In July, Zaboru began assigning new tasks to his teams. First, he met with the Disney team. They had finished Beauty and the Beast, and the film was already playing in cinemas by mid-July. The reviews from general audiences were strongly positive, and the theater numbers looked healthy.
Still, there was a small wave of disappointment from gamers—because the movie was noticeably different from the game.
In this world, Beauty and the Beast wasn't originally a movie at all. ZAGE had created it first as a video game for ZEPS-2, and the story had been shaped around gameplay. In the game he'd added even more "game-like" elements to the narrative—combat progression, dramatic boss-like encounters, and even a harsher name tied to the Beast's curse: Bloody Roar.
So even though the marketing clearly stated that the movie version would be its own interpretation, some players still felt betrayed when they watched it. But for most people, the film was a hit—because its tone and structure were closer to what Zaboru remembered from his previous life, while this world's version leaned harder into action the way he wanted, with sharper, more intense combat scenes.
Zaboru had expected the backlash. At the same time, he could see the other side of it: there were plenty of new fans who loved the movie, who had never touched the ZEPS-2 game and judged it purely as a film.
So he made a simple public statement to calm the noise: "Sometimes movies are completely different from games."
Despite the backlash, Beauty and the Beast was still scoring well. The strong reviews—and the steady box office—proved that Disney still had the ability to make great movies when the direction was clear.
As the current 50% owner of Disney, Zaboru didn't let the momentum go to waste. He immediately assigned their next major task: Ice Age. He wanted the film ready by the end of 2000, and he made it clear he expected the same discipline, the same focus, and the same hunger that carried Beauty and the Beast to success.
But Disney's schedule was already packed. Aladdin was still on track for release this September, and Finding Nemo was being targeted for February 2000. Nemo was the risky one—because it was a full 3D project, and Disney was still relatively new to making 3D movies at that scale.
Even so, the workload didn't frighten Walt Disney—it energized him. Despite his age, he seemed more spirited and healthier than ever since Zaboru took a more hands-on, directive approach. It was as if Walt's will to live had multiplied, not from comfort, but from purpose.
By mid-July, three major ZAGE projects had finally reached the end of production after months of nonstop work: Team NIWA had finished Final Fantasy 7, Team NOVA had wrapped Crash Bandicoot: Cortex Strikes Back, and the USA side—Team Enigma—had completed WWF SmackDown. It wasn't just "done" in the casual sense either. They had survived the ugly part: late bug hunts, performance tuning, balance passes, audio clean-up, and controller feel adjustments
Zaboru visited each team as they hit the finish line. Not to give a speech—he knew they were exhausted—but to acknowledge what they had accomplished and to make sure the final builds were truly stable. The mood inside those teams was a strange mix of relief and hunger: relief because the mountain was finally behind them, and hunger because everyone could feel a new platform coming.
So for Team NIWA and Team NOVA, Zaboru deliberately chose not to throw another ZEPS-3 assignment at them right away just like he planned. Instead, he redirected their attention to the ZGBA. The developer kits weren't ready yet, but that didn't mean the teams had to sit and wait. Zaboru sat with them directly and started the preparation phase the hard way—studying the Z-Advance CPU and GPU behavior, learning the 320×240 screen rules, drafting handheld UI standards, designing memory budgets, and building early prototypes on PC that simulated the ZGBA's limitations. He pushed them to create "handheld-first" thinking: short play loops, fast boot, clean save behavior, battery-aware performance modes, and art that reads clearly on a smaller screen.
But for Team Enigma, Zaboru had a different plan. He gave them a new task immediately: Grand Theft Auto. Not the modern open-world style people would imagine years later in his previous life, but the classic top-down GTA concept from his previous life—only this time, he wanted it upgraded to match ZAGE's standards. Better graphics, cleaner animation, tighter driving feel, more responsive controls, smarter police behavior, and richer city detail without losing the fast, chaotic identity that made it addictive.
Zaboru made his expectations clear: the game had to feel bolder, smoother, and more alive than the PS1 version, while still running reliably on ZEPS-3. And he gave Team Enigma a deadline that sounded brutal on paper—but he believed they could hit it with the right structure: April 1999.
Zaboru also realized that the ZAGE teams had become insanely efficient. Because of that, he was already considering tightening next year's development timelines—not to punish anyone, but to keep the teams challenged and sharp. At the same time, he planned to expand their capacity: adding more people to the existing teams, and potentially forming new teams in both the Japan and USA branches next year, just as he had been mapping out.
There were also ZAGE intern projects already ongoing, and this year the company had started accepting more interns straight out of high school who were really talented or talented college students. Honestly, most of them were thrilled—because from day one, they could feel the difference. ZAGE's workflow was clean, modern, and strangely humane compared to the reputation many Japanese companies had as "black companies."
The interns were surprised by the treatment they received, because it wasn't what they expected at all. First of all, the office hours didn't feel like a prison sentence. Most days, you could arrive around 9 or 10 AM—unless you had an early meeting—and you could go home when your time was done. ZAGE's standard was simple: around nine hours in the office, which included eight hours of work and one hour of rest. No one demanded that you "look busy" just to impress a superior. If you finished your tasks early, you were expected to communicate it and then either help someone else or clock out.
Then there were the small things that, to an intern, felt like miracles. Inside the office, they could get lunch coupons for ZAGE Tavern. The menu was random depending on the day, but the food was genuinely decent, and for interns who were still counting every yen, it was like someone had lifted a weight off their shoulders. The intern pay was also surprisingly generous—enough that they could actually breathe, not just survive.
And ZAGE had something that shocked them even more: mandatory gym attendance. Every member of ZAGE was required to go to the gym at least twice a week, thirty minutes per session, and yes—it was monitored seriously. But it wasn't the cruel kind of "mandatory." If you had a medical condition, it was fine. There were professionals on-site who would adjust your routine, and nobody forced you to train like a bodybuilder. The goal was health, not humiliation. The gym itself was enormous, almost like another office building and it sat right in front of ZAGE Tower like a statement: if you want to build a long future, your body has to survive it.
The interns were also shocked by ZAGE's gaming rooms. Employees were allowed to play games when they didn't have work, when their tasks were already done, or when it was past their work time. And the craziest part? The gaming rooms existed on every floor. For the interns, it became one of the best ways to learn the culture quickly—playing with seniors, listening to them argue about controls, timing, UI, balance, or how a game "feels." It was fun, but it was also education disguised as relaxation.
But even with chill spaces like this, ZAGE still demanded responsibility. Deadlines mattered. Quality mattered. If someone didn't take the work seriously—if they kept missing tasks, ignored feedback, or acted lazy just because the company felt comfortable—ZAGE would punish it. Not with screaming, but with consequences: stricter evaluation, removal from projects, and in serious cases, dismissal. The message was clear from day one.
ZAGE would treat you like a human… but it also expected you to act like a professional.
Now, a ZAGE internship had become one of the most desired placements in all of Japan. But the requirements were still brutally high—because ZAGE demanded the best of the best. The selection process included IQ tests, coding and logic challenges, and practical evaluations designed to measure not just talent, but discipline and learning speed. As a result, high school and college students across the country started studying harder, training their skills earlier, and competing seriously—because getting into ZAGE wasn't just "an internship" anymore. It was a ticket into the future.
But now End of July are approaching as the ZAGE July games are ready to make waves
To be continue
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