a galgame possibly merge? Players just can't stomach such slow-paced gameplay."
It was a disaster for the company that someone like Aoki Haruhi, who knew nothing about games, had been appointed President.
Aoki's original art skills were undeniable. In Mizutani's estimation, he could have crushed their current lead artist, Aoyama, by several tiers with Onmyoji's visuals.
But without understanding games, even the best visuals were just a waste.
"Ah, if only Aoki Haruhi were my art director," Mizutani muttered to himself, carrying the Onmyoji cartridge into the conference room.
It was time to show the Blue-wings' art team a thing or two.
The current situation for Onmyoji players was this:
Though the game's ending was truly heartbreaking, it was undoubtedly a masterpiece.
Yet despite its critical acclaim, Onmyoji's sales performance remained disappointing, falling far short of Aoki Haruhi's expectations.
"How could this be?"
To be honest, even now, neither Aoki Haruhi nor Mizutani truly understood:
Why is my work so brilliant—first-rate graphics, a compelling story, top-tier character design, and top-tier combat... yet the game isn't selling well?
Is it true that RPGs shouldn't be combined with galgames?
Aoki Haruhi crossed his arms, his brow furrowed in self-doubt.
But that can't be right. Many future games also feature rich narratives. Could it be that we were too brutal with the content?
90s players shouldn't be so fragile.
He glanced at Ishino Mika beside him, her face mirroring his own anguish.
After all, she had written the game's script.
Including Onmyoji, Ishino Mika had now been involved in two failed games.
Or rather, since she joined the company after graduating from college, she hadn't worked on a single successful project.
This is crushing, isn't it?
"Let's go," Aoki Haruhi said.
"Huh? Where are we going?" Ishino Mika looked bewildered.
"To see for ourselves," Aoki Haruhi replied, picking up his jacket. "Without a thorough investigation, you'll never figure out what's wrong."
After carefully visiting several game stores and interviewing some Onmyoji players, Aoki Haruhi finally pinpointed the root of the problem:
The game itself was flawless.
Moreover, player reviews were overwhelmingly positive.
Apart from their shared dissatisfaction with the ending—which left them with a look as if they wanted to tear the Pokeni staff to shreds—players unanimously agreed that Onmyoji was a masterpiece worthy of being enshrined in the Hall of Fame.
Hmm...
The main issue, it turned out, lay in how the game was displayed in stores.
After visiting several large game retailers, particularly the Golden Thumb chain, Aoki Haruhi noticed a pattern: these stores habitually placed Onmyoji game cartridges in obscure locations.
For example, they were often tucked away on the bottom or top shelves, or in the farthest corners—places that were difficult to spot.
Some stores didn't even bother displaying Onmyoji posters.
Naturally, this resulted in sluggish sales.
Only through DUN's own channels, such as audio-visual stores, was Onmyoji prominently displayed.
Seeing this, Aoki Haruhi grew furious and immediately sought out Tsuda Nao.
At first, Tsuda Nao was a bit bewildered. But after hearing Aoki Haruhi's explanation, she finally understood—
Those game retailers were truly despicable.
They claimed to be helping, but in reality, they were burying Onmyoji.
Moreover, with Tsuda Nao's own promise—"If it doesn't sell, DUN will take it back"—they became even more brazen.
Those old foxes...
"I understand. I'll call them right now."
Tsuda Nao narrowed her eyes, a hint of anger creeping onto her face.
"Hello, this is Tsuda. President Hattori, why are your chain stores hiding Onmyoji in the corner? How can it possibly sell well like this?"
Hattori chuckled lightly on the other end, as if he'd been expecting Tsuda's call. "If a game performs well, it gets prime placement. If it performs poorly, it gets relegated to the corner to gather dust. Isn't that only natural? We operate according to professional standards.
Moreover, a game's placement depends on the company and the quality of the work itself.
Would we put Nintindo's Super Mario in the corner?"
Aoki Haruhi, overhearing this, was furious.
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