Tokyo, Hudson Soft Headquarters.
The air in the President's office seemed even more stifling than the early September heat outside the window.
Kudo Hiroshi, the President of Hudson, sat upright.
Across from him was a specialist from Nintendo, dressed in a suit, his expression as standard as if measured with a ruler, devoid of any personal emotion.
The tea in front of the specialist was almost untouched.
"President Kudo, we are very grateful for Hudson's continued contributions to the Famicom platform."
The specialist's voice was flat and uninflected, as if he were reciting a report that had nothing to do with him.
"Recently, in order to optimize the overall production capacity of the cartridge production line…"
He paused, his gaze sweeping across Kudo Hiroshi's face without any warmth.
"…and to ensure that all third-party partners' products meet Nintendo's consistent high-quality requirements, we will implement stricter adjustments to batch management."
A premonition of ill omen swept through Kudo Hiroshi's heart.
This kind of officialese was usually the prelude to bad news.
"Specialist, please speak directly."
He tried to keep his tone calm.
The specialist nodded slightly, seemingly unsurprised by such directness.
"Regarding your company's key product, Adventure Island of Takahashi Meijin, originally scheduled for release in early September."
Here it comes.
Kudo Hiroshi's eyelid twitched.
"The initial batch of cartridges prepared for its release will be cut by twenty percent."
Twenty percent!
Kudo Hiroshi's knuckles quietly tightened under the table, his nails almost digging into his palms.
He took a deep breath, his face still maintaining a respectful expression towards his "benefactor," but his voice carried a hint of unconcealed difficulty.
"Specialist, you should be aware that Adventure Island of Takahashi Meijin is our major release for the second half of the year."
"We have invested enormous promotional resources."
"Takahashi Meijin himself has arranged dozens of offline events for this game, and player anticipation is very high."
He tried to argue logically.
"Cutting the initial stock by twenty percent is not just a numerical issue."
"This will severely impact the game's initial sales and reputation, and may even provoke negative emotions from players."
The Nintendo specialist's expression remained unchanged, as if Kudo Hiroshi was merely stating an insignificant trifle.
"This is an overall adjustment by Nintendo Headquarters, President Kudo."
"We hope Hudson can understand and cooperate with the company's overall strategy."
"'Understand'?"
Kudo Hiroshi almost let out a laugh, but he held it back.
"Specialist, could Nintendo please be more lenient? Even if it's only a ten percent reduction, things would be much better for us."
The specialist shook his head, his tone brooking no argument.
"This is the final decision, there is no room for negotiation."
"I believe that with Hudson's strength, he will certainly overcome this small difficulty."
Kudo Hiroshi's chest heaved violently for a moment, and he forced a stiff smile.
He stood up.
"I understand."
"Thank you, Specialist, for coming all the way to Hudson today to inform us."
He politely escorted the specialist to the door.
The office door clicked shut, cutting off outside view.
The humility on Kudo Hiroshi's face vanished instantly.
He spun around abruptly and slammed his fist hard on the expensive solid wood desk!
"Bang!"
The heavy thud echoed the suppressed rage in his heart.
His younger brother, Kudō Yūji, who had been standing silently in the corner, quickly walked over, his face equally ashen.
"Brother!"
"They at Nintendo only know how to cut our third-party share!"
Kudo Hiroshi roared, his voice hoarse with anger.
"Why didn't they cut Metroid, which they released in August?"
"Is that Gunpei Yokoi's work, is it more precious than ours?!"
Kudō Yūji spoke with concern.
"This reduction will severely impact the initial sales of Adventure Island."
"Once players' enthusiasm is dampened, it will be difficult to reignite it later."
Kudo Hiroshi took several heavy breaths, the anger in his eyes gradually replaced by a determined resolve.
"This setback has only strengthened my resolve."
He suddenly lifted his head, his gaze sharp.
"NEC must speed up now!"
"We cannot let Nintendo choke us like this forever!"
He recalled the secret discussions with NEC regarding high-performance graphics chips and potential new platform cooperation.
That path might be Hudson's only chance for survival.
Almost at the same time, at Capcom Headquarters.
President Kenzo Tsujimoto's brow was also furrowed.
Although Nintendo had not sent a specialist, the "concern" conveyed through other channels had already made him feel the pressure.
He knew the "crime" well.
Capcom, seeing the great success of Sega's 116 in terms of graphical performance, couldn't resist and secretly invested resources to establish and develop their own 16-bit arcade board—which later became CPS1.
This naturally diverted some of their energy from developing games for the FC platform.
The speed of new game production and the quality of some submitted projects failed to fully meet Nintendo's almost harsh "expectations."
There were no clear punitive measures.
But that invisible scrutiny, that veiled dissatisfaction, hung over Capcom like the Sword of Damocles.
Kenzo Tsujimoto rubbed his temples.
He had to start re-evaluating the priority of resource allocation for the FC platform.
How to balance arcade and home console businesses, ensuring profit growth while not offending Nintendo, the true major player.
It was truly a dilemma.
If they didn't make arcade games, how much money could they earn with only the few games Nintendo limited them to releasing each year?
He was secretly annoyed, but also helpless.
Nintendo's dominance was well-known within the industry.
Unlike Hudson's anger and Capcom's anxiety, some other third-party companies appeared much calmer.
Namco was one of them.
After being severely reprimanded by Nintendo earlier in the year over the pac-man incident, Namco had been exceptionally "obedient" in recent months.
They strictly followed Nintendo's rules and schedule, releasing FC games in an orderly fashion.
The atmosphere within the company was cautious, everything focused on stability, daring not to make any further extravagant moves.
Masaya Nakamura was well-versed in the art of forbearance.
Konami, on the other hand, chose another path—active cooperation and mass production.
As one of the first companies to witness Namco's suppression and quickly adjust its strategy, Konami developed multiple games for the FC platform, including the Famicom Disk System.
Among them, Akumajou Dracula, developed specifically for the Disk System, gained considerable praise and sales due to its gloomy Gothic style, excellent level design, and music.
Kozuki Kagemasa's calculations were very precise.
However, whether it was Namco's caution or Konami's diligent work, both faced a common helplessness.
The media spotlight was now almost entirely focused on Nintendo and Sega.
The aftermath of the fatal fury tournament had not yet subsided, and the news that Fuji Television would broadcast the national finals pushed this "war" to a new climax.
The excellent works meticulously crafted by these third-party manufacturers had their voices drowned out by the overwhelming promotional campaigns of the two giants.
Their influence was far less widespread than anticipated.
They could only maintain their popularity within the core player community, relying on slow word-of-mouth fermentation.
They were like farmers diligently toiling at the feet of giants, but the fruits of their labor struggled to gain market attention commensurate with their efforts.
Under the shadow of the empire, survival was not easy.