Sega's headquarters had become a sea of celebration.
The huge success of the promotional campaign left every participating third-party developer overflowing with profits. Calls of gratitude poured in nonstop, keeping the marketing department's phone lines jammed all day.
Those company presidents who had spent the previous year losing sleep over inventory pile-ups and cash-flow crises now sounded full of vigor over the phone. After watching half their warehouses finally emptied and converted into solid cash—and then reading Nintendo's notice to "delay distributing SFC devkits to studios that cooperated with Sega's promotion"—their hearts were crystal clear.
One side treated its allies like brothers, helping everyone get rich together.
The other stood aloof on its throne, treating partners like vassals to be scolded or punished at will.
Was there even a choice?
At Taito headquarters, President Nishida Zenji hung up yet another congratulatory—and faintly probing—call. He lifted his teacup and blew aside a floating leaf.
The man on the other end had been a mid-sized studio's president, his voice betraying thinly veiled anxiety.
"President Nishida… Nintendo's gone mad. If they really push back our SFC devkits for half a year, then—"
"What are you panicking for?" Nishida took a sip of tea and replied lazily. "Old Yamauchi's just lost his mind from anger. He's throwing a tantrum like a child."
"Look at how much SFC stock they've shipped. Then look at how much moldy inventory we cleared out thanks to Sega. Which one is real money and which one is a castle in the air? You really can't tell?"
Silence hung on the line before a sigh finally came.
"I know, I know… but it's Nintendo…"
"What about Nintendo?" Nishida's voice was not loud, yet carried undeniable weight. "Can they stop us from selling games on the FC? Last month I had the team toss together a warmed-over re-release of Bubble Bobble. That little pile of pixels sold better than plenty of so-called new games."
"The FC's tens of millions of users will feed us for years. And Sega doesn't demand exclusivity, either—the MD already has thirty million units out there. As for the SFC, once it reaches five or six million units, then we can think about developing for it. Whoever wants to be the first sucker to test the waters can go right ahead."
Those words finally enlightened the caller, who thanked him repeatedly before hanging up.
Nishida set down his cup and walked to the window, overlooking Tokyo.
Times had changed.
Third-party studios no longer flocked to Kyoto in pilgrimage.
Nintendo's harsh exclusivity rules—broken open by Sega two years ago—were now full of holes. At this point, they were practically a joke.
And Sega never forced anyone to pick sides.
Nakayama's stance was crystal clear:
Make good games, make money.
Where you sell them and which platforms you port to—we don't meddle.
As long as you treat the MD as one of your primary platforms, everyone gets to earn together.
This kind of freedom was something third-party studios—crushed for years under Nintendo's "royal authority"—had never even dared to dream of.
So now, many studios released their titles first on arcade platforms or the MD. If the game performed well, they would port polished versions to other systems to squeeze out every last drop of value.
As for Nintendo's SFC?
They would wait.
Wait until they earned enough.
Wait until Nintendo stocked enough units.
Then port their recent titles over.
---
Meanwhile, at Nintendo headquarters in Kyoto—
The head of the marketing department stood before Yamauchi Hiroshi's desk, sweat streaming down his temples, barely able to breathe.
"…That's the situation," he whispered. "The studios were polite on the phone, but once we mentioned SFC devkit deposits and queue priority… they all began dodging."
"Taito claims their next six months are dedicated to arcade development. Namco says their top team needs 'creative replenishment' and has gone to the hot springs. Capcom was even blunter—they'll 'wait for the market to mature.'"
The more he spoke, the softer his voice became. He risked a glance at Yamauchi—and his heart clenched tight.
Yamauchi didn't explode. He didn't even speak.
He simply sat there tapping the desk with his finger.
Every tap felt like a hammer falling onto the man's spine.
"The funniest one was Irem…" he added weakly, as if hoping humor might ease the tension. "They said their lead programmer won the lottery and left to travel the world. They can't contact him."
Yamauchi's expression only grew colder.
Those studio presidents who once bowed and scraped before him… now dared to speak in riddles and sarcasm.
"Creative replenishment."
"Traveling the world."
All just polite ways of saying:
'We'll come back after you create enough SFC users for us to profit from.'
They were waiting.
Waiting for Nintendo to pave the road alone.
Waiting for the SFC to grow large enough for them to swoop in like sharks that smelled blood.
But to invest early?
To help Nintendo expand its territory?
Not a chance.
Sega had already shown them the truth with solid cash:
Why be a dog when you can be a brother?
"Enough. You may go."
Yamauchi finally spoke, his voice calm and flat.
The marketing head felt like he had been pardoned from death. He bowed and fled.
Silence returned to the office.
Yamauchi slowly rose and walked to the window, overlooking the city.
He had built an empire—an empire that once forced every game studio to bow before Kyoto.
And now, that empire's foundations had been shaken.
With nothing more than Sega's brute-force tactic of "throwing money around."
Threats no longer worked.
Punishments had nowhere to land.
Nintendo's royal authority had never felt so powerless.
He picked up the internal phone and dialed.
"Send Miyamoto to my office."
A short while later, Miyamoto Shigeru knocked and entered, dark circles still faint beneath his eyes.
"President, you wanted to see me?"
"The third-party studios have all rejected us." Yamauchi cut straight in, his voice stripped of emotion.
Miyamoto froze.
"They're waiting," Yamauchi said, turning toward his star creator. "Waiting for the SFC to open the market on its own. They want to watch us make fools of ourselves. They want to watch the empire of Nintendo crumble."
He stepped closer.
"Our development teams can't expand at the old pace anymore. Your Zelda alone isn't enough. We need more first-party titles. We no longer have any retreat."
"I want those traitors to regret not getting our devkits the moment they were released."
He placed a heavy hand on Miyamoto's shoulder.
"Miyamoto-kun… do you understand?
First-party titles are now the only pillar supporting the SFC."
Feeling that weight on his shoulder, the excitement Miyamoto carried with him from a night of development melted away—leaving only the crushing pressure.
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