Chapter Ninety-Seven: The Three Bigwigs of Japan

It was not often that Nintendo, Namco, and Sega all sat down together; after all, they were rivals, and it was best to keep kings from crossing paths.

Japan was swelling with confidence, though not yet at the height of its arrogance. Given the chance to see the toys made by their American counterparts, of course they would not refuse.

These so-called giants were, in truth, somewhat overblown in name. Compared with American game companies, they were only small fry. And yet, from this moment on, in less than ten years, they would utterly crush the American games industry.

William White’s appearance had completely altered the course of history. As for the other game companies, that was none of his concern. In any case, he would not be affected.

Americans might lack manufacturing muscle, but they were no less capable when it came to design and programming. This entire business had originally been invented by Americans in the first place; why they should teach the Japanese was beyond reason.

From the broader perspective, the United States was merely fattening a pig. What they had not expected was that the pig would grow so quickly that by the time they wanted to slaughter it, the thing had already swollen into an elephant. Fortunately, it had a mild temperament; otherwise, matters would truly have become difficult.

After the Japanese New Year had passed, they were already in Los Angeles. They wanted to learn more about this company and find out exactly what sort of operation it was.

The result, naturally, was nothing.

William White?

Of course they knew that name. If they wanted the answer, they should go to the movie theater.

Though they did not entirely understand American humor, it was still rather amusing. At the very least, they confirmed one thing: the foreigner who had invited them this time was extremely famous.

They also found the game company, though the graffiti on the outer wall struck them as having no real value as a clue.

Texas Blocks?

Very well, this cowboy really was brazen.

The Japanese came with a pilgrim’s mindset, while the American game companies were openly disdainful.

Several firms led by Atari displayed their contempt for the new company so plainly that anyone could see it.

As the hosts, a welcome banquet was still necessary. Whatever was said in the meeting, the guests had come from far away, and that courtesy had to be shown. Otherwise, it would simply be too rude.

Gathering those three together over drinks was nothing more than one man’s wicked little taste. In the years to come, those three would fight with each other to their hearts’ content, and a scene this harmonious was likely never to appear again.

William White understood only rudimentary Japanese, so this was not the right setting for him. Miiko Suzuki, from the Australian headquarters, took on the role of interpreter.

Being of mixed blood, the girl was pleasant enough to look at. She could not be called a true beauty, though, since her father was Japanese and her height was a clear disadvantage.

There were many families like hers in Darwin, so William White’s comic company had no difficulty finding suitable staff.

French cuisine suited the Japanese well. Like Japanese food, it consisted of tiny little portions and was really just a matter of affectation.

“Mr. White, what form of cooperation do you have in mind?” The head of Sega could not help asking. He dealt with Americans often enough that a simple conversation was no problem.

“It’s quite simple. You’ll see these games tomorrow. We accept OEM orders, and we can also sell production licenses,” William White said lightly after taking a sip of red wine.

Then he added, “As for pricing and the other details, today is not the right time. If you’re not interested in the games themselves, then I believe you’ll only be taking the OEM route.”

William White’s answer was exactly what they had expected. He had handled adapter cards the same way before. If they thought they could buy the whole thing out in one shot, they might as well wash up and go to bed; that was never going to happen.

Some people would say, Why not let them do all the OEM work? Why let the Japanese make money off it?

That was a narrow way of thinking. There was no easy profit to be had in the first place. Since Legend World had opened a window for them, did anyone really expect them to keep making trash games?

Money should be made by everyone. That was the foundation of a good partnership. The short-term profit might not look impressive, but over the long haul it would bring in a steady fortune. This deal would not lose money.

In any case, they would see everything tomorrow, and the three old men had no desire to ask further questions. Better to keep enjoying the meal.

French food paired with Texas red wine was indeed a bizarre combination. The proud French chef had practically wanted to strike, but since that was what the guests had asked for, he still had to do his job.

One had to admit that the foreign cook had professional pride; he would never ruin his own reputation. If a cook damaged his standing, he would eventually have no choice but to go work in fast food.

Selling one’s own wine while wrapping it in a patriotic label was shamelessness of a truly transcendent order.

No one was laughing about that joke anymore, because not long ago someone had tried it and the result had been terrible. Mainstream media had beaten that person senseless over the head.

A talk show had mocked some country bumpkin for eating French food with Texas red wine, and the host’s language had been vicious, full of satire and sneering ridicule.

After the show aired, the television station’s phone lines were completely jammed.

Fortunately, this was America. A little apology and self-mockery were enough, and after that life went on as before. If this had been Japan, he might have had to take his own life in apology. That was not a joke.

Many legislators quickly noticed the issue, and someone had already submitted a bill: restaurants operating in the United States would not be allowed to refuse to sell American-made wine, or they would face severe penalties.

Do not doubt it. That bill would absolutely pass. They had once even managed prohibition in their own history. All that was being asked now was fair competition, and there would be no shortage of people willing to support that.

Trying to have the Japanese judge the quality of red wine?

A handful of sommeliers might manage it. Ordinary people, forget it. They knew Bordeaux wine was good, but they could not tell why.

William White believed that the quality of fruit wine was, in fact, mostly nonsense. There was not much technical skill involved. The quality of the wine was determined entirely by the grapes. Even if there were slight differences, most people could not taste them anyway.

It was only a welcome banquet, with no real business on the table. Everyone ate and drank in relaxed spirits, and whether the game consoles would succeed was something they would know by tomorrow.

The guests left satisfied, and William White was a little tipsy himself. Fortunately, he was still clear-headed; otherwise, the Japanese girls would have been in trouble.

Life really was best kept separate from entertainment. If the whole company turned into a battlefield of passion, that would be far too undignified. He was not Japanese; he did not regard such antics as common sense no matter how one looked at them.

The country with the most office romances was unquestionably Japan. How many people did you ever see taking those matters to court?

In the United States, such things were actually less common. Yet lawsuits of that kind appeared all the time, and sometimes they could catch you completely off guard.

Never become too close to a female subordinate. It was very easy to get burned. You might simply pat her on the shoulder in encouragement, and she would think you had improper intentions.

Never underestimate how fragile American women can be. Many of them are wary of the opposite sex, and an exaggerated reaction is entirely normal.

Men?

They were no exception.

In America, being an executive meant having no friends. It was best to keep a certain chill in your manner and avoid appearing overly warm or enthusiastic.