While the PC Engine's initial sales were strong, it barely made ripples beyond gaming circles, remaining a "rich kid's toy" among players.
The spotlight swung back to Sony.
Sony's global advertising blitz for *Dance Dancer Revolution* (DDR) hit like a meticulously planned lightning strike, capturing the world's major cities in an instant.
Rapidly cut montages showcased DDR machines' dazzling lights, illuminating players' vibrant dance moves—professional dancers with graceful power or charismatic young actors radiating youthful energy.
The background music, handpicked from Sony's vast catalog, featured chart-topping hits with massive regional appeal.
Bold slogans flashed onscreen:
"Dance to Your Favorite Songs!"
"Define Your Rhythm!"
These incendiary taglines ignited viewers' deep-seated desires for music and freedom.
New York's Times Square jumbotron flared to life at the appointed hour.
Tokyo's Shibuya crossing, usually awash with fashion ads, was dominated by DDR's visuals.
London's Piccadilly Circus saw ancient architecture juxtaposed with modern screens, DDR stealing the focus.
Sony leveraged its global network to ensure maximum exposure in prime time and prime locations.
In Sony's headquarters, Shigeo Maruyama stood before a projector cycling through photos of DDR ad placements from worldwide branches. Familiar city landmarks glowed anew with DDR's flair. Success reports poured in, confirming the flawless execution of the global rollout.
Satisfied, Maruyama shifted focus to Ken Kutaragi's progress on game LD production and the arcade machine stock updates he needed to coordinate with Sega.
In Tokyo's Shibuya, Yoko Oginome's *Dancing Hero* blasted from a massive electronics store screen, its infectious intro igniting DDR's ad. A group of trendy young girls froze in their tracks.
"Wow! It's Yoko-chan's song!" one squealed, eyes sparkling as she watched arrows sync with dancers' moves.
"Those dance steps look so cool!" another said, pointing at a swift slide-step, her voice full of longing.
Recognizing their idol's hit, they hummed along, bodies swaying instinctively. A few bold ones mimicked the onscreen steps, clumsy but excited, their enthusiasm drawing curious onlookers.
"If I can dance to this song, I'm in!"
Their chatter buzzed with anticipation for the novel game.
Simultaneously, Japanese TV entertainment shows pounced on the phenomenon. Commentators dissected Sony and Sega's bold move, predicting a cultural tidal wave. Social media exploded with "Sony's new dance game" trending, *Dancing Hero* discussions skyrocketing.
In New York's Times Square, Rick Astley's husky, magnetic *Never Gonna Give You Up* poured from DDR's ad. Rushed pedestrians halted, drawn by the familiar tune and novel visuals.
"Hey, isn't that Rick's song?" a suited man said, glancing up from his watch, surprised.
His companion eyed the foot-stomping gameplay. "A video game like this? Not just blocky graphics?"
Nearby street teens, lounging against a wall, drifted over, one nodding to the beat. "A dance-based game? Sounds nothing like controller mashing!"
Wonder and curiosity rippled through the crowd.
In London, as dusk fell, a pub's patrons spilled out, arms slung over shoulders. Across the street, Modern Talking's *Brother Louie* pulsed from a DDR ad, its disco beat seizing their attention. Onscreen, players danced under flashing lights, steps mesmerizing.
"Whoa, check that out! So cool!" a blond youth whistled, pointing.
They marveled at the fusion of pop music and dynamic dance, itching to try it.
"Where can we play this?"
"Gotta find out tomorrow—definitely trying it!"
Excitement, fueled by alcohol, soared.
Sony's ad blitz, like a spark in dry grass, set global youth ablaze. It didn't just hook core gamers but drew non-gamers, especially young fans of local hits, eager to try DDR.
Media predicted DDR as the year's phenomenon. The "Dance Revolution" slogan, sown through pervasive ads, took root, embedding itself in hearts worldwide.
Market anticipation, propelled by relentless promo waves, hit unprecedented heights.
At Nintendo's headquarters, the boardroom's atmosphere was as oppressive as a pre-storm sea. Reports on Sony and Sega's DDR ad offensive piled before Hiroshi Yamauchi, each detailing the campaign's scale and resolve.
Times Square's massive ads.
Shibuya's surging crowds.
London's fervent street buzz.
Feedback from Europe, North America's secondary cities, even Southeast Asia's emerging markets—all pointed to DDR's tidal wave.
"Sony's gone all-in, leveraging every global music channel," an executive said, voice faintly hoarse, breaking the silence.
"Maruyama's personally overseeing it—their commitment's clear," another added, worry creasing his brow.
"Sega's Takuya Nakayama—his knack for market trends and orchestrating this scale of promotion is undeniable. How many times has he done this?"
Yamauchi's face was a storm cloud, silent as he flipped through reports, knuckles whitening from his grip.
He felt Sony's crushing offensive, a dimensional strike powered by their music-entertainment dominance. This wasn't mere game competition—it was a cultural juggernaut.