The Hong Kong and Taiwan inspection trip concluded, and Directors Terai and Hatano returned to Japan, their weary faces unable to conceal a glint of triumph, hinting at a fruitful journey.
Yet, under Takuya Nakayama's probing gaze at the airport, they remained tight-lipped, exchanging a knowing silence.
"The results will be reported at the board meeting," Director Terai said flatly, his tone carrying an unyielding weight.
Director Hatano, with a sly, fox-like smile, patted Takuya's shoulder, his eyes twinkling with cunning.
With their return, Takuya's million-chip procurement plan was formally tabled at the board meeting by the two directors.
To dispel any doubts about the massive chip order and secure unwavering support, a meticulously planned demonstration of the new console's launch game lineup was set to take center stage.
Sega's internal development teams, alongside third-party partners like Compile, Game Arts, and Square, answered the call, bringing their latest works crafted for the new console. Though many were early builds, far from complete, the showcase promised a glimpse of their potential.
The venue: Sega's top-floor boardroom.
Board members filed in, taking their seats, the air thick with a blend of caution and anticipation.
First up were Sega's internal arcade ports and Compile's *Puyo Puyo Adventure*.
When *Puyo Puyo Adventure*'s vibrant, cute visuals lit the screen, the room's tension eased slightly. A family-friendly party game collection, its playful music and varied, fun-filled minigames—paired with visuals far surpassing the Famicom's limits—sparked admiration. Directors saw the console's potential to capture a vast family audience, a stark contrast to the SG-1000's hardcore arcade focus.
The light moment passed, giving way to the main event.
Square's *Final Fantasy* and Sega's trump card, *Phantasy Star*, two heavyweight RPGs, were ready to shine.
*Final Fantasy*'s visuals filled the screen. Unlike *Dragon Quest*'s childlike brightness, it exuded a mature, profound aura. Stunning pixel art brought characters and scenes to life. Cinematic cutscenes, with deft camera work and atmosphere, hinted at a film-like narrative.
A senior director, eyeing the classic job system and crystal theme, murmured, "This reminds me of *Dragon Quest II*'s launch frenzy." That game's cultural phenomenon remained an industry legend.
Finally, Sega's *Phantasy Star*, led by Yuji Naka, took the stage. Its opening animation, blending sci-fi and fantasy, electrified the room. Cold starships met ancient magic, creating an unprecedented spectacle. First-person dungeon exploration delivered immersive thrills, as if players were navigating alien labyrinths. Its cutting-edge visuals and ethereal electronic score left even arcade-seasoned veterans awestruck, acknowledging that such deep, immersive RPGs were beyond arcade capabilities.
During a break between RPG demos, Takuya stepped in with measured clarity. "Directors, these two distinct RPGs are just part of our role-playing lineup for the new console."
His steady voice echoed in the hushed room.
"*Final Fantasy*'s classic heroism and *Phantasy Star*'s sci-fi exploration each have unique appeal. We must carefully coordinate their development and release schedules to sustain market momentum, avoiding simultaneous launches that could cause player fatigue or internal competition, thus maximizing commercial success."
Last came Sega's eighth team's *Super Robot Wars*. Its battles, dedicating all hardware power to dazzling combat animations, outshone the Famicom, silencing critics of robot anime IP licensing costs.
Throughout, every game—boasting arcade-quality visuals, fluid character animations, and visibly complex mechanics—screamed superiority over the aging Famicom.
The console's performance edge and robust launch lineup radiated confidence in the project.
The demo concluded.
Developers and partner reps left the room, faces alight with excitement and optimism, their work validated by Sega's board.
In the now-quiet boardroom, only Sega's directors remained, the vivid game footage still lingering in their minds.
"Remarkable," President Hayao Nakayama broke the silence, his robust voice tinged with awe. "The launch lineup from our teams and partners bolsters my confidence in the console's market prospects."
Director Hatano nodded firmly. "The president's right. This software strength justifies the massive hardware stockpile we discussed. These games will make players eager to buy the console."
His gaze swept his colleagues, brimming with conviction.
Director Terai cleared his throat, reiterating the million-chip order's strategic depth. "When Executive Nakayama discussed this order, he noted it's not just about cutting current hardware costs. It sets a pricing benchmark for future chip procurement. Once Toshiba accepts this rate, they—or any supplier—will think twice before jacking up prices. This paves the way for Sega's long-term supply chain control."
The room's atmosphere ignited with his words.
Unprecedented confidence swelled in every director's heart.
In this fervor, Terai, eyes blazing, proposed, "Let's vote on Executive Nakayama's proposal to procure 500,000 MC68000 and 500,000 Z80 chips from Toshiba, totaling one million."
Silence fell.
Then, hands rose one by one.
The vote was nearly unanimous. Only two conservative directors, wary of the risk, abstained. All others, including President Nakayama, cast firm approvals.
The proposal passed overwhelmingly.
The board resolved to send Directors Terai and Hatano to Toshiba to negotiate the million-chip order on Sega's behalf.