Old Zhang nodded and jotted the task down in his notebook. "We're already exploring LAN technology. We've researched the IPX protocol, which can connect multiple computers. However, achieving a wide-area network MMO like Dungeons & Dragons Online—with its data synchronization and anti-cheat measures—is a massive undertaking. We can start with simple LAN multiplayer to gain experience."
With the serious business concluded, the tension in the conference room dissipated.
The Nine-Tattooed Dragon stood up and straightened the hem of his short-sleeved shirt.
"Alright, we've been grinding all morning. My treat. Let's go downstairs and eat something good."
The core team from Mercury Technology didn't stand on ceremony. They followed the Nine-Tattooed Dragon downstairs and headed straight for a nearby seafood stall they frequented.
In the private room, as the food and drinks flowed, the conversation naturally shifted to company gossip.
"Speaking of making money, we owe Director Chen a toast," Old Zhang said, raising his beer glass toward the man in black-rimmed glasses sitting in the corner.
This man was the copyright supervisor sent by Takuya Nakayama, a native Taiwanese.
Initially, Fu Zhan and the others had been quite critical of this parachuted supervisor, fearing he would use his authority to hold up development.
After a few months of working together, things had taken an unexpected turn.
Director Chen was not only a strict gatekeeper for copyright reviews, helping them avoid several major pitfalls, but he had also started a side hustle.
"Director Chen, I'll drink this one. You can just sip yours," Fu Zhan said, raising his glass.
When they were making the Traditional Chinese version of Investiture of the Gods: The Legend of Yang Jian, Director Chen had volunteered to lead the effort. Leveraging his connections in the Taiwanese gaming industry and coordinating with Nine-Tattooed Dragon's distribution channels, he had successfully pushed Mercury Technology's product into the Taiwanese market.
For years, the home console market in Taiwan had been dominated by Xiao Tian Cai's agency, which distributed the Famicom and Super Famicom. Nintendo's consoles and games were expensive.
Mercury Technology, building on Sega's foundation and featuring a mythological theme that resonated perfectly with Chinese culture, made a huge splash the moment it hit the market.
"You're too polite, President Fu. We're all in the same boat," Director Chen said, adjusting his glasses and taking a sip from his teacup. "Xiao Tian Cai is struggling right now. Our Traditional Chinese version has a faster distribution speed, a price advantage, and top-notch game quality. Taiwanese players have a natural affinity for themes like the Three Kingdoms and Investiture of the Gods. The systems in The Legend of Yang Jian are also very solid. Once the word got out, sales naturally took off."
Director Chen set down his teacup and picked up a piece of fish with his chopsticks. "Xiao Tian Cai's agency model is too rigid. Their supply chain from Japan is slow and costly. We, on the other hand, ship directly from Fuzhou through Brother Kowloon's channels, keeping logistics costs to a minimum. You saw last month's sales report—we've already carved out a significant chunk of their market share. Their CEO is currently scrambling to get new stock from Japan to save their skin."
Director Chen pushed up his glasses, a hint of smugness in his voice. "Xiao Tian Cai has always taken a high-end approach in Taiwan, coasting on Nintendo's brand name. They control their distributors with an iron fist and keep the lion's share of the profits for themselves. We're doing things differently. I've discussed it with Brother Kowloon, and we're handing the profits over to the distributors. As long as they prioritize promoting The Legend of Yang Jian, our rebate is three percentage points higher than Xiao Tian Cai's."
Director Chen tapped his finger on the table. "Great rewards bring out the boldest men. Which game store owner doesn't want to make more money? The moment a customer walks in, they're pushing The Legend of Yang Jian like crazy. Combine that with the fact that our game is actually fun, and the word-of-mouth spread like wildfire. By the time Xiao Tian Cai even realized what was happening, our stock had already flooded every game store, big and small."
Everyone burst into laughter. This kind of victory, won through a real, cutthroat battle in the market, was the ultimate morale booster.
"They want new stock? Then we'll give them The Legend of Nezha," Nine-Tattooed Dragon said, clamping a piece of oyster. "Once Nezha is pressed, I'll personally lead the team to distribute the Traditional Chinese version. By the end of this year, we're going to crush Xiao Tian Cai into the dirt."
Fu Zhan set down his wine glass, looking at his spirited crew.
"The Legend of Nezha's action system has been polished for a long time, and it's even more exhilarating than The Legend of Yang Jian," Fu Zhan said. "With the first game as a foundation, our entry into the Taiwan market will be even smoother. Director Chen, I'll need you to put extra effort into the promotion over there. The reviews in gaming magazines and the rebates for distributors—we'll follow the usual rules and definitely not be stingy."
"Leave it to me," Director Chen agreed instantly. "As long as the game quality is top-notch, I'll handle the rest."
The meal ended on a high, lively note.
San Francisco. Computer Gaming World Editorial Department.
A fax machine spat out a sheet of paper, still smelling of fresh ink.
Paul reached out and tore the paper from the fax machine. His eyes lingered on it for two seconds before he handed it to David, who was sitting across the desk.
"A tip from Silicon Valley," Paul said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "3DO is preparing to lay off its Hardware Department."
David took the fax.
The few lines of text laid Trip Hawkins' hand bare.
The Internet and PC gaming market were experiencing an unprecedented spring. Major hardware manufacturers were constantly innovating, and sales of Pentium processors and graphics accelerator cards were soaring.
The software side was equally vibrant. Silicon Valley Online's Dungeons & Dragons Online had whetted players' appetites to the max, and titles from Westwood and Blizzard were slated for release by the end of the year.
Yet at this critical juncture, 3DO, which had once loudly proclaimed its vision for next-gen gaming, could no longer hold on.
"As expected," David said, pressing the fax under his keyboard. "In the first quarter of this year, GoldStar—now LG in South Korea—already shut down its 3DO production lines. When your primary manufacturer runs away, it's a fatal signal. In the hardware business, having no one to manufacture for you is like being cut off from all supplies."
"The second quarter was even worse," Paul added. "Every third-party developer except Matsushita has halted new projects. Even with the hardware price slashed to under $300, retailers still can't clear their stock. Who's going to buy a console with no new games when they can spend that $300 on a 3dfx graphics accelerator card and play games with far better visuals on a PC? The center of gravity in electronic entertainment is shifting, and Hawkins has failed to keep pace."
David picked up a pen and circled September on the desk calendar.
"They're planning to sell off the exclusive rights to the M2's next-generation technology," David said, staring at the circle. "The primary buyer is Matsushita. Samsung is also negotiating to acquire other assets from their hardware department. Japanese and Korean companies have always been interested in this kind of ready-made technical patent."
"Trip Hawkins is cutting off his own arm to survive," Paul said, shaking his head. "He's pivoting completely to become a software company. This guy left EA years ago to build hardware, and after all this time and countless dollars spent, he's right back where he started. He's paid a fortune just to learn a lesson."
David recalled the E3 exhibition from a few months ago.
Hawkins had stood on stage, talking at length about Meridian 59's monthly subscription model and its online social features.