The café's doorbell jingled lightly as Ryōji Itō's figure vanished beyond the glass window.
Takuya Nakayama stood up, finishing the last sip of his now-cool Blue Mountain coffee, the cup's bottom stained like dried ink.
He had no intention of lingering. Waiting was never his style, especially in this era full of variables.
He wasn't about to passively rely on vague news from his senior.
After all, his mind was loaded with decades' worth of gaming treasures from the future.
The apartnt in guro-ku was small, even a bit cluttered, starkly contrasting the orderly solemnity of the Nakayama family mansion.
A few geology and programming books were haphazardly stacked in a corner, exuding the distinct sll of old paper.
This was the apartnt the original owner had rented during university. He hadn't given it up after graduation, as its location was conveniently close to both Sega's headquarters and the Nakayama mansion, allowing him so personal space.
He deftly lifted the dust cover off a beige computer, pressed the power button, and the screen humd faintly as it ward up.
Green characters flickered to life on a black background, signaling the boot-up of the MS-DOS system.
This machine's performance was decent for 1985 but felt like an antique compared to the equipnt he'd used in his previous life.
Still, it was enough.
His fingers danced across the keyboard, the crisp tapping sounds rhythmic in the quiet room.
Assembly language, a tedious low-level language for many, ca alive under his fingertips.
The original owner's academic prowess from Tokyo Institute of Technology awakened like mories etched in DNA, intertwining with his knowledge of Tetris's chanics from his previous life.
On the screen, lines of code scrolled rapidly, building the core logic for falling, rotating, and clearing blocks.
Tetris, the Russian puzzle ga.
This simple yet endlessly captivating ga was his chosen first target.
He needed a compelling "work" to prove himself to his father and Sega, not just empty theories.
Asking Ryōji Itō to seek out the Soviet version was rely a pretext to justify to Sega that the ga had an owner and would require purchasing its rights.
re replication wasn't enough. A subtle smirk curved Takuya Nakayama's lips.
He needed a true "surprise"—sothing to impress his stoic father and make Sega's seasoned veterans take notice.
In his mind, a mode that would later sweep the world began to take shape.
What if… clearing blocks on one side created obstacles for an opponent?
He paused his typing, fingers hovering, eyes gleaming with excitent.
Yes—"garbage lines"!
Clearing two lines would raise a row of tricky gray obstacle blocks at the opponent's base.
This instantly transford a solo puzzle ga into a dynamic, competitive arena!
No one in this era had played like this before. He dove into developing the new feature.
Days later, an MS-DOS version of Tetris with both classic and innovative versus modes took shape.
He tested it repeatedly, clearing blocks, generating "garbage" for a virtual opponent, tweaking difficulty and balance to ensure flawless logic and smooth performance.
While he was debugging, the doorbell rang.
It was his sister, Ayako Nakayama, carrying a delicate gift box, her face adorned with a gentle smile.
As she slipped off her shoes, Ayako said, "When I returned from Arica and visited Father, he ntioned you're joining Sega to develop gas but haven't reported to work yet. I knew you'd be holed up here."
Ayako entered, placing the gift box on the table, her curious gaze falling on the monochromatic falling blocks on the screen.
"What's this? A computer ga?"
"Yeah, a… little project," Takuya Nakayama said, wiping sweat from his brow, a spark of anticipation in his heart. "I coded it myself. It's called Tetris. Want to try it, Sis? I added a two-player versus mode."
"?" Ayako hesitated, not usually into "boy stuff."
"Co on, it's simple," Takuya urged warmly.
At first, Ayako sat down indulgently, clumsily maneuvering the keyboard under Takuya's guidance.
Blocks moved awkwardly, rotated, and fell, occasionally clearing a line or two.
Gradually, she beca engrossed. Though her refined deanor kept her from shouting, her focus and excitent with each cleared line were palpable.
After a few rounds, especially when Takuya switched to versus mode and bombarded her with "garbage lines," leaving her screen cluttered and ending the ga, her expression shifted.
It was a mix of frustration, determination, and intense curiosity, so much so that she forgot to ntion the gift she'd brought.
"One more round!" Ayako quickly hit the restart key, her usually composed cheeks slightly flushed, her tone eager. "This ti, I won't lose!"
Seeing his sister fully imrsed, Takuya Nakayama felt confident.
This ga's allure truly transcended gender and era.
Ayako's reaction confird the potential of Tetris and its versus mode.
But Takuya Nakayama didn't let this early success go to his head.
After dinner, he sent his sister off and leaned back in his chair, gazing at the dark night sky outside, the city's neon lights reflecting on his face.
Nintendo's Famicom lood like a giant shadow over the ho console market.
Super Mario Bros.'s iconic chanics were like a textbook standard for side-scrolling gas in this era, outshining all competitors.
Sega's SG-1000 and Mark III, despite their efforts, struggled to keep up in this market.
Releasing Tetris or any new ga on ho consoles now would be like throwing precious ammunition into a bottomless pit.
The investnt would be huge, the risks high, and the returns uncertain—a poor effort-to-reward ratio.
But… what about the arcade market?
Takuya Nakayama's eyes sharpened.
That was another battlefield. Though fiercely competitive, Sega wasn't powerless there.
Sega had deep expertise in arcades, with strong technical capabilities and distribution channels.
Ga centers across the country were the perfect testing ground and promotional platform.
A successful arcade ga could generate imdiate cash flow, boost brand reputation, refine core gaplay, build player loyalty, and validate an IP's value.
Yes, the focus should be on arcades first.
A stunning, coin-devouring arcade ga—or several—could reignite players' enthusiasm for Sega.
By next year, when the 16-bit ga Drive, Sega's hope for a coback, launched, these market-tested, fan-favorite arcade hits would serve as the most solid, reliable first-party launch titles!
This was the safest and most effective strategy. Pair it with a few new gas tailored to the 16-bit console's capabilities, and it could establish a strong install base.
The strategic direction was set. So, what type of arcade ga should he develop next?
With Tetris as a stellar puzzle ga candidate, perhaps… sothing more suited to the arcade vibe, more "hardcore," showcasing Sega's technical prowess?
His fingers tapped rhythmically on the cool desktop, his mind racing like a high-speed CPU, diving into the vast ocean of gaming mories, searching for titles that had once dominated arcade halls.
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