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Chapter 676 Sonaya "Amaterasu" Solution.
🕑 Added 2025-09-29 02:18:32 +0000 UTCWhile Zaboru remained occupied with meetings at Disney’s offices, back in Sonaya’s headquarters in Japan, an important internal discussion was underway. The topic was the future of their next-generation console, currently known as Project “Amaterasu,” and more specifically, the critical decision of which media format the system would adopt for its games.
Junpei Hoshida, head of the Game Division, stood at the front of the Sonaya Workshop, presenting key data to the team. “We’ve been developing Project ‘Amaterasu,’ our next-generation video game console, and the planning started back in late 1994. Most development sectors have progressed smoothly, and we’re already entering the final stages. However, there’s still one major issue we haven’t been able to overcome—the cartridge system for storing our games.”
Everyone in the room nodded in agreement, including Hikaru Kurata, Sonaya’s CEO and a major shareholder. Kurata had been closely monitoring the Amaterasu project more than any other within Sonaya. His deep passion for the gaming industry was well known, especially since this was one of the few sectors in electronics where Sonaya had consistently lagged behind—outperformed by ZAGE in both innovation and market share.
“The reason we set out to create a 32-bit console in the first place was to give players the ability to experience ‘true 3D games’—just like in arcades or on high-end PCs—but in the comfort of their own homes couch,” Junpei explained. “However, as we’ve pushed for games with more impressive performance and graphical fidelity, the biggest obstacle we keep running into is the cartridge format. It simply doesn’t have enough storage capacity to handle the size of the data our games require.”
He paused for emphasis. “Right now, cartridges max out at 32 megabytes. That’s just not enough. Our planned titles go far beyond that in terms of assets, environments, and overall content.”
Around the room, the other team members nodded in agreement, fully aware of the challenge they faced.
“For months, our Sonaya Game Engineering team brainstormed nonstop about how to fit our ambitious game data into a mere 32MB cartridge,” Junpei said, pacing slightly as he recalled the long struggle. “We debated whether we should scale back the quality of our games, simplify environments, reduce texture fidelity, compress audio aggressively—anything to meet that size limit. But the more we tried to force it, the more it felt like we were aiming in the wrong direction. We weren’t solving the problem—we were shrinking our vision.”
Junpei paused and smiled. “Then, a few months ago, Kurata-san introduced me to someone who completely shifted my perspective. A guy who not only understood hardware, but also truly loved video games. That man was none other than Ken Kutaragi. He used to be the lead engineer in our CD and TV divisions. But because of his passion for gaming, he requested to join the Game Division. And when he walked into that office, he didn’t just bring expertise—he brought clarity.”
Ken Kutaragi sat quietly behind Junpei, smiling with a calm confidence. Junpei gestured toward him and continued, his voice gaining energy. “Ken-san said something that really stuck with me. He asked, ‘Why are we still using cartridges as our primary media? Why not CDs? Doesn’t Sonaya already have expertise and licensing for CD technology? Haven’t we mastered this already with our audio and video products?’”
Junpei chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. “And in that moment, I was honestly stunned. My mind just went blank. It was such a simple question, yet I had never even considered it seriously. I guess I’d been stuck in the old way of thinking—the stereotype that home consoles had to use cartridges. After all, every major game system before us followed that same model. It felt like an unwritten rule.”
He turned back to the team, voice now filled with conviction. “But rules are meant to be challenged. There’s always an alternative. That’s why, moving forward, the Amaterasu Project will shift toward becoming a CD-based home console. Yes, it might require extra development time and adjustments across several departments, but it’s the right move. Because with this decision, we’re no longer limiting our vision—we're empowering it. This change will allow us to deliver the kind of quality and scale we’ve dreamed about without compromise.”
Hikaru Kurata smiled and nodded, fully approving the shift. He understood just how much potential the Amaterasu project held—and now that the primary obstacle had been cleared, he had complete confidence in its future. With that reassurance, Junpei Hoshida continued his presentation.
“As we all know,” Junpei continued, “while CDs offer a great opportunity for expanding the size and scope of our games—and Sonaya already has strong experience with CD player manufacturing and optical disc technology—they also come with notable weaknesses when compared to cartridges.” He pointed to a chart on the screen. “First and foremost is durability. Cartridges are far more resilient. You can drop them, mishandle them, even store them poorly—and they’ll still function. CDs, on the other hand, are prone to scratches and data read errors, especially when handled by younger users.”
He paced slightly as he spoke, “Then there’s the matter of piracy. Cartridges are inherently more difficult to duplicate or reverse-engineer. CDs, however, are notoriously easy to copy once the right equipment is available. That makes protecting our intellectual property much harder. These are the industry’s usual concerns when it comes to discs, and we need to be fully aware of them going in.”
Hikaru Kurata nodded, arms folded. He understood these concerns well—they had been discussed in boardrooms countless times before. But he also believed that consumers were willing to accept trade-offs if the quality delivered was exceptional. “At the end of the day,” Kurata said calmly, “people will buy great products. If the experience is extraordinary, they won’t care if it comes on a disc or a cartridge. We can manage the risks—as long as we deliver the kind of quality that sets us apart. And in this case, the benefits of CDs far outweigh their downsides.”
Then Junpei continued his presentation for a while longer before the meeting finally wrapped up. Later that evening, Junpei, Ken, and Hikaru found themselves in a small, cozy lounge room adjacent to the office, sharing a casual dinner together. It was a rare moment of relaxation after months of long hours and intense pressure.
“Hahaha! We finally managed to build a proper 32-bit console—thanks to you, Ken-san,” Junpei said with a big grin, slurping up a mouthful of ramen with visible satisfaction.
Ken Kutaragi, seated across from him with a half-eaten sandwich in hand, chuckled and waved off the praise. “Heh, I just gave you the idea, Junpei-san. You and the team did all the real work. But honestly, I can’t wait to see the final product. Holding it in my hands, knowing what we pushed through—it’s going to be something special.”
Hikaru Kurata, watching the two engineers banter while sipping his drink, simply smiled. The air in the room was lighter than it had been in weeks. There was still work ahead, but for now, it finally felt like everything was coming together.
Hikaru Kurata chuckled and took a slow sip of his wine before glancing at Junpei with a half-smile. “Junpei, how confident are you in Amaterasu? Do you truly believe we can dominate the video game industry—and put ZAGE on the back foot?”
Junpei leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. “Honestly, it’s hard to say for sure. We’re absolutely delivering top-notch quality—both in the console and the games. Technically and creatively, we’re should be ahead in many areas. But... ZAGE is unpredictable, boss. We all know that. Zaboru Renkonan is a genius when it comes to wild, industry-shaking ideas. He’s the kind of person who’ll toss out everything conventional and build something revolutionary from scratch.”
He tapped his fingers on the table. “There’s a real chance—no matter how slim—that ZAGE will skip CDs entirely and jump straight into using DVDs. Can you imagine the storage space they’d have to play with? That would give them the ability to make even bigger, more immersive games than we can. If they do that, we could find ourselves playing catch-up again.”
Ken Kutaragi shook his head firmly. “Unlikely. DVDs are still far too expensive to manufacture at scale. And even if they do go that route, it would mean selling their consoles at a massive loss. I doubt ZAGE would be willing to bleed that much money just to be first to market with a new format. It’s not a smart financial move unless they’re planning to make it all back through software or licensing—and even then, it’s risky.”
Hikaru Kurata sighed, swirling the wine in his glass as he spoke. “DVDs, huh… Something about them still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. But I’m well aware of how much of a annoying and insane Zaboru is. If anyone can push a new media format to the edge, it’s him.” He glanced at Junpei. “Anyway, Junpei, because you’ve worked so hard on this project, I’m giving you the honor of naming it.”
Junpei chuckled, shaking his head modestly. “I’m honored, boss, but honestly, I’ve never been good at naming things. Besides, if I had to pick, I’d say Ken-san should be the one to name the console. After all, it was his insight that changed everything.”
Hikaru exhaled with a wry smile. “Fair enough. Ken, do you have something in mind for the name of our Amaterasu console?”
Ken Kutaragi grinned and nodded confidently. “Actually, I’ve had one in mind for a while now, Kurata-san. I’d call it... the Game Station.”
Hikaru repeated the name under his breath, letting it sink in. “Game Station... Simple. Clear. But it implies something meaningful—a place where people come to play, to connect, to experience something bigger than just a console. I like it.” He looked up. “Approved. From this moment, the Amaterasu project is officially named the Game Station.”
Turning serious again, he glanced between Junpei and Ken. “We’re still aiming for a release by the end of this year. Can the two of you—and your teams—make that happen even with the recent changes?”
Junpei nodded with determination. “We certainly can, Boss. We’re confident we can launch by December.”
Hikaru gave a satisfied grin. “Good. I’ve heard there’s a new Game of the Year event being organized. If all goes well, that stage could be where the world sees the Game Station for the very first time. Let’s make it count.”
Hikaru Kurata began planning to negotiate with ZEMITSU about the opportunity. He had heard a promising rumor about an upcoming FamiCom Game of the Year (GOTY) event, jointly hosted by ZEMITSU and ComputeX. If the rumor was true, this could be the perfect platform to unveil the new Game Station to the public for the first time. The exposure would be enormous—gamers, press, and industry leaders from around the world would be watching.
He made a mental note to contact ZEMITSU’s executive team first thing in the morning. If they were receptive, he would push to secure a prime slot for a live reveal, possibly even a hands-on demo he sure that they can be bought with money. With that thought fueling his optimism, Hikaru Kurata smiled to himself and stepped out of his office, feeling a renewed sense of momentum.
Back inside, Junpei and Ken remained focused, deep in discussion as they continued refining their roadmap. There was still work to be done—but now, it felt like the finish line was finally in sight.
To be continue
