In early November, the atmosphere of anxiety at Sega's Third Development Department, far from dissipating with the completion of the demo, intensified, as if new fuel had been added.
The office was no longer just the domain of keyboard clicks.
Instead, there were rising and increasingly loud arguments, mixed with the countless repetitive punching and kicking sound effects and character special move shouts emanating from the arcade cabinets.
"No! Terry's Flame Punch recovery frames must be increased by two more frames! Otherwise, Andy's Flying Fist won't be able to effectively suppress him!"
Team Leader Shimizu forcefully poked at the data on the screen, the veins on his neck slightly bulging, arguing vehemently with Suzuki Yu, who also had a deep frown on his face.
Suzuki Yu slammed the table, making the empty cola cans next to him buzz.
"Nonsense! Add more recovery frames? How will Terry recover against Joe's Hurricane Upper? He'll be completely passive!"
He pointed to another draft paper filled with dense character performance comparison charts.
"What we need to do is balance, not weaken a character's core gameplay!"
"But we can't let Andy become a target that can only throw projectiles!"
"Is Joe's jumping attack hitbox too large? The recent test clearly showed a problem!"
"This issue has a low priority; let's completely fix Geese's counter throw first!"
Similar arguments almost occurred daily in different corners of the office. Centered around Terry, Andy, and Joe, the three characters currently taking shape, discussions about frames, distance, and hitboxes were precise down to the pixel level. Some insisted that Andy's Rising Bullet had too few invincible frames to be a reliable anti-air move; others countered that Terry's Power Dunk's attack hitbox extended too far, easily creating unfair pressure. Everyone, based on their understanding of the characters and countless hours of testing, tried to defend or change a specific parameter.
The core developers gathered around the arcade machine or stared at screens full of parameters, arguing heatedly over a move's hitbox, damage value, startup speed, recovery frames, and even a character's jump height and airtime. The atmosphere was as lively as a bustling market, yet filled with the unique persistence and dedication of technical professionals. They knew that every minor adjustment could have a ripple effect on a character's role and a player's strategy.
Takuya Nakayama's presence was more often seen on the periphery of these arguments.
He no longer personally sat at the console to demonstrate or directly offer specific numerical modification suggestions as before. He mostly listened and observed. Occasionally, when the argument was most intense and both sides were at a stalemate, he would casually throw out one or two questions.
"If this parameter is adjusted, what ripple effects will it have on the character's other moves and their matchups against other characters?"
"The 'balance' we are pursuing, does it mean all characters have completely identical performance, or do they have their own strengths and weaknesses that counter each other?"
"Have we considered introducing some other mechanisms to adjust this feeling of imbalance, rather than simply modifying the moves themselves?"
His questions often helped both sides of the argument calm down and re-examine the problem from a broader perspective, thinking about what their ultimate goal for the adjustments was. Team Leader Shimizu, Suzuki Yu, and others also grew rapidly through this continuous collision and reflection. They began to not only be satisfied with implementing features but actively explore the deeper logic of fighting game design, learning how to grasp the subtle art of balance, and understanding the "strategic depth" and "player choice" that Takuya had emphasized before.
This was exactly what Takuya wanted to see. He needed generals who could stand on their own, not a group of sappers who only executed orders. Sega's future could not rely solely on him.
After confidently entrusting the specific balance adjustments and the subsequent character import work for Andy Bogard and Joe to Shimizu and Suzuki Yu, Takuya's own work focus quietly shifted.
On his desk, in addition to documents related to fatal fury, there was a locked hardcover notebook. During breaks in project meetings, or when working late alone at night, he would take out this notebook and sketch some strange diagrams with a pencil. They were not game characters, nor were they scene settings. They looked more like… combination structures of electronic components, with a toy-like outline, simple lines, but intricate structures.
He had not shown anyone what was in this notebook yet. He wanted to plant a seed that would open up new horizons for Sega, beyond the console and arcade battlefields. It was also an inconspicuous foreshadowing for a grander plan in the future.
Mid-November, North America.
Thanksgiving was approaching, and the air was already filled with the excitement and anticipation of the coming shopping season. The atmosphere at North American Nintendo (NOA) headquarters in Redmond was even more fervent.
In the president's office, Minoru Arakawa held the phone receiver, his face showing uncontainable excitement. The other end of the phone line was Nintendo's headquarters in Kyoto, Japan, his father-in-law, Hiroshi Yamauchi.
"Yes, Father! The NES's sales momentum is very strong!"
Minoru Arakawa's voice was brimming with confidence.
"Based on current channel feedback and sales data, we are very confident that we will break the one million unit sales mark before the end of the year!"
One million units, this number was nothing short of a miracle in the North American market, which had experienced the Atari crash. It declared that Nintendo, or rather, North American Nintendo under Minoru Arakawa's leadership, had successfully brought video games back into American living rooms. With several strong launch titles like Super Mario Bros., the NES almost monopolized the discourse in the North American home console market.
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by Hiroshi Yamauchi's deep and authoritative voice.
"Very good. What about Sega? What are they doing in North America?"
Hiroshi Yamauchi's voice didn't reveal much emotion, but the question itself represented his fundamental vigilance towards this old rival.
Minoru Arakawa was clearly well-prepared.
"Sega? Besides their tetris handheld still selling, the Master System's shipments are still very limited, and its market share is almost negligible." His tone was relaxed, with a hint of subtle disdain. The Master System was indeed technically stronger than the NES, but Minoru Arakawa knew very well that console competition ultimately came down to content and ecosystem. Sega lacked sufficient third-party support, and its game lineup was thin; their marketing was also far less pervasive than Nintendo's.
"According to the information we have, they currently pose no substantial threat in the console market in North America."
"Hmm." Hiroshi Yamauchi responded, seemingly unsurprised by this answer.
"In that case, there's no need to waste too much effort on them at this stage." Hiroshi Yamauchi's voice was decisive and unyielding.
"Nintendo's focus in North America is to continue consolidating the user base established by the NES, expand our game library, and defend this core stronghold." His words revealed a strategic conservatism and pragmatism, "As long as we don't make mistakes ourselves, Sega's minor actions in Japan will not cause any waves."
The "minor actions" he referred to were clearly the promotional campaigns fatal fury was conducting in Japanese gaming and anime magazines.
In Hiroshi Yamauchi's view, that was merely Sega's struggle in the domestic market, still far from threatening Nintendo's dominant position in the vast North American market.