DDR's resounding success held a mirror to Sega's glaring weakness in home console distribution channels.
"The Mega Drive is our next-gen hope, carrying Sega's future. We cannot repeat past mistakes in channel-building," a director declared.
All eyes turned to Takuya Nakayama, the young visionary behind DDR's commercial miracle, now expected to chart the Mega Drive's path.
Feeling the weight of their gazes, Takuya cleared his throat, his voice calm yet confident. "I have some preliminary ideas for the Mega Drive's distribution."
He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Beyond traditional toy and game stores, we should diversify and deepen our channels by forging new partnerships."
"For instance, we could collaborate with Sanrio."
"Sanrio?" a director questioned, puzzled.
"Yes, Sanrio," Takuya affirmed. "With their globally beloved Hello Kitty and extensive retail network—where our Pokémon products already sell well—Sanrio reaches young women and families, markets we've overlooked. Promoting simple, fun, cute, and family-friendly party games through their channels would be ideal."
The suggestion sparked intrigue among the executives—a fresh approach.
"Next, we should partner with Mattel, the global toy giant," Takuya continued. "Their unmatched channel strength and brand influence in mainstream Western family markets will be key to penetrating Europe and North America. We can mirror the Sanrio strategy for initial promotions."
"And one more thing," he said, scanning the room with his boldest idea yet. "Pokémon Centers."
"Given Pokémon's steady stream of stunning merchandise over the past year, Pokémon Center stores have consistent, high foot traffic. Selling Mega Drive consoles and future Pokémon-themed games—including limited-edition Pokémon consoles—in these stores creates a win-win. Pokémon fans overlap heavily with gamers, enabling precise marketing. Console buyers may also purchase other games, expanding our user base."
These proposals opened new doors, illuminating a broader market horizon for the Mega Drive.
Director Yoshikawa's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Takuya's suggestions are highly constructive."
Masao Suzuki nodded vigorously. "Especially the Pokémon Center tie-in. These are direct, fragmented channels, but their breadth and volume could massively boost the Mega Drive's rollout."
After heated discussion, the board reached consensus. Yoshikawa authorized immediate negotiations with Sanrio, Mattel, and Sega-licensed Pokémon Centers to pave a wide road for the Mega Drive's global launch.
A week after DDR's release, its market fervor exceeded expectations. Not only were current songs universally praised, but players clamored for more of their favorite tracks to be added. Seeing the soaring enthusiasm and skyrocketing orders, Sony and Sega executives swiftly enacted a pre-planned move, announcing a bombshell that electrified the global gaming community:
"The Second Esports Tournament—DDR Global City Showdown—is officially launched!"
The news spread like wildfire via TV, newspapers, radio, and arcade posters. Detailed rules followed: city qualifiers would judge players on "style" (40%), "difficulty completion" (40%), and "game score" (20%). Eight-player same-song matches would brutally eliminate all but the top scorer per round until 32 remained. City finals, with fewer than 32 teams, would shift to solo performances judged by professionals, selecting the top eight. These would face double-elimination matches to crown city champions and runners-up.
The global finals were set for January 9, 1988, at Tokyo's Kasumigaoka National Stadium, where champions from 16 cities would vie for DDR's ultimate glory. Beyond hefty cash prizes, the top three's dances would be recorded live by Sega and Sony, turned into new song LDs for arcades, with winners earning royalty shares.
The announcement set arcades ablaze worldwide. Self-proclaimed DDR masters and dance enthusiasts erupted with unprecedented zeal. Within a week, global sign-ups surpassed 10,000.
Sega's experience from the first esports tournament, paired with Sony's robust resources, ensured seamless event organization worldwide. Despite the massive investment, both saw the immense commercial and cultural potential.
In Los Angeles, CBS anchor Mark Thompson frowned at a program brief on his desk, his usually stoic newsman face etched with reluctance. "Los Angeles DDR City Championship Qualifiers and Finals Live Coverage?" he muttered, a hint of absurdity in his tone.
Last week, he'd mispronounced a Middle Eastern leader's name during a broadcast—a minor gaffe that made him the office's unspoken "fall guy." Now, this "lowly" task had predictably landed on him.
"Mark, it's the higher-ups' call," his supervisor said, clapping his shoulder with a mix of firmness and pity. Nearby colleagues swapped smirks, stifling laughter.
Mark sighed, suppressing irritation, and skimmed DDR's materials. Flashy interfaces and arrow-stomping youths only deepened his disdain. To him, this "dance-arrow game" was a waste of prime-time airwaves and an insult to his journalistic integrity.