Saturday, December 21, 1996.
Exactly one week had passed since the release of Final Fantasy VII and Mario Kart 64.
Sega Headquarters Building, Ota Ward, Tokyo.
The door to the Executive Office was thrown open.
Oguchi Hisao strode in, clutching several pages of faxed paper, its edges crumpled from his grip.
Takuya Nakayama sat behind his desk, holding a cup of freshly brewed black coffee.
He glanced up at Oguchi Hisao.
"Managing Director, the numbers are in." Oguchi slammed the faxed report onto the desk, pointing at the figures. "Global first-week sales."
Takuya Nakayama set down his coffee and picked up the report.
"Square just called. Hironobu Sakaguchi was crying on the phone," Oguchi said, pulling out a chair and sitting down, his chest heaving. "Three million. They just passed three million copies!"
Takuya Nakayama stared at the numbers on the report.
North American market: 1.18 million. Japan: 1.51 million. Europe and other regions: 320,000.
This was just the first week.
"The pressing plants everywhere are running at full capacity," Oguchi Hisao said, rubbing his hands together. "The distributors are crowding our sales department every day, demanding stock. They're even offering to pay the shipping costs themselves, as long as we can get the goods to them. The cost of four CDs is extremely high, but Square is making a killing this time. Our Jupiter console sales have also seen a massive surge."
Takuya Nakayama pushed the report aside.
"As expected." He leaned back in his chair. "This is a game that defies reason. It has raised the players' threshold for graphics to a height they never even imagined. After experiencing the shock of Midgar, they can't go back to playing those crude polygonal blocks."
Oguchi Hisao nodded.
"What about Nintendo?" Takuya Nakayama asked.
Oguchi Hisao flipped to the next page of the report, a smile he couldn't suppress playing on his lips.
"Mario Kart 64, global first-week sales—" Oguchi Hisao paused, emphasizing his words, "less than 200,000 copies."
Takuya Nakayama raised an eyebrow.
"It's a difference of over ten times," Oguchi Hisao let out a long sigh. "Yamauchi Hiroshi has taken a huge fall this time. They set up so many demo machines and organized so many offline experiences, only for it all to benefit Final Fantasy VII. Players took all the money they would have spent on the N64 and used it to buy the Jupiter and FF7 instead."
"It's not that Mario Kart 64 isn't fun," Takuya Nakayama said, tapping his finger on the desk. "It's about time. Players' time is limited."
He stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the gloomy winter sky.
"Party games need friends. But right now, all our friends are shut in their rooms playing Final Fantasy VII. If you can't even get four people together, the joy of Mario Kart 64 is completely lost. The living-room socializing Nintendo is so proud of has been lured away by Square's ultimate single-player immersive experience."
Oguchi Hisao rose to his feet.
"Managing Director, should we issue a press release? We could leak these two sets of data to knock Nintendo down a peg."
"No need," Nakayama waved him off. "Just leak it quietly through a channel. The media is more anxious than we are. Tomorrow's major gaming magazines will all have this on their front pages. We don't need to get our hands dirty. Let Square enjoy their glory. We just need to ensure a steady supply and ramp up Jupiter's production capacity."
Kyoto, Nintendo Headquarters Building.
President's Office.
The air was so stifling it felt suffocating.
The heater was blasting, yet Shigeru Miyamoto felt a chill run down his spine.
Yamauchi Hiroshi sat behind his massive desk, a data report in hand.
Less than 200,000.
That was the first-week sales figure for Mario Kart 64.
For a flagship title entrusted with the monumental task of taking on Sega and Square, this number was a disaster.
Miyamoto stood before the desk, his arms hanging limply at his sides.
"They did it," Miyamoto said, his voice raspy. "I bought a copy of Final Fantasy VII. I spent the entire weekend playing it."
Yamauchi looked up.
"The graphics, the presentation, the music," Miyamoto said, ticking points off on his fingers. "They've brought cinematic storytelling into gaming. Sega's underlying technology has pushed the capacity of optical discs to their absolute limit. The players are simply blown away by the visual impact."
"By comparison, our cartridges—"
Miyamoto trailed off.
The N64 had stuck with cartridges to eliminate load times and ensure smooth action gameplay. But against the massive storage of four CDs, the pitiful space on a cartridge couldn't even hold a single high-resolution pre-rendered CG or a fraction of the audio data.
"After buying Mario Kart 64, most people just let it gather dust," Shigeru Miyamoto added. "Many players found that once they got it home, they couldn't even find anyone to play with. Everyone was playing Final Fantasy VII. A single-player Mario Kart just can't keep people's attention."
Yamauchi Hiroshi tossed the report onto the desk.
"Square," Yamauchi snorted. "That madman Hironobu Sakaguchi actually won the gamble."
He stood up and walked to the window.
"Sega didn't play a card this time. They left the stage to Square." Yamauchi clasped his hands behind his back. "Takuya Nakayama played a ruthless hand."
Miyamoto watched Yamauchi's back.
"President, what's our next move?"
"We haven't lost yet. This game is the kind that sells steadily over time." Yamauchi turned around. "Besides, Christmas and New Year's are coming. Players can't stay glued to their Jupiter consoles forever. You need to ramp up the marketing for the holiday season."
"Also, notify the Information Development Department to accelerate all project schedules. The development priority for The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time is now raised to the highest level. If they want cinematic-level storytelling, we'll give them a true 3D world. I'm counting on you for this, Miyamoto-kun."
Shigeru Miyamoto's heart skipped a beat, and he immediately bowed his head in agreement.
This was the project he had poured his entire soul into.
"One more thing," Yamauchi Hiroshi said, his gaze fixed on Miyamoto. "Contact our second-party developers. The N64 needs more exclusive games. Whatever the cost, bring over the developers who are still on the fence. Sega has Square; we can't just rely on ourselves."
December 24th, Christmas Eve.
Santa Monica, Los Angeles.
Cheap, colorful string lights were draped across Mike's garage-turned-entertainment room, and a plastic Christmas tree stood in the corner.
For the past ten days, the neighborhood's young people had all vanished.
Now, the forced socializing of the holidays had dragged them out of the steel jungle of Midgar.
Marcus pushed open the door, carrying two dozen cans of Budweiser.
David followed behind, holding two large pizza boxes. His hair was so greasy it was matting, and his chin was covered in stubble.
"Put them on the table," Mike said, pointing to the coffee table.
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