"But..." Tsuda was about to protest, but reconsidered, realizing further argument would be futile. "Alright, I understand."
After hanging up, she turned to look at Aoki Haruhi.
"You heard the call. What are you going to do next?"
Aoki Haruhi sighed and remained silent.
Weakness is the original sin, he thought.
"Thank you for your concern, President Tsuda," Aoki Haruhi said resolutely. "We'll give it our all to boost sales."
Seeing his determined gaze, Tsuda Nao nodded slightly. "Alright, keep up the good work!"
After being reborn, Aoki Haruhi finally understood what Tsuda Nao meant when she said, "It's not enough for a work to be of high quality to achieve success."
In this world, there were far too many factors that could determine success or failure.
It was common for even megastars like Nakamori Akina to fall into decline after being sidelined, as happened to her back in the day.
Or consider movie releases: what good is a great film if the cinemas don't give it enough screen time?
In 1990s Japan, it was still a society driven by personal connections, with very limited channels for publicity and no internet.
Even in 2020s China, it's incredibly difficult for a game to break through without capital backing and marketing, or the resources provided by influential figures.
For ordinary people to become stars is nothing short of a pipe dream without such advantages.
How could he possibly succeed without working harder?
Back at the office, the employees stared at Aoki Haruhi with eager eyes, like a flock of hungry chicks.
Ishino Mika, in particular, blinked her big eyes rapidly, hoping he would bring some good news.
Aoki Haruhi simply sighed and clapped his hands.
"Everyone!"
The employees immediately stood up and turned to face their President.
"The sales of Onmyoji have been less than optimistic so far. I think we all feel this in our hearts."
The expressions on their faces darkened.
Since securing DUN's investment, Pokeni had been revitalized. Especially when Onmyōji was completed and demonstrated in the conference room, the employees had been filled with anticipation and confidence.
Because Onmyōji was truly a good game.
Anyone who asked themselves honestly couldn't find a reason for its failure.
Yet the reality was so cruel that no one wanted to accept it.
"But this doesn't mean Onmyōji is a failure," Aoki Haruhi continued. "It's just that Pokeni is a small company, and we didn't have any truly impressive works before."
"So, weakness is the original sin!"
"It's my fault that our new game didn't bring you good news. I'm truly sorry," Aoki Haruhi said.
He clasped his hands at his chest and bowed deeply to the crowd.
Ishino Mika's eyes reddened.
Akanishi Ken opened his mouth, intending to offer words of comfort, but a lump formed in his throat, and no sound came out.
Maybe not following Mizutani when he jumped ship was the wrong decision.
But in this era of economic collapse, opportunities for job hopping were fleeting. There was no turning back now.
"From now on, Pokeni will fight with its back against the wall," Aoki Haruhi declared, his gaze burning with intensity.
"Whether you were originally in sales or not, starting tomorrow, you'll all be making calls to clients, handing out flyers on the street, and recruiting... We'll do everything we can to push Onmyoji."
"Thank you all for your hard work during this difficult time."
"Go home and rest well tonight. Tomorrow, we'll go all out with sales."
"Yes!!!" The crowd responded in unison.
June 21, 1990
Enterbrain Corporation.
"Take a look at these games. Give me your reviews and reports by the day after tomorrow."
Editor-in-Chief Hamamura Hirokazu placed several game boxes on the editors' desks.
Enterbrain was an entertainment magazine publisher under MediaLeaves, a subsidiary of Kadokawa Publishing.
In addition to covering entertainment news, its core module focused on tracking upcoming and released games, and creating strategy guides based on their content.
However, after Hamamura Hirokazu became editor-in-chief at the beginning of the year, he proposed a major reform:
He wanted to transform FAMICOM Tsūshin into a more comprehensive and original magazine.
FAMICOM Tsūshin would later become the renowned Famitsu (for narrative convenience, the book will use the name Famitsu throughout).
After taking over as editor-in-chief, Hamamura Hirokazu repositioned the CROSS REVIEW section, deliberately shaping it into the industry's highest authority and introducing the concept of the "Hall of Fame" for games.
The CROSSREVIEW section of Famitsu features four editors rating a game, with each editor giving a maximum score of 10, for a total maximum score of 40.
Games scoring over 30 points are inducted into the Hall of Fame, and the magazine then promotes these outstanding works.
Few games have ever entered the Platinum Hall of Fame, and they are almost universally undisputed masterpieces.
All game developers take pride in having their games inducted into Famitsu's Platinum Hall of Fame.
It's no exaggeration to call it the "Video Game Oscars" of Japan.
To uphold the authority of CROSSREVIEW, Hamamura Hirokazu established strict guidelines for editors: they are free to criticize the game's strengths and weaknesses without restraint, but absolutely forbidden from praising or denigrating the hardware or the publisher.
This commitment to "fairness, impartiality, transparency, and representing the voice of the players," combined with the editors' ruthless critiques, rigorous scoring, and venomous prose, has cemented Famitsu's status as the number one game magazine in the eyes of players.
In essence, Famitsu now functions as the "examiner" of the game industry.
By the 1990s, the magazine had already become the undisputed authority in Japanese gaming, with no rivals.
One of the editors picked up the game card and glanced at it. "Hmm? Pokeni? Never heard of it."
"Does it have anything special about it?" another editor asked.
"Please experience the game thoroughly and provide an accurate and honest assessment. I can't comment further," Hamamura said, patting everyone on the shoulder before leaving.
What should I say?
Back at his desk, Hamamura sighed.
This must be a favor the President owes DUN, right?
Today, Tsuda Nao had specifically visited the President of Kadokawa Publishing.
That's why they were asked to review a game from such an unknown company.
However, for Hamamura, regardless of the game's performance or quality, the very theme of Onmyoji—ancient style + RPG + galgame—was inherently highly topical.
If the game was terrible, they could even criticize it extensively.
In any case, Hamamura vowed not to let personal connections or the President's request compromise his professional integrity by giving false high scores.
Fair and honest assessments were the bedrock upon which Famitsu had built its reputation.
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