At Silicon Valley Online's press conference, Frank Marshall was unquestionably the star.
Standing beneath the spotlights in a perfectly tailored suit, he announced ICQ's next phase in the polished, persuasive tone unique to Wall Street elites: the establishnt of European servers in London, alongside the simultaneous launch of multilingual versions.
"ICQ is not just a product," Frank said to the caras, spreading his arms wide.
"It is a bridge—a bridge connecting human emotions in a new era. Our first stop: London."
The flashes below erupted in a sea of light.
Representatives from Sequoia Capital and KPCB were also given ti to speak. They spared no praise, hailing "Silicon Valley Online" as "a great company that will change the future of human communication," and framing the one-hundred-million-dollar valuation as "a humble investnt in the future."
Yet Tom Kalinske, president of Sega of Arica and the true force behind it all, was conspicuously absent from the spectacle.
At that very mont, he was deep inside a warehouse at Sega of Arica's Redwood City headquarters.
A fresh shipnt of brand-new System 32 boards and ga cartridges labeled tal Slug had just been hauled straight in from the port.
"Quick! Set one up! Let see what this thing can really do!"
Tom urged the engineers on, tearing open a crate himself in his impatience.
Before long, the first tal Slug arcade cabinet was fully assembled and powered on.
The crisp electronic jingle—tal Slug—rang out, instantly drawing a crowd of engineers around the machine.
On the screen, a chibi-style cartoon soldier lugging a rifle ran forward with fluid, lively motion.
When the attack button was pressed, a stream of pistol bullets sprayed out, striking enemy soldiers ahead. They let out exaggerated death cries and collapsed in movents that were both absurd and strangely convincing.
"My God—look at this image quality! The detail!" exclaid an engineer with an art background. "Even the enemies don't die the sa way!"
"And there's zero slowdown!" shouted the programr in charge, eyes glued to the screen, burning with excitent. "We just blew up three tanks and a watchtower at the sa ti! This board is a monster!"
When one character picked up a flashing cube marked with the letter "H," a crisp chambering sound rang out, followed by the clearly spoken line "Heavy machine gun!" from the speakers, instantly cranking the atmosphere up another notch.
The player character hopped into a round little tank. The tank could jump too—and even crouch to dodge bullets.
Boom!
A single shell reduced a wooden bridge ahead to splinters, debris flying everywhere.
The ways characters could die were just as varied.
So fell into rivers, only to be swallowed by giant piranhas that spat out a string of bones.
So were hit by incendiary bombs, turning into flaming figures running around screaming.
Others were ambushed from behind, their throats slit, collapsing while clutching gushing neck wounds.
For the first tal Slug, Takuya Nakayama had no intention of cramming in every elent that would later make the series famous—nurous vehicles, diverse cultural settings, or the absurd, satirical backstory of warlords manipulated by aliens.
Instead, he had the team include only two vehicles. One was the iconic small tank; the other was a compact subrsible. To showcase this subrsible, the developers designed an entire stage where action took place on the surface, underwater, and above water simultaneously, filled with varied enemies, all to fully exploit its combat potential.
As for the story, Takuya had the team focus solely on a single warlord entrenched in a tropical jungle. More cunning than in his previous life, however, he seeded the entire ga and its environnts with nurous hints foreshadowing later entries. And the final stage and final boss were set amid icy wastelands—another sly jab at the Soviet Union.
Watching the ultra-smooth, explosively fun action on screen, Tom Kalinske let out a sharp whistle.
He could already hear it—the crisp clatter of countless coins dropping into arcade machines across Arica.
A new era of arcade gaming had arrived.
Two days later, arcade owners and distributors from all over the United States converged on Redwood City like sharks drawn by the scent of blood.
Tom Kalinske, ever the fox, held the ordering conference directly inside the warehouse stacked full of inventory, using the most direct possible way to stimulate the rchants' nerves.
The first batch of tal Slug machines delivered to the U.S. numbered exactly two thousand units.
The demo area was packed, praise echoing nonstop.
"This ga's going to be huge! The visuals are insane!"
"The pacing is amazing—just nonstop explosions from start to finish. Perfect stress relief!"
But when Tom's assistant brought out the order forms and announced the price, a small stir rippled through the crowd.
Quite a few owners, impressed by the ga's quality, hesitated when it ca ti to place orders.
"Tom, it's a great ga," said a chain arcade owner from the Midwest, frowning. "But the new board costs almost twice as much as System 16. My old machines are still making money. That's a big risk."
"Yeah—what if players don't bite?"
Discussion broke out, and the atmosphere turned delicate.
Tom just smiled, saying nothing.
At that mont, a man in a floral shirt with a thick gold chain shoved through the crowd, strode to the front, and shouted in a heavy East Coast accent:
"Three hundred units. I'll take them right now! My trucks are outside—load them up!"
All eyes snapped to him. Soone recognized him as one of the biggest distributors on the East Coast.
The air in the warehouse froze.
Then it was as if a panic switch had been flipped.
Two thousand units! Only two thousand in the entire U.S.! And he'd just swallowed three hundred in one bite!
Would there even be enough left?
Everyone knew it—the first batch was always the most profitable.
Get a machine out one day earlier, and you earn back the cost one day sooner.
In the face of explosive revenue, that price difference was nothing.
"I'll take a hundred! Ship to Texas!"
"Fifty! Send them to Florida!"
"Damn it, don't push! Save twenty!"
Monts ago, they'd been hesitating over the price. Now, the owners charged toward the signing table like madn, waving checkbooks, terrified of being one step too slow.
The scene instantly spiraled out of control.
In less than two hours, all two thousand tal Slug machines were gone.
Amid the chaos, a small arcade owner from Los Angeles who hadn't managed to grab one stord up to Tom, eyes bloodshot, pointing at the lone demo machine in the corner.
"Mr. Kalinske! That one! Sell that one! I'll pay extra!"
"Sorry, that's our display unit—"
Before Tom could finish, the owner slamd a thick stack of cash onto the table and roared, "I'll haul it myself in my pickup!"
Staring at the man's almost feral gaze, Tom froze for a second—then burst out laughing. He clapped the owner on the shoulder.
"Deal."
Amused, he watched as the man and his partner treated the heavy arcade cabinet like a priceless treasure, struggling to load it onto their beat-up pickup before roaring off in a cloud of dust.
The smile on Tom's face slowly faded. He turned to his assistant.
"Call Tokyo headquarters. Now."
The assistant hurriedly pulled out his phone.
Tom looked at the long line of trucks waiting outside the warehouse, his grin spreading once more.
"Tell Director Nakayama to prepare another ten thousand units. No—twenty thousand."
"The war," he said softly, "has only just begun."
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