Almost simultaneous with Nintendo's high-level eting.
Tokyo, Ota Ward, Namco headquarters.
The atmosphere in Masaya Nakamura's office grew heavier.
He had just received official notice from Nintendo.
The Famicom version of Pac-Man must follow Nintendo's schedule, launching full-scale marketing and promotions imdiately for a near-term release.
This timing confird it: Pac-Man was being used to snipe Fatal Fury.
Nakamura set down the phone, his fingertips whitening from pressure. He felt the invisible, omnipresent weight from Kyoto. Releasing a long-shelved classic IP on the Famicom's massive platform should have been cause for celebration.
But now, it felt like being a stepping stone, diluting a rival's new work with Namco's classic.
Namco had to align with Nintendo's strategy, using Pac-Man's nostalgia to divert market attention, perhaps to "balance" public perception and highlight Nintendo's first-party "legitimacy."
Stepping out, he saw employees busy preparing Pac-Man's promotional materials. The classic, cute, but simplistic pixel art contrasted starkly with Fatal Fury's sharp, powerful character designs in a ga magazine young staffers were secretly passing around down the hall.
He overheard their hushed excitent, one gesturing animatedly.
"Hey, seen the latest Animage? That Fatal Fury trailer is insane! The blond guy's moves are so cool!"
"Yeah, the action feels like it's not even TV ani! And I hear Sega's teaching moves after the episodes!"
"Really? So we can try them in arcades? Sega's playing big…"
Noticing Nakamura's gaze, they fell silent, hastily hiding the magazine and pretending to study Pac-Man's pixel art.
Seeing Namco's thodical, sowhat dated promotional plan, a profound sense of powerlessness hit Nakamura.
This was the cost of dependence. No matter past glories, reliance ant bowing to others' whims.
He clenched his fists, swallowing frustration, and walked away.
Late December, Tokyo's streets swept by biting winds.
While Namco's oppressive atmosphere centered on Pac-Man's rushed Famicom launch, a small dia event co-hosted by Sega and Tatsunoko Studio dropped a bombshell.
Under flashing caras, Tatsunoko's representative and Sega's marketing head stood side by side.
They announced Fatal Fury's arcade version would launch January 11, 1986, across Sega's direct and partner arcades in Japan.
More thrilling for reporters and magazine readers: the eagerly awaited Fatal Fury TV ani would premiere the sa day, January 11.
Ga and ani, synchronized.
The news hit like a lightning bolt, electrifying all who followed.
The trailer's hype hadn't faded; this precise "one-two punch" pushed it higher.
The ani's massive premiere buzz would funnel directly to freshly stocked arcade machines.
The news reached Nintendo's Kyoto headquarters.
Hiroshi Yamauchi glanced at the latest briefing, his brow twitching faintly.
Sega's chosen date surprised him slightly.
But his expression soon reverted to its usual calm.
"Arcades are arcades," he told nearby executives, his tone carrying unshakable authority.
"Animation is just icing."
"Our real battlefield is consoles."
Still, to curb Fatal Fury's launch montum and prevent it from stealing too much spotlight, Yamauchi issued another directive to Namco.
When the phone rang at Namco's headquarters, Nakamura's heart sank.
As expected, Nintendo demanded Pac-Man's Famicom release on January 8.
Just before Fatal Fury.
Nakamura's grip on the receiver whitened his knuckles.
Helplessness and frustration nearly overflowed.
But he responded in a calm, almost numb tone, "Yes, we'll fully cooperate."
Hanging up, he felt a deep powerlessness.
Namco, once an arcade giant, now scrambled resources under Nintendo's baton, using a classic ant for careful preparation as cannon fodder to block a rival.
Namco's departnts plunged into chaotic busyness.
Overti rushed promotional materials and adjusted distribution channels, all marked by forced haste.
January 8, 1986.
Pac-Man's Famicom version launched as planned.
Namco, per Nintendo's orders, rolled out a nostalgia-driven campaign.
Nintendo's vast Famicom user base and Pac-Man's arcade fanbase ensured decent initial sales.
On paper, it was a solid product.
But the market's true response was far less rosy.
No expected buying frenzy.
No fervent player discussions.
dia coverage was routine, lacking real excitent.
Compared to Fatal Fury's impending launch days away, Pac-Man felt "quiet."
Nakamura stood at his office window, watching sparse street crowds below.
He held the preliminary sales data just delivered.
The numbers were fine but couldn't dispel his gloom.
He clearly sensed Nintendo's "snipe" using Pac-Man had limited impact.
Worse, the tepid response highlighted Fatal Fury's trailer-fueled montum.
The public's anticipation wasn't on this "old bean."
Nakamura's gaze drifted to an open ga magazine on his desk.
A Fatal Fury ad dominated, Terry Bogard's powerful pose filling the page.
His emotions were mixed.
Disappointnt that Namco's classic was reduced to a tool.
A complex mix of surprise, admiration, and perhaps… envy for Sega's—or rather, Takuya Nakayama's—innovative market strategy.
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