Just as Takuya Nakayama was about to grasp the doorknob, Tom Kalinske suddenly called out, "One more thing. It's been eating at me for a while, and I need to get it off my chest."
"About that disaster in Las Vegas in January?" Takuya stopped, settled back into the leather armchair, and crossed his legs. "I noticed your report was full of F-bombs. Still mad about it?"
Tom slammed the pen he'd just picked up onto the desk, as if wanting to grind the faces of the CES organizers into the dirt.
"Mad? It was humiliation! The mighty Sega, the number one gaming company in North America, stuck in some godforsaken corner? The most remote corner of the exhibition hall! To find our booth, you had to walk through two blocks of the red-light district!"
Tom grew increasingly agitated, even standing up and gesturing wildly. "Do you know what that felt like? On one side, scantily clad women hawking adult videos, and on the other, us, trying to demonstrate Sonic and Pokémon with controllers. The media looked at us like we were boy scouts who'd wandered into a brothel. And the smaller companies... it rained that day, and one RPG company's machines were soaked into scrap. The organizers didn't even give them a tarp, just shrugged and said, 'That's your problem.'"
"In their eyes, video games are just cheap toys in a new disguise, even though the value we create is nearly on par with Hollywood," Takuya Nakayama added calmly, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm on his knee.
"Exactly! Those arrogant bastards," Tom said, unbuttoning his collar to relieve the tightness in his chest. "They think they can prop up the entire consumer electronics market with refrigerators, color TVs, and talking plastic dolls, completely ignoring the booming game industry. Even our press conference was scheduled after a seminar on 'New Vacuum Cleaner Noise Control'!"
"If that's the case, why are we still begging for scraps under their roof?"
Tom froze, his anger caught in his throat. "What do you mean?"
"If CES doesn't take us seriously, then let's not go," Takuya Nakayama stood up and walked to the massive floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the bustling street below. His voice was as casual as if he were discussing dinner plans. "Why can't we have our own exhibition? An exhibition dedicated solely to video games. No refrigerators, no washing machines, and definitely no porn tapes blocking the aisles."
Tom's eyes widened slowly, his breathing quickening. "Are you saying... we should break away?"
"Not just break away," Takuya Nakayama replied, turning to face him. His voice was quiet, but it carried an undeniable ambition. "We need to unite all the game companies—Nintendo, Sony, EA, Capcom. No matter how fiercely they compete normally, on this issue, our interests align. We need a voice of our own, a place where we can stand tall and speak with authority."
He leaned over the desk, bracing his hands on it as he locked eyes with Tom. "Contact them. Form our own organization—the Interactive Digital Software Association (IDSA). Then, find a better venue than that leaky tent in Las Vegas and throw a feast for gamers and developers. The ticket revenue will be ours, the media attention will be ours, and we'll set the rules ourselves."
Tom felt his blood rush to his head.
This wasn't merely about retaliating against CES's arrogance; it was about fundamentally reshaping the industry landscape. If this plan succeeded, Sega would no longer be just a participant, but one of the rule-makers.
"IDSA—" Tom muttered to himself, then slapped his thigh, a characteristic American smirk spreading across his face. "This idea is brilliant! I can't wait to see the faces of those CES organizers when they get the withdrawal notices. They'll look worse than if they'd swallowed a fly."
"In the establishment and operation of the IDSA, Sega doesn't need to be a dictator or the sole leader."
Takuya Nakayama settled back into the sofa, his fingers tapping lightly on the leather armrest. His voice was calm, yet carried an air of confident control over the entire situation. "We don't need absolute dominance within this association. Our goal is to expand the pie and build the stage. As for who sings on that stage, that's up to each individual's talent."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the Sega family photo poster on the wall—from the Mega Drive to the Game Pocket, every piece of hardware had achieved market dominance.
"Sega's current balance of software and hardware is so healthy it makes those Wall Street vampires green with envy. Our entire supply chain, from chips to distribution, is a closed loop. To put it boldly, as long as we compete under fair rules, we don't need to resort to political maneuvering to win. The association should focus on driving industry development, and we should secure our growth space through social means. That's what we should be focusing on."
Tom Kalinske nodded repeatedly, his red pen spinning rapidly between his fingers.
Sega's current scale indeed warranted this kind of "big brother" demeanor.
"And what about our own exhibition?" Tom slammed the pen onto the desk, leaning forward. "Where will it be held? When? I can't wait to crush those CES guys under our heel."
"Don't rush. Haste makes waste," Takuya Nakayama said with a smile, waving his hand. "If we're going to do it, we need to make it an industry benchmark, a carnival for gamers. My suggestion is May next year."
"Next year?" Tom frowned. "That long?"
"We need to create a time difference with CES. CES is usually held at the beginning of the year, while we'll be in the middle of the year. This gives manufacturers six months for their R&D sprint and helps us avoid the glare of CES. More importantly, we need time to prepare," Takuya Nakayama said, holding up three fingers. "Venue, security, media invitations—every detail must be flawless. We want every exhibitor and journalist to feel the moment they walk in: 'This is how the video game industry should be treated, not crammed into a leaky tent in Las Vegas, enduring the noise of vacuum cleaners next door.'"
Tom stroked his stubbled chin, deep in thought. "You're right. If we mess up the first time, no one will trust us again. What about the location?"
"Los Angeles. It's the entertainment capital, close to Hollywood, close to us, and close to the American branches of most US game manufacturers and other companies," Nakayama said, already confident. "We'll also establish the association's headquarters in the United States. After all, this is the world's largest single market. Having European and Japanese branches report to the US headquarters will streamline operations."
Please Support me by becoming my patreon member and get 30+ chapters.
[email protected]/Ajal69
change @ with a
Thank You to Those who joined my Patreon