"Oh my God—it's Final Fantasy IV!" Jesse's eyes went wide. "I thought Sega had forgotten about us! Those bastards—Japan's had it for how long now?!"
Just a few months earlier, they had been venting their rage in the letters section of gaming magazines, cursing Sega in the harshest terms for failing to launch the ga globally at the sa ti, forcing North Arican players to watch helplessly as Japanese gars enjoyed this top-tier RPG.
And now, all that resentnt vanished the instant they saw it in person.
No—more than that, it transford into an even fiercer enthusiasm.
Because what they were looking at wasn't just a cartridge.
Beside it lay a beautifully designed CD and a thick, hardcover art book, hefty as a dictionary.
"Final Fantasy IV: Original Soundtrack?"
"The World of Aedrul: Setting Materials Collection?"
"Wait—this… this is bundled? Has Sega lost its mind?"
A clerk happened to walk over and said with a smile, "No, gentlen. This is Sega's celebration. The cartridge is the standard edition—but if you're willing to spend a little more, you can take this world's music and history ho with you as well."
The words seed almost magical. The boys' breathing grew heavy.
They had already been yearning for this top-tier MD RPG through every gaming magazine imaginable.
Now Sega had not only brought it over, but had also delivered an unimaginably lavish gift.
This wasn't selling a ga anymore.
It was an invitation to step into a complete fantasy world.
"Mom, can I ask for my Christmas present early this year?"
"Shut up, Tim. Even if I have to give you all my lunch money today, I'm taking this whole set ho!"
At that mont, MD ga sales in North Arica—which had been slipping due to the explosive popularity of tal Slug—suddenly slamd on the accelerator, tracing a steep V-shaped rebound.
And the locomotive pulling that curve was the newly released Final Fantasy IV.
The war for the living room was reignited by Sega at the mont Nintendo least expected.
The relief Minoru Arakawa had just begun to feel was once again shoved up into his throat.
He had been gritting his teeth, waiting for players to exhaust their enthusiasm for arcades—only to be t with an even more terrifying surge of purchasing desire for yet another Sega title.
He felt like a boxer facing a combination attack: having just taken a vicious left hook and barely regained his footing, a heavier right straight had already slamd squarely into his face.
On Arakawa's desk—
On one side lay the inventory receipt for the first batch of SNES consoles flown into port.
On the other was the latest market intelligence just delivered by the marketing departnt.
Spread out across the desk were the sales figures for the English version of Final Fantasy IV. That sharply rising curve stabbed at the eyes like a knife.
Beside it, several mainstream gaming magazines were singing the praises of this so-called "collector's edition," with glossy cover spreads showing the cartridge, soundtrack CD, and setting book as a trinity, radiating irresistible allure.
"This is nothing but a scam!" Howard Lincoln slamd his fist on the desk, making the coffee cup jump. "Sega and Square are just pulling one over on people! They cooked up this flashy nonsense just to placate North Arican players angry about the delayed release!"
His face flushed as he added bitterly, "I just confird with Kyoto—they've launched this set in Japan too! It's not so North Arica–exclusive at all!"
Arakawa said nothing. He rely glanced at Lincoln, then at the brand-new SNES unit sitting on his desk, freshly unboxed from the warehouse.
He wanted to nod in agreent, to vent his frustration with a line like, "That's right—those opportunistic bastards."
But he couldn't open his mouth.
Because Nintendo had no such right.
The SFC had been on sale in Japan for a full year.
A full year—and only now was its North Arican version, the SNES, just beginning to arrive in warehouses.
What right did they have to accuse Sega of being three months late?
Unbidden, the image of a man nad Takuya Nakayama surfaced in Arakawa's mind.
Ever since that man had taken control of Sega, the company's style had changed.
From the MD era onward, most Sega titles were released simultaneously in multiple languages worldwide, driven by Nakayama's almost obsessive insistence.
Sotis, even if the English translation was only a few days behind schedule, he would forcibly push back the Japanese release date as well—just to ensure players around the world could get the ga on the sa day.
That posture allowed Western players and distributors—long treated as second-class citizens by Nintendo—to feel, for the first ti, what respect actually ant.
By contrast, what about Nintendo?
Still the sa slow, aristocratic old-guard routine.
The Japanese dostic market always took the first bite of the feast, and only then did they rember to toss the leftovers overseas.
First the Japanese version launched; only afterward did they leisurely begin organizing staff to work on the English version.
They didn't even bother urging third-party developers to handle English localization.
A finely crafted ga would be shoved straight onto Western shelves, screens full of Japanese kana.
Can't understand the story?
Can't read the nus?
That's your problem.
If you want to play, endure it.
Thinking of this, Arakawa felt his face burn.
He picked up a detailed report on Final Fantasy IV. Lincoln's earlier complaints now seed almost laughable.
"Tricking North Arican players?" Arakawa's voice was hoarse. "Take another look at this."
He pointed to a line of fine print in the report.
"In Japan, although this collector's set can be purchased separately, the combined price of the soundtrack and setting book cos out to ten dollars more than buying the entire bundle here in North Arica."
Lincoln's mouth fell open in a perfect "O."
"In other words," Arakawa said slowly, "North Arican players are getting the complete set for less money. Even if they know Japan is selling it too, all they'll feel is that they got a bargain."
The office fell into dead silence.
The anger on Lincoln's face quickly gave way to a mixture of confusion and frustration.
He had thought he'd caught the enemy red-handed—only to realize it was a carefully designed embrace.
Damn that Takuya Nakayama!
Even his thods of placating players were executed so flawlessly, so watertight, that he could win people over in the process.
Arakawa tossed the report back onto the desk and leaned into his chair, overwheld by a deep sense of powerlessness.
He finally understood that this war was no longer just about ga versus ga, console versus console.
It was a full-spectrum war of posture, sincerity, and strategic business layout.
And he—and Nintendo as a whole—had taken the wrong stance from the very beginning.
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