Chapter 22. Fair and Objective Critique
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"But…" Tsuda initially wanted to say something more, but after thinking it over, she realized there was no point. "Alright, I understand."
After hanging up the phone, she turned to Kiyoshi Yuuma.
"You heard the call too. So, what are you planning to do next?"
Kiyoshi Yuuma let out a sigh and didn't reply.
All he could think was: being weak is an original sin.
"Thank you for your efforts, President Tsuda. From now on, we'll give our all in pushing the sales," Kiyoshi Yuuma said with determination.
Seeing the resolute look in his eyes, Tsuda Nao nodded slightly. "Alright. Please do your best."
…
Since his rebirth, this was the first time Kiyoshi Yuuma truly understood what Tsuda meant when she said, "Just because a work is good doesn't mean it will succeed."
In this world, far too many factors can determine success or failure.
Back then, when the superstar Akina Nakamori was sidelined, her career also took a nosedive—it's something that happens all the time.
Or take film releases, for example: if theaters don't give you enough showings, what good is a great movie?
Japan in the '90s was still a society driven by personal relationships. The channels for exposure were very limited, and the internet didn't exist.
Even in the 2020s, getting your game to stand out was incredibly difficult.
Without capital backing or promotional support, without industry insiders giving you resources, an ordinary person trying to become a star was nothing short of a fantasy.
How could you possibly make it without hard work?
Back at the company, the staff stared expectantly at Kiyoshi Yuuma, like a bunch of baby birds waiting to be fed.
Especially Mika Ishino, with her big eyes, blinked hopefully, waiting for Kiyoshi Yuuma to bring back some good news.
But Kiyoshi Yuuma could only sigh and clap his hands together.
"Everyone!"
The staff quickly stood up and faced their president.
"As of now, the sales of Onmyoji haven't been very promising. I believe many of you have already sensed this."
The expressions on their faces dimmed.
Ever since DUN's investment, Pokeni had been revitalized. Especially when Onmyoji was finished and demonstrated in the meeting room, the whole team had been filled with hope and confidence.
Because Onmyoji truly is a good game.
Anyone who asked themselves honestly knew there was no reason for it to fail.
But reality was harsh—so harsh that no one wanted to accept it.
"But that doesn't mean Onmyoji is a failed product."
Kiyoshi Yuuma continued, "The real issue is that Pokeni is a small company, and we didn't have any standout titles before this."
"So I say again: being weak is an original sin."
"It's my fault that I couldn't bring you good news with this new release," he said. "I'm truly sorry."
With that, Kiyoshi Yuuma clasped his hands together and gave everyone a deep bow.
Mika Ishino's eyes turned red.
Akanishi Ken opened his mouth, wanting to say something comforting, but a lump rose in his throat, and he couldn't utter a single word.
Maybe it had been a mistake not to jump ship with Mizutani back then.
But in the era after the economic bubble burst, the window to switch jobs was very short, and now, there was no way back.
"From here on, Pokeni is going to fight with its back to the wall," Kiyoshi Yuuma said, lifting his head, eyes blazing with determination.
"Regardless of whether you're in the sales team or not, starting tomorrow, everyone will need to call clients, hand out flyers on the streets, pull people in… We have to do everything we can to promote Onmyoji."
"Thank you for all your hard work so far."
"Go home and get a good rest tonight. Starting tomorrow, we will go all out on sales."
"Yes!!" everyone responded in unison.
…
June 21, 1990
Enterbrain.
"Take a look at this game, give it a score the day after tomorrow, and prepare a report."
Editor-in-chief Hamakura Hirokazu placed several game cartridges on the desks of his editors.
Enterbrain was an entertainment magazine under MediaLeaves, a subsidiary of Kadokawa Shoten.
Aside from covering entertainment news, it had a major segment dedicated to reviewing and reporting on upcoming and recently released games, as well as publishing game walkthroughs.
But earlier this year, after Hamakura Hirokazu took over as editor-in-chief, he introduced major reforms—
He aimed to transform FAMICOM Tsūshin into a more comprehensive magazine with a distinct original flavor.
(FAMICOM Tsūshin would later become the renowned Famitsu. For simplicity, this book will continue referring to it as Famitsu.)
After taking over, Hamakura Hirokazu repositioned the CROSS REVIEW segment, intending to make it the industry's most authoritative review column. He also introduced the concept of the "Hall of Fame" for games.
CROSS REVIEW involved four editors scoring a game, each out of 10, for a maximum total of 40 points.
Any game scoring over 30 points would be inducted into the Hall of Fame, and the magazine would give such titles major promotional support.
Only a few titles in history had ever made it into the Platinum Hall of Fame, and they were all undisputed masterpieces. Being selected was a badge of honor for any game developer.
Calling it the Oscars of the Japanese gaming industry wouldn't be an exaggeration.
To maintain the integrity of CROSS REVIEW, Hamakura Hirokazu established a rule.
Editors could freely and bluntly critique the game itself, its strengths and flaws, but were strictly prohibited from commenting on the hardware or the publisher behind the game.
It was this commitment to [fairness], [justice], [transparency], and [representing the voice of the players], along with the editors' ruthless scoring, sharp-tongued reviews, and high standards, that made Famitsu the number one gaming magazine in the eyes of Japanese gamers.
It can be said that Famitsu had essentially become the "examiner" of the gaming industry.
In fact, by 1990, the magazine was already the undisputed most authoritative gaming publication in Japan.
One of the editors picked up a cartridge and glanced at it. "Hmm? Pokeni? I have never heard of it."
"Does it have anything special?" another editor asked.
"Please try it thoroughly and give an honest and accurate evaluation. That's all I have to say," said Hamakura Hirokazu as he patted the editors on the shoulder and left.
What more could he say?
Returning to his desk, Hamakura Hirokazu let out a sigh.
This was probably a favor the company president owed DUN.
Earlier that day, Tsuda Nao had personally visited the President of Kadokawa Shoten. That's likely the only reason he even agreed to review a game from a completely unknown company.
But to Hamakura, regardless of the game's actual performance or quality, the theme alone—ancient aesthetics + RPG + galgame—was intriguing enough to generate buzz.
And if the game turned out bad, all the better. He could go to town criticizing it.
In any case, Hamakura made one thing very clear to himself: He would absolutely not let this so-called personal recommendation or President's request affect his professional judgment and give it an undeserved high score.
Fair and objective evaluation is the very foundation upon which Famitsu had been successful today.