Ajal.
patreon
Chapter 156: Supporting Third Parties
🕑 Added 2025-10-21 11:25:16 +0000 UTCAfter meeting with the arcade faction, Takuya Nakayama dove back into his hectic schedule.
Days later, his assistant knocked on his office door. “Executive, here’s the preliminary sales feedback for *The Revenge of Shinobi* and *Ace Attorney*.”
Takuya looked up from a stack of papers, gesturing for her to continue.
“*The Revenge of Shinobi* met expectations, selling 80,000 units in its first week. Players love it, calling it a must-play MD action game. Many magazines hail it as MD’s best action title.” The assistant’s tone brimmed with pride—a predictable win showcasing Sega’s first-party prowess.
Takuya nodded calmly, his gaze shifting to the other report in her hands. She opened it, hesitating. “As for *Ace Attorney*, first-week sales were only 34,000 units.” Her voice dipped, as if the number carried a shameful weight. For a new Sega-published IP, it paled next to *The Revenge of Shinobi*’s glow, briefly thickening the office air.
But Takuya’s expression didn’t flicker. Unfazed by the modest figure, he asked, “What about player feedback and magazine reviews?”
Caught off guard by his focus, the assistant flipped to the report’s back, summarizing player letters and shop feedback. “The response is… unique. Buyers are raving. Many call it ‘the most distinctive game they’ve played.’ Some say, ‘The story’s tension rivals any mystery film.’ Others mention, ‘Staying up all night on the first case felt like being a real lawyer—better than any novel.’ One said, ‘Yelling ‘Objection!’ in court made me feel like a lawyer.’ Even female players noted, ‘Finally, a game beyond just fighting—hope Sega makes more like this.’ Our ‘Be Your Own Master Detective’ slogan sparked heated discussion, seen as spot-on.”
Reading the feedback, her initial concern gave way to curious excitement. Takuya’s lips curved into a faint smile. “That’s enough.” He took the report, his finger tracing the “34,000” figure, eyes free of disappointment. “The seed of word-of-mouth is planted, sprouting faster than I expected. We don’t need to rush its growth—just wait for it to become a forest.”
He instructed, “Keep tracking long-term feedback. Tell sales to hold off on discounts and maintain steady stock, especially ensuring restocks keep pace over the next two weeks.”
“Yes, sir.” The assistant nodded, her worries dispelled by his calm confidence.
Soon after, Masao Suzuki from marketing arrived to report. “Executive, the third-party coordination system you ordered is up and running,” he said, his serious demeanor reflecting his deep investment. “Most major third parties are cooperative. We’ve mapped their development plans for the next six months, and some coordination talks have already started.”
“Good,” Takuya affirmed.
Suzuki’s face showed a hint of concern. “But there’s a new issue. Several smaller third parties, fresh from PC platforms, are struggling with MD’s architecture. Their ports are slow, and they’re anxious. Multiple firms have requested technical support.”
Takuya expected this. A closed console platform was a steep hurdle for developers used to open PC environments. “That’s a good thing,” he said, surprising Suzuki. “Their urgency means they see our platform’s potential and want to ship products fast.”
Leaning forward, he met Suzuki’s eyes. “We can’t just watch them struggle—we must respond. Tell all development heads to assign skilled staff, by game genre, for one-on-one technical support to these third parties.”
Suzuki frowned. “Executive, our developers might resent being sent to do support, feeling exiled. Our current dev workload is heavy.”
A valid concern. Takuya’s fingers tapped the desk, then he looked up. “Announce to all dev team leads: starting today, we launch a Third-Party Technical Support Incentive Program.”
Suzuki blinked. “What?”
“Any team that successfully helps a third party complete a game without major bugs gets a 5-10% budget increase for their next project, by my executive authority. If the game sells over 100,000 units, their marketing budget also rises 5-10%.”
Suzuki’s eyes lit up. This wasn’t exile—it was a golden opportunity to gain reputation and resources. “I understand, Executive!” he said, bowing slightly in excitement. “I’ll relay this immediately. The teams will be eager to help our new partners.”
“Make sure third parties know Sega’s not just a rent-collecting landlord,” Takuya added. “We’re a platform where developers can create with confidence, partners who grow the pie together.”
After Suzuki left, the office fell quiet. Takuya’s thoughts drifted. The launch frenzy and New Year spending had been a dazzling fireworks show, but markets and wallets had limits. He foresaw a “sage time” of slower MD sales ahead.
He pulled out MD’s upcoming software release schedule. Beyond announced titles, there were clear gaps. Something had to be done to sustain market heat and confidence. He grabbed a pen, jotting on fresh paper:
Software diversity.
Continuous exposure.
Developer support.
Overseas expansion.
MD’s conquest was a long road. He dialed his assistant. “Schedule a meeting with marketing and development heads for next Monday, 3 PM, in the dev conference room. Topic: preparing ammunition for MD’s next offensive.”
