Monday 16 September 1998.
While Zaboru had just finished celebrating his son's first birthday and the exciting news of Ayumi's second pregnancy, halfway across the world, the Microsoft video game division was diving headfirst into the most intense and defining phase of its secret console initiative. Every corridor of the division buzzed with nervous energy and high-stakes urgency. The team was buried in a flurry of engineering drafts, prototype testing, and performance benchmarks—all revolving around one mission: the creation of a console that could rival or even surpass the industry's titans ZAGE.
The console, known internally as Project Green, had quietly grown into one of Microsoft's most ambitious undertakings. Inside a sleek development lab at the Redmond campus, surrounded by tech schematics and test units, Bill Gates stepped into a briefing room where a handful of lead engineers had gathered. With arms folded and his analytical gaze scanning the room, he asked pointedly, "So, how's the development of our console—Project Green—going?"
One of the lead hardware engineers, bleary-eyed from days of nearly uninterrupted work, responded with a mix of fatigue and pride. "We're still pushing forward steadily, boss. This console is leagues ahead in terms of raw performance—it's shaping up to be significantly more powerful than the ZEPS 3. But that's also part of the problem. It's so advanced that we're struggling to get our launch titles optimized in time. To be honest, we don't see them being ready by 1999. If everything lines up perfectly, maybe early 2000… but most likely mid-2000 is when we can ensure a solid launch window." The developer sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with a hint of exhaustion. "Or worse—it could even be 2001," he added with a resigned tone, clearly aware of the mounting pressure and unpredictability of software development at this scale. The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of that possibility sinking in among the team.
Bill Gates nodded slowly, processing the timeline. "2001, I see... that still lines up with our original projection. Worst-case scenario, sure, but still within expectations," he said calmly, though his mind was already racing ahead. Truthfully, Bill Gates had been thinking about this new console for years—ever since ZAGE's ZEPS 2 hit the market. That release had shaken Microsoft's confidence, sparking a desire within Gates to leap forward and create something truly exceptional. The arrival of ZEPS 3 had only intensified that fire, showing how quickly ZAGE could evolve and dominate. Gates knew then and there: Microsoft couldn't just compete—they had to surpass. His ambition now was not just to match ZAGE, but to leave them in the dust.
He was well aware that ZAGE's typical console cycle meant they wouldn't release a follow-up to ZEPS 3 until at least 2001 or 2002, giving Microsoft a critical window of opportunity. This knowledge gave him leverage and time—but only just enough. Determined to seize this narrow window, Gates went on a quiet but aggressive campaign. He began contracting and hiring numerous development studios, many of which had previously worked with ZAGE or Sonaya, aiming to poach talent and experience that could be redirected toward Microsoft's vision. These developers, some hesitant and others eager for new opportunity, were now contributing to the software pipeline for what Gates hoped would be a generation-defining platform.
The work was ongoing, messy, and filled with uncertainty—but Gates believed in the long game. He knew the stakes, and with every passing day, Project Green was transforming from a mere prototype into what could become Microsoft's most ambitious product yet.
Bill Gates leaned back in his chair, folding his hands thoughtfully. "Let's say we hire more manpower—will that help us in the long run?"
The head engineer responded with measured honesty. "It will definitely boost productivity over time, boss. But in the short term, onboarding and training new people will temporarily reduce our efficiency. It'll take a bit of adjustment before we see the full benefit."
Bill Gates nodded slowly. "Alright then. We'll bring in more staff, but we'll keep it balanced—not too excessive. I don't want the entire pipeline getting clogged just because we overextended."
His hardware engineer lead let out a sigh before speaking. "But boss, why are we even spreading the rumor that our console is almost complete?" he asked, clearly confused by the strategy.
Bill Gates chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a knowing grin. "Simple. It's all part of the game. We want the future players in the video game industry to think we're nearly ready. It creates pressure, urgency, and a sense of competition. Let them rush, make mistakes, try to catch up to a phantom deadline."
Indeed, the rumor that had even reached figures like Gaben—that Microsoft's new console would launch this year or next—was nothing more than a carefully crafted fabrication. It was a strategic move orchestrated by Gates himself. In reality, the actual target release for the "Project Green" console was planned for 2000, with 2001 being the worst-case fallback. This timeline gave them the space to refine their technology and craft a proper lineup of games and features without rushing to beat false expectations.
Gates had a very different vision from ZAGE and Sonaya. While those two giants were still largely focused on balanced global appeal, Bill Gates was setting his sights on something more focused—an ecosystem that catered heavily to Western audiences. He believed he understood the preferences, the tastes, and the gaming culture of the Western market better than his competitors. His plan wasn't just about building powerful hardware; it was about delivering a curated experience that would directly resonate with American and European gamers, giving Microsoft the edge it needed to break into the console war with force and also Gates never confident that Microsoft will ever beat ZAGE in Japan.
This console was fundamentally different from anything that had come before—it was, in many ways, closer to a personal computer than a traditional home console. As Bill Gates had envisioned from the beginning, one of the key goals of "Project Green" was to make the system inherently familiar and accessible to PC software developers. By doing so, Microsoft hoped to attract a wide range of developers from the thriving PC ecosystem who might otherwise avoid console development due to its historically restrictive architecture.
To support this vision, the console was designed with familiar development tools and architecture, lowering the barrier of entry for programmers and studios who already had experience creating software for Windows-based machines. This meant they could more easily port or develop new titles without having to reinvent their workflows.
Another major departure from conventional design was the removal of the traditional memory card system. Instead, Project Green would feature built-in internal storage—much like a PC's hard drive—which would allow users to save games, download content, and update software without relying on clunky external peripherals. This feature alone placed the console years ahead of its competitors in terms of consumer convenience and long-term functionality.
But Gates wasn't stopping there. He also wanted to push the boundaries of online multiplayer gaming. Although ZEPS 3 had introduced online capabilities, those features were still limited in scope and reliability. Microsoft's goal with Project Green was to take the current PC multiplayer experience—which included server-based matchmaking, downloadable updates, and friend lists—and integrate it directly into the console environment. Gates believed that this would create a connected gaming ecosystem that could redefine how players engaged with games, communities, and each other.
Every decision in Project Green's design was made with this forward-thinking philosophy in mind: bridging the gap between PC and console to carve out a new space in the gaming landscape that no one had dared to claim yet.
Bill Gates then leaned back in his chair, a subtle smile forming on his face. "Let them realize eventually that it was fake information. By then, we'll have already gained the advantage," he said, his voice calm but deliberate. He chuckled lightly and continued, "Anyway, just keep things on track. Make sure every part of the project remains aligned and running smoothly, alright? And if anything even remotely concerning comes up, report it to me immediately."
The lead hardware engineer gave a respectful nod, understanding the weight behind Gates's words.
Meanwhile, over at Apple, Steve Jobs sighed deeply as he read through the latest internal memo. The contents were troubling. He had just caught wind of a persistent rumor that their longtime rival in the operating system world—Microsoft—was not only entering the video game console space, but was allegedly already nearing completion of its hardware. The rumor was spreading quickly, gaining traction across tech circles and rattling nerves inside Apple.
Coincidentally, Apple was also in the early phases of developing its own video game console. They had recently entered into a strategic partnership with Philips, a move that raised some eyebrows in the industry. Despite Philips previously collaborating with ZAGE on DVD technology, there was still lingering tension. Philips harbored resentment after their own DVD player sales had been decimated by ZAGE's ZEPS 3 console, which doubled as a capable DVD player at a more affordable price. This time, however, Jan Timmer of Philips saw an opportunity to strike back—and working with Apple was a way to reclaim relevance in a rapidly shifting market.
For Steve Jobs, however, the endeavor proved far more complicated than he initially imagined. He had underestimated just how different the video game industry was from computers or OS . Developing a console wasn't simply about putting together sleek hardware; it required a deep understanding of gaming architecture, developer support, software pipelines, and player experience. There were countless moving parts he hadn't anticipated. As the days went by, Jobs found himself learning—slowly but surely—just how massive the undertaking would be. In his mind, this console project wasn't just a product, it was an investment into Apple's long-term future. He began to treat it as a foundational experiment, one that would teach Apple how to build a truly competitive console platform from the ground up. The timeline wasn't urgent. It was about sustainability, knowledge, and establishing a foothold in an industry Apple had never set foot in before.
What had once seemed like an exciting side project was quickly evolving into something much more significant—and Steve Jobs was beginning to realize the weight of the path Apple had chosen.
Steve Jobs leaned back in his chair, gazing thoughtfully out the window of his office. "This better be worth it," he mused internally. "Video games still feel a bit ridiculous and even pointless to me—but I can't ignore the fact that they generate real money and pull in an enormous number of customers. That's something we can't afford to overlook anymore."
His eyes narrowed as he thought ahead. "2001 would be an ideal year to release our console. It gives us enough breathing room to learn, adapt, and prepare properly. But to do that, we need to start developing our own games in parallel with the hardware. It's not just about making the box—we need the software, too. Maybe I should reach out to others in the industry for help."
He tapped his fingers against the armrest, then considered a bold idea. "What if I ask ZUSUGA for a collaboration? As far as I know, they've fully shifted focus toward handhelds after abandoning their failed home console years ago. But their handheld business seems to be doing quite well—they know their way around game development."
Jobs tilted his head slightly, warming up to the thought. "They might have the experience we lack. Partnering with them could give us a shortcut to understanding the game development landscape, at least on a foundational level. It wouldn't just be helpful—it could be the key to launching a halfway decent product."
For Steve, the project still felt like a side venture, but he was slowly coming to terms with the idea that it had the potential to evolve into something far more impactful. Working with ZUSUGA, a company that had weathered its own ups and downs in gaming, seemed like a smart move. Apple entering the console space wasn't just a reaction to Microsoft anymore—it was shaping into a strategic play.
And so, without quite realizing it, Apple had officially stepped into the looming console war. The early 2000s were shaping up to be a fascinating battleground in the gaming world completely different from Zaboru previous life
To be continued
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