As time passed, the number of visitors at the trade fair steadily increased. Both tourists and international distributors began flooding into the venue.
Eric Davis's hired players had already started their work at 9 a.m. — each of them taking turns to play the two new games at the Galaxy Games booth.
At first, most players barely lasted a few minutes per session; the lucky ones might manage five. Only after they got familiar with the controls could they last around ten minutes — and true experts could stretch it to fifteen or even twenty minutes.
This difficulty balance was intentional.
If a game was too easy, arcade owners wouldn't make any money — after all, they bought machines to turn a profit, not to entertain players endlessly for a single coin.
But if it was too hard, players would quit. Losing every two or three minutes would frustrate them and drain their wallets, driving customers away.
So, the sweet spot was keeping the average playtime under ten minutes for casual players, and under twenty for skilled ones — long enough to be satisfying, but short enough for steady profits.
Eric Davis's strategy worked perfectly. The booth looked lively, with people constantly playing and others waiting in line. To onlookers, it seemed like the games were attracting massive attention — and humans everywhere share the instinct to gather around what others are watching.
The visitors in the game exhibition hall were already gaming enthusiasts, so the moment they saw a crowded booth, they naturally stopped to check it out — listening to the staff's explanations and watching others play.
Pac-Man, with its vibrant colored graphics, caught everyone's attention at first glance. After years of monochrome arcade games, players were amazed by its colorful visuals and lively design.
Even before judging the gameplay, the novelty alone made people eager to try it.
"Lin, I must congratulate you," said Phil Smith, smiling as he watched the crowd. "It seems Pac-Man is a real hit."
Phil had loved Pac-Man the moment he saw it — both its design and concept. He had even considered becoming its exclusive distributor. But as a seasoned businessman, he couldn't act on impulse.
To secure exclusive rights, he would have to invest around $20 million USD, and if the machines failed to sell, it would be a financial disaster. Buying in without market research would have been reckless — not the decision of a responsible businessman.
When he had first encountered Hong Kong Blocks, he'd also liked it immediately. But back then, he still took the time to conduct proper market research before flying to Hong Kong to secure distribution rights — a carefully calculated move, not a rash decision.
Phil knew that the early players at the booth were paid hires, but now the real visitors — genuine gamers — were lining up to play. Especially Pac-Man, which was drawing the biggest crowd.
From this alone, Phil could already tell: Pac-Man had the potential to capture the market's heart.
"Thank you, Smith."
Lin Baicheng's smile was genuine. Even though he knew from his past life that Pac-Man was destined to be a global phenomenon, he still felt anxious until he saw real-world reactions. Now, seeing people queue up to play was the first tangible proof that it would succeed again.
Phil took a careful tone. "Lin, I'd like to negotiate for the distribution rights — under the same terms as Hong Kong Blocks. What do you say?"
"Not yet," Lin said with a calm smile, waving his hand. "It's too early to decide. Let's wait until the three-day fair ends. Then we'll talk."
Of course, Lin was planning to raise the price — and he wanted to see what offers other distributors might bring. If a U.S. company offered significantly more, he wouldn't turn it down, even if Phil had been his earlier partner.
Phil nodded. "Fair enough. But Lin, I do hope that if someone offers the same conditions, you'll choose me. A long-term partnership benefits both of us."
Lin acknowledged with a nod. "You're right, Smith. I'll take that into account."
Phil smiled, understanding the game. It was better this way — by the end of the fair, the data would show whether Pac-Man's buzz was temporary or truly sustainable.
As the day went on, Galaxy Games' two titles — Hong Kong Blocks and Pac-Man — spread by word of mouth throughout the fair, drawing in more players and onlookers. The growing crowds began catching the attention of distributors from other countries as well.
Several agents approached to ask about pricing. Lin let Eric Davis handle those conversations — not only because Davis, as an American, could communicate more smoothly, but also because he had more experience negotiating sales terms.
Hong Kong Blocks retained its earlier export price of $1,500 USD per unit — neither raised nor lowered. Lin couldn't discount it without upsetting Taito Corporation or Phil Smith, who had invested heavily in its distribution.
For Pac-Man, the production cost was about 3,400 HKD per machine, roughly $800 USD. After consulting with Ryu Kazuki, Shigeru Miyamoto, and Eric Davis, they agreed to set a unified retail price of $1,888 USD per unit.
This price would apply globally, including in Hong Kong.
Their reasoning was simple — Hong Kong's domestic market was tiny compared to the international one. Offering a lower local price risked angering overseas distributors and undermining the brand's global image.
Lin agreed wholeheartedly. When Hong Kong Blocks launched, its lower Hong Kong price had been meant to open the market. But now, with Pac-Man, Galaxy Games had confidence and brand strength — there was no need for "discounts at home."
While many agents expressed interest, none placed immediate orders. They were all waiting and watching — wanting to see if the excitement around Galaxy Games' two titles would last beyond a few days, or if it would fade like a passing trend.