From the results, this Creative Workshop initiative was a massive success.
Not only did concurrent player numbers surge, but the number of people developing an interest in game creation also rose to a whole new level.
Takayuki felt he could truly look forward to these talented individuals creating fun and innovative games.
After all, he had always hoped to play more interesting games himself.
But this kind of thing could develop slowly. Now that the groundwork for the Creative Workshop was finished, everything else could be left to the Battle.net team to manage. He didn't need to stay involved.
Right now, there was something else requiring his attention: the development of the next-generation game console.
While he was busy setting up the Battle.net platform, the new console had already entered its late development phase.
"Takayuki, this is our final version of the game console. We've already negotiated pricing with the chip manufacturer: 100 million chips over the next five years, at a reduced price of $270 per chip."
...
Standing next to Takayuki, who was holding the controller and testing the new console, Airi Hayasawa explained the specs of the new machine in detail.
At this point, all the key technologies required for a gaming console were in place. The remaining challenge was to push performance further, making it easier to develop games and improving the overall development experience.
Takayuki simply gave an absentminded "mm" at the quoted chip price, staying focused on testing the latest console.
This new console already boasted performance close to that of a PS4, marking yet another leap beyond their earlier systems.
This was thanks to their now highly experienced hardware development team.
These were top-tier talents, each with over ten years of experience developing game consoles.
Any one of them would be a prized asset at any other game company—especially at Surei Electronics, which was practically drooling over Gamestar Entertainment's hardware and software teams.
Surei had tried more than once to lure them away with generous offers.
Some were tempted—after all, the salary was enticing. But most stayed, unable to part with the environment they'd grown used to at Gamestar.
The company treated them well, and the benefits were excellent.
Why risk jumping ship to a new, unfamiliar environment just for a bit more money?
In fact, many of their spouses had advised them against leaving.
Their families were happy, work-life balance was great, and there was no culture of overtime. They could go home, spend time with their kids, and enjoy chatting about the day's work.
In Japan, Gamestar Entertainment was almost an anomaly.
Countless people were scrambling just to get a job there. Leaving? That would be insane.
Their spouses were adamant: no amount of extra pay was worth being unhappy at a new job.
It's not like Gamestar was on the verge of collapse—on the contrary, it was thriving.
Only a few people with the mindset of "better to be a big fish in a small pond" left to join smaller studios. As for how their lives turned out… nobody knew. None of them ever rose to prominence after leaving.
Takayuki's reaction to the new chip price was lukewarm, which made Airi frown a little.
"Takayuki, don't you think this price is a bit high? Just the chip costs $270. After full production, the total cost per unit could be nearly $400. That's way higher than anything we've released before."
Takayuki casually replied,
"That's not necessarily a bad thing. This time, I said the console must support higher-end visuals. If that means higher costs, so be it. Matsuhashi, at $270 per chip, can we hit a $399 retail price?"
At that moment, Matsuhashi was also in a remote video meeting with Takayuki.
She furrowed her brow, thinking it over. She didn't handle production directly, but with her experience, she could estimate the overall cost based on the chip price.
"At $399, we'll likely take a slight loss—maybe $10 to $20 per unit."
"Hmm. So we'll definitely lose money in the first year?"
"That's right. But chip prices will come down over time, and we can recoup those early losses in later years."
Takayuki waved it off.
"That's fine. A $10–20 loss per unit is no big deal—I can cover that. Let's set the price at $399."
Matsuhashi hesitated, then added,
"President, Surei Electronics also priced their console at $399 last time, and the reception wasn't great. Players really didn't like the high price. If we also go with $399, don't you think it might be a little too steep?"
Takayuki nodded.
"Yeah, it's a bit high. But we're still very different from Surei."
"I think we need to be cautious. Player feedback is important. If they strongly dislike the price, it could seriously hurt sales."
Takayuki said, unfazed,
"No need to worry—I've got this."
"Alright then…"
Seeing her concerns go unheeded, Matsuhashi didn't press further.
After all, Gamestar wasn't strapped for cash. Still, she couldn't help but worry that such a high price might alienate players.
Player support was Gamestar's lifeline. If the high price shut too many people out, it might not be worth it.
At that point, Airi Hayasawa spoke up.
"Takayuki, we could actually lower the price a bit—if we dropped compatibility with older games. That would save us around $50 per unit. It's a pretty good trade-off."
"Yeah, I agree," added Matsuhashi."At this point, very few players care about retro games. Most just want modern titles with flashy graphics. We probably don't need to support the old stuff anymore."