Reborn in the Golden Age of Gaming: I Became the Prince of Sega Chapter 671 668: A Journalist's Hell

5:00 PM.

The ceiling lights of the Central Plaza Exhibition Hall at the Los Angeles Convention Center lit up.

The IDSA host stepped onto the stage and announced the end of the first day of the E3 press conference.

Sparse applause ca from the audience below.

Everyone was utterly exhausted.

A GaPro editor tossed two empty ballpoint pens into his backpack and rubbed his aching wrist.

From 9:15 AM until now, the relentless barrage of information had pushed his brain to the brink of collapse.

"It's over," said the EGM photographer beside him, slinging his cara around his neck and patting his empty film pack. "I brought twenty rolls of film. Even when that limbless Ubisoft monster appeared, I could only half-press the shutter, afraid there'd be more to co."

"Save it," replied the GaPro editor. "My tape recorder is full on both sides. I had no choice but to overwrite the morning's IS recording to capture that Ghost in the Shell Bulgarian chorus at the end."

As their colleagues around them stood up one by one, the creaks and cracks of stretching bones echoed through the hall.

The adrenaline-fueled excitent everyone felt when they first saw Final Fantasy VII and Ghost in the Shell had now transford into dread over tonight's deadline.

Dozens of gas.

Next-gen 3D graphics demos.

Comrcial battles over exclusive and non-exclusive titles.

The task of organizing all this into a coherent report by midnight, to be sent back to the editorial office first thing tomorrow morning, was nothing short of a disaster.

"I need coffee—double espresso," the young Wired journalist said, shoving his notebook into his pocket. "No sleep tonight."

"Let's go to the South Hall first," the senior editor said, patting him on the shoulder. "We'll grab the materials there."

In the South Hall's exhibition area, most of the demo stations had already been powered down. dia Day wasn't open to the public, and the companies needed to give their machines and staff so rest.

However, the front desks of each booth remained brightly lit. Public relations teams from major publishers like Sony, Sega, Nintendo, and Capcom had been on high alert all day.

Long tables were piled high with thick file folders. These folders contained written summaries of all the gas announced today, producer interviews, and most importantly, dia assets.

A Famitsu editor approached the Sega booth and presented his business card.

After verifying his information, a Sega staff mber handed over a surprisingly heavy file folder with both hands.

He opened the package and found a beautifully printed full-color booklet along with two plastic cases.

"What's this?" He pulled out one of the cases.

"It's an optical disc containing dia materials," the staff mber explained in fluent English. "It includes high-definition screenshots from all the gas showcased at today's press conference, plus lossless trailers for Final Fantasy VII and Ghost in the Shell."

The editor paused, montarily stunned.

In previous years, attending events like CES or other trade shows typically yielded nothing more than washed photos, posters, and printed pamphlets. These materials required scanning, and the text-heavy docunts demanded hours of typing to digitize.

Now, they were being given a CD-ROM disc instead.

"Sony's sending out discs too," a colleague returning from the Sony booth chid in, waving the case in his hand. "Six hundred trillion bytes of capacity! They cramd all the gaplay footage from Namco's gas onto it."

This shift brought a tangible sense of convenience to the journalists on the scene. With next-generation consoles using optical discs as their storage dium, the PR materials from manufacturers had naturally evolved to match.

"This will save us half a night's work," a tester from NetGeneration said, holding the disc case. A glimr of hope appeared on his weary face. "No more waiting in line for faxed images or rushing to get film developed. We can just pop this into the computer's disc drive and get to work."

"Sega even included the electronic press release, fully formatted."

"Thank goodness for technological progress."

The atmosphere among the dia representatives eased slightly.

Reporters, having collected their materials, began leaving in small groups of three or four, discussing their evening assignnts.

"You handle the Sony hardware review, I'll tackle the Square interview. Oh, and make a separate table for the graphics specs of those Namco gas—the hardware analysis readers love that kind of thing."

"That Capcom zombie ga needs its own full page. I already have the headline: 'The Fear Begins When You Press the Button'."

"Sounds good. Don't forget to add a warning at the end—'Heart patients proceed with caution'."

"Don't forget about Ubisoft's Rayman either. The European branch is keeping a close eye on it—it's a matter of French pride."

"What did Nintendo send over?"

"Just a stack of printed press releases and so high-res photos of Yoshi's Island. They're still clinging to the purity of print dia."

"What about Atari?"

"Atari sent out logo-branded ballpoint pens. They're surprisingly good—I used one to take notes just now."

The reporters burst out in weary laughter.

"Tomorrow's another day, and then there's Sunday's public day. I heard Sega is going to keep the MGS2 demo area open all day."

"Let's worry about tomorrow later. Just getting this manuscript finished tonight and out alive will be a victory."

Takuya Nakayama stood behind the second-floor glass curtain wall, watching the bustling crowd of people leaving the building below.

Hisao Oguchi approached and handed him a bottle of water.

"All the materials have been distributed. The dia feedback is excellent, especially regarding the arrangent of the optical disc content."

Takuya twisted open the bottle cap and took a sip.

"They'll be busy tonight," he said, watching the reporters with their bags. "The sound we hear tomorrow in the newspapers is the echo of the money we spent today."

At the Marriott Hotel in downtown Los Angeles, the hallway was perated with the burnt sll of coffee beans.

Near the ice maker, the trash bin overflowed with crumpled instant coffee packets.

Inside the room, a GaPro editor emptied the materials bag onto the bed.

Paper press releases, photographs, and two CD-ROM optical discs from Sega and Sony slid out, forming a small pile.

"I've done the math," he said, staring at the ss on the bed, dark circles under his eyes. "Over eighty gas were announced on the main stage today alone. Even if we write just a hundred words per ga, that's eight thousand words. Add in formatting and illustrations, and none of us will get any sleep tonight."

The photographer connected his cara to the computer with a data cable without looking up. "Stop complaining. Let's divide the work. Don't you usually love arguing with about which ga's graphics are better? Here's your chance—write out all the graphics specs for Namco's three PlayStation-exclusive gas."

Normally, the editorial team would be embroiled in heated debates over which story deserved the front page or how to score a particular ga. But tonight, all such disputes had vanished.

The sheer volu of information far exceeded anyone's processing capacity. Just finishing the work at hand would be a miracle.

"You get Capcom's zombie ga."

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