Kobayashi Tetsu went to Kobe—alone, of course.
Yuji Naka and the others still had to keep working on Excitebike.
He would've loved to bring his little sister along, but unfortunately, high school girls had to attend school. Aside from competition weekends, he could only travel by himself.
How melancholy… Why don't I like college girls? College girls are perfectly fine, right? Even Azuma endorses them!
Kobayashi sighed inwardly as he boarded the train to Kobe with Hideo Kojima.
It was still winter break, but since he was only going to review a project, it didn't matter whether school was in session or not.
Kobe, a major port city with a bustling population and flourishing commerce, was home to many foreigners.
Kojima was not originally from Kobe—he was born in Tokyo and had lived there for years. But because of his father's job, the family moved constantly, and he now studied in Kobe.
Upon arrival, Kobayashi wasn't in a rush.
"Kobe is quite a nice place."
He glanced at his watch. "I'll find a place to stay first. Kojima-kun, I'll trouble you to contact your classmates and friends. If anything comes up, find me there."
Kobe had many Western-style buildings—rumor had it the mansion design in Resident Evil drew inspiration from here.
Of course, Kobayashi wouldn't live through a zombie outbreak. He simply found a decently sized Western-style hotel nearby and checked in.
Kobe was fun enough, but he wasn't in the mood for sightseeing. Instead, he flipped through the magazines he had bought.
Kadokawa Game Journal wasn't widely distributed here, but as a major port city, it wasn't hard to obtain.
The magazine praised the recent second esports tournament:
"…Just as the atmosphere cooled, last year's champion, 'Blue-Eyes White Dragon,' took the microphone, accurately explained the technique, and offered commentary. It seems that for a commentator, passion alone is not enough—professionalism is essential."
"The competition concluded successfully. Unfortunately, the audience did not get to witness Blue-Eyes White Dragon's gameplay."
Kobayashi smiled at the remark.
Of course—he paid to make the event good. A paid esports tournament wasn't going to flop.
He flipped the page.
There was an article submitted by Kohakawa under the pen name "Blue-Eyes White Dragon," offering analysis on games she knew and providing a simple guide for Yamngaard.
She was clearly adapting well to her new life, already contributing as a strategy writer.
In later generations, she would've been a typical game guide content creator—uploading walkthroughs the moment a game launched.
"Not bad," Kobayashi mused.
Maybe… he should sponsor Kadokawa Game Journal?
Although the magazine was published by Kadokawa Shoten, it wasn't valued internally yet and had very limited resources. Kadokawa Game Journal was quite poor.
It wasn't Famitsu, the version he was familiar with, but the magazine had praised him plenty. Kobayashi genuinely felt he ought to help them.
An authoritative, widely distributed game magazine could strongly influence game sales—many players relied on reviews.
So he added the idea to his agenda:
—Sponsor Kadokawa Game Journal.
—Acquire and finalize the monster AI program.
—Also…
After a moment's thought, he added another task:
—Expand Atlas Studio.
The four of them could no longer handle larger-scale projects. As console capabilities grew, more hands were necessary. If, after MS shipped, he planned to develop Sonic the Hedgehog, he'd need at least ten people.
Otherwise, poor Yuji Naka would die from overwork.
The next day, Kojima excitedly returned to say he had contacted his classmates, borrowed the university computer lab, filed the necessary reports, received approval, and could demonstrate their work anytime.
Kobayashi raised an eyebrow.
That was fast—and he'd even handled every procedural detail.
It seemed Kojima's future as a famous game creator didn't come from nowhere. The man truly knew how to get things done.
In the university computer lab, they met Kojima's programming club friends.
"Uh… I study economics," Kojima explained quietly. "But finance isn't that interesting, so I like hanging around here more."
An economics major joining a game company after graduation—Kojima's life was full of twists.
Kobayashi, however, didn't care about that.
The club members stared at him with thinly disguised excitement. Though all of them were university students, they were nervous like children.
Because this was no ordinary visitor.
Atlas Studio was red-hot right now.
Their collaborative anime projects and newly released toys were all extremely popular. Their games—without exception—were hits, some even approaching legendary status.
Even after Kobayashi stepped in, the group whispered:
"Is he really from Atlas…?"
"Hard to believe—"
Under their gazes, Kobayashi stepped forward.
"Yes, I'm from Atlas."
He turned to the computer.
"This is the program you're working on?"
He leaned over the keyboard and flipped through the source code.
Fortunately, he had been studying Kentaro's notes; otherwise, with his previous hobbyist-level knowledge, he would've understood none of it.
From the visible portions, he confirmed: it was indeed a program designed to improve monster AI, using numerous conditional branches to dictate enemy responses.
The idea was good—but the codebase was huge.
For home consoles, the storage simply could not accommodate such a large system.
"But if you only apply a small part of it to monsters…"
He shook his head. "Without real-world implementation, we can't be sure how effective it actually is. But fundamentally, it should be workable."
After forming his conclusion, he looked at Kojima and the club members.
"The concept is solid, but have you considered the issue of size? As it is, it's impossible to use in an actual game. It's essentially a hobbyist's toy."
"Too many conditional branches aren't necessarily ideal. Sometimes you should let the console handle the analysis."
With no whiteboard, he had to explain verbally.
"A console determines whether to output a color based on the color block's position. You can combine this with behavioral prediction. For instance, if a player keeps moving left and output colors remain on the left, you can infer the player intends to move left—and have monsters favor left-side attacks."
"To describe that logic, you only need to check color block positions—not dozens of branch conditions."
He was merely saying it; if he had to implement it himself right now, he couldn't.
But that didn't stop the club members from falling into deep thought.
Each time he spoke, someone lowered their head, pondering deeply.
Right… if you're coding, you should adapt your logic to the platform…
When the atmosphere felt right, Kobayashi said:
"I think your program is viable, but not complete. If possible, I'd like you to continue refining it. After that, Atlas will purchase the program. You're a club—meaning you have an advisor, right? Find someone with authority. For now, let's draft a contract."
He needed it in writing so they wouldn't sell the program to someone else.
As for price, he casually quoted:
"Five hundred thousand yen."
His original thought was one million, but he went low first—negotiation, after all.
He waited for them to counteroffer… but instead, the club members looked at one another, faces glowing with excitement.
"Really?"
"Deal!"
"Kojima-kun, go get the club advisor!"
"This is amazing…"
Kobayashi: ?
A counteroffer—counteroffer, please!
Five hundred thousand yen wasn't even a month's salary for Atlas. And yet he had just bought the entire program—
And they even promised future improvements.
This deal was absurdly good.
Ten minutes later, Kojima brought the faculty advisor. After listening to the students explain, the elderly instructor was even more shocked than they were.
"So you're telling me… something these boys made casually in their club can be sold?"
Kobayashi nodded sincerely.
The advisor immediately seized his hands.
"Then what are we waiting for? As their advisor, if they're willing to sell it, I certainly won't object!"
It was an achievement for him too.
Kobayashi shook his hands firmly.
They had reached an agreement.
He would take a floppy disk containing the completed portion of the code—maybe it would come in handy. The unfinished part would continue being developed by Kojima and his friends.
At least until 1986, their work would remain relevant.
Because Kojima would graduate in 1986, and in 1987, when he created the MSX version of Metal Gear, he would use this very program.
In other words—
For a mere five hundred thousand yen, Kobayashi had purchased a piece of code with limitless potential.
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