The New Year's bells of 1993 had just chid, and the clamor of the two-month-long comrcial war finally subsided.
After the fierce holiday sales battle, both Sega and Nintendo, along with the third-party developers who had cashed in, now resembled pythons that had just devoured entire oxen, coiled in their respective territories and quietly digesting their spoils.
The market entered a brief sage's ti.
Players huddled at ho, day and night, clearing the discounted gas they had snatched up, while in the ga companies' developnt departnts, only the rhythmic clack of keyboards echoed.
Takuya Nakayama sat in his office at Headquarters, surrounded by a stack of unapproved samples sent from the Arican branch.
Outside the window, Tokyo still lingered in the festive spirit of the New Year, but his expression was as sour as soone chewing on stale gum.
"What the hell is this...?"
He casually tossed a disc back onto the desk. Its cover featured terrified teenage girls and a man in a black suit wielding a strange drill-like tool—Midnight Trap.
This was a new Sega CD ga submitted by Digital Pictures in the U.S., touted as a "groundbreaking interactive live-action movie ga."
Truly groundbreaking—how terribly groundbreaking.
As a ti traveler, Takuya Nakayama had long heard of this ga's infamous reputation. But actually playing it and experiencing the physical discomfort it caused left him wanting to roast it.
Never mind the awful graphics, which, after being compressed for the Sega CD, looked like they'd been smothered in a layer of mosaic. The ga's design logic alone was enough to drive anyone insane.
The developnt team clearly suffered from a split personality.
They wanted to make a horror ga, so they created a horde of drill-wielding vampires called Augers to invade a house.
But as if the director had been drinking on the set, these villains looked like bumbling extras from a cheap tokusatsu movie. Their wobbly, unsteady gait completely lacked any sense of nace.
To avoid censorship, they deliberately reduced the amount of gore. The result was neither scary nor funny, just like a poorly written sitcom.
Even worse was the gaplay.
The screen was cramd with surveillance cara feeds, forcing players to constantly switch between views to spot the drill-wielding invaders, then ti their button presses to trigger traps at the right mont.
Want to follow the story?
Sorry, if you focus on watching the blonde woman in her nightgown talk, you'll inevitably miss the invading enemies—and get a Ga Over.
If you want to win, you have to keep your eyes glued on those boring corridors and empty rooms, leaving no ti to follow the story.
This is a contradictory half-finished product.
"For sothing like this to beco popular, it'd be like the sun rising from the west." Takuya Nakayama rubbed the bridge of his nose, just about to mark an "X" on the approval form when his pen suddenly froze in mid-air.
Wait.
His pupils constricted slightly.
Midnight Trap.
A switch deep in his mory had been triggered.
The reason this ga had beco infamous in his previous life wasn't because it was fun, but because it caused massive trouble.
In the United States, this ga was seized upon by moral guardians for its supposed "violent imagery targeting won" and "voyeuristic tendencies," and was dragged all the way to the Senate.
It was the fuse that lit the powder keg.
Takuya Nakayama shot upright, his fingers tapping rapidly on the desk.
If Midnight Trap was being submitted for approval now, that ant another, much bigger bombshell must have already appeared.
The real culprit that ignited public outrage, terrified Arican parents, and forced the gaming industry to implent a rating system—
Mortal Kombat.
"Damn it."
Takuya Nakayama cursed under his breath and quickly opened his computer, pulling up the sales records database for Sega of Arica.
The rapid tapping of his keyboard sounded especially urgent in the quiet office.
The screen flickered as lines of data scrolled by.
There it is.
Mortal Kombat, release date: October 8, 1992.
Just months earlier, while he'd been busy organizing the e-sports tournant, this fighting ga had quietly flooded video ga stores across North Arica.
He clicked open the detailed report.
The sales figures were impressive. The arcade version was exceptionally popular, and while the ho console version had just launched, its montum was already explosive.
The review departnt's comnts were brief: "Arican-style fighting ga with realistic graphics and decent gaplay. Approved for release."
"Decent gaplay my ass!" Takuya slamd his fist on the desk.
Those reviewers clearly hadn't played the ga to the end, hadn't seen that Finishing Move where a spine is ripped out, skull and all!
The gaming industry was like a lawless Wild West right now.
No ratings, no warnings—anything you could make, you could sell to a six-year-old.
Before Mortal Kombat, pixelated violence was acceptable because it was cartoonish.
Mortal Kombat, however, used digitized images of real people, bringing a visceral, blood-soaked realism that was nothing short of a nuclear-level visual shock for the ti.
It was early 1993.
If history followed its course, in just a few months, U.S. Senator Joe Lieberman would brandish Mortal Kombat and Night Trap during a Senate hearing, pointing at Sega and denouncing them as "a cancer corrupting Arica's youth."
This would be one of the darkest monts in video ga history. Nintendo would even seize the opportunity to slander Sega, positioning itself as the victim of family-friendly gaming while heaping all the bla onto its rival.
Takuya Nakayama leaned back in his chair, gazing at the bright sunlight outside the window, yet a chill ran down his spine.
Crisis often lurks not in a direct assault from a rival, but in these seemingly insignificant blind spots.
The wall clock struck 9:45.
Considering the ti difference, it was just past 4 PM at Sega of Arica Headquarters in Redwood City, California—pri ti for afternoon tea or wrapping up work for the day.
Takuya snatched up the phone and dialed the international number with practiced ease.
The call was answered after just two rings.
"Good morning, Takuya. Or should I say, good evening?" Tom Kalinske's voice carried an unmistakable cheerfulness, clearly buoyed by the company's strong holiday sales. "If you're calling to praise our ga Drive sales from the last quarter, I suggest you fax it instead. International calls are pricey."
"Tom, put down the champagne first," Takuya said, his voice completely serious as he twirled the phone cord around his finger. "If you have the Mortal Kombat sales report, you'd better grab two aspirin."
A two-second silence followed from the other end, and Tom's playful tone vanished. "What's wrong? I thought the ga was selling well. Arcade owners were lining up to place orders."
"The problem is it's selling too well, and it's too realistic." Takuya stared at the glaring numbers on his computer screen. "I just read the comnts from the review departnt. They clearly didn't tell you about the 'Finishing Moves'—where a player can yank a character's head off, spine and all, like pulling a carrot out of the ground."
"Aricans love this stuff—violent aesthetics. Isn't that what Hollywood does?" Tom dismissed the concern.
"Hollywood movies have ratings. R-rated films aren't sold to six-year-olds. But our cartridges are now prominently displayed on Walmart shelves, easily accessible to toddlers who've just learned to walk." Takuya paused, then emphasized his point: "Imagine if a senator's grandson demonstrates how to rip out an opponent's heart and crush it at a family gathering. What do you think the senator will say in Congress the next day?"
Please Support by becoming my patreon mber and get 30 chapters.
[email protected]/Ajal69
change @ with a
Thank You to Those who joined my Patreon
User Comments
0 comments from readers