"Mr. Takayuki, you’re truly amazing. How on earth did you pull this off?"
Ono Sano was already in his sixties. At his age, there were very few people left whom he genuinely admired.
Before Takayuki invited him, Ono Sano had only thought of Takayuki as a wealthy man who happened to be exceptionally good at making gas.
But after working with him, Ono Sano gradually realized that Takayuki possessed so very special qualities.
In the field of cultural creation, Takayuki had his own unique understanding.
And it wasn’t limited to video gas.
Ani, film, gas, visual art, music—
Takayuki’s taste was excellent across the board.
When the trouble arose with three directors each insisting on their own vision, Takayuki was also able to resolve the issue in his own way. In just two days, he had actually secured full control over the Olympic opening and closing ceremonies.
Ono Sano couldn’t possibly know what had happened behind the scenes, but that didn’t stop his imagination from running wild.
In his mind, Takayuki must have used all kinds of ingenious tactics—appealing to emotion, persuading with reason, and finally clashing head-on in fierce confrontation. It must have been an intense and dramatic struggle.
Ono Sano could practically envision turning such a story into a brilliant movie.
Unfortunately, most of his imagined scenes were completely wrong.
Takayuki patted Ono Sano on the shoulder and said, "These are all small matters. From start to finish, all I wanted was a truly spectacular Olympic opening and closing ceremony. Everything else is secondary. My task is done now—I’ve created a sufficiently free environnt for you. What cos next is your chance to show your real strength. I hope you won’t disappoint ."
"Mr. Takayuki, you can rest assured," Ono Sano replied confidently. "I’m fully prepared to go all out now!"
With full control of the opening and closing ceremonies now in his hands, he could make all the decisions himself.
That said, according to the original plan, video gas, ani, and Japanese traditional culture were ant to be promoted in balance. Video gas couldn’t completely dominate the Olympic opening ceremony—that would be too deliberate.
But for Ono Sano, this wasn’t a problem at all. He already had at least ten different plans for the opening ceremony in mind, just waiting to be put into practice.
There was less than a year left. It was tight, but still within a manageable range.
At this mont, Ono Sano felt both ambitious and deeply respectful toward the man more than twenty years his junior.
He no longer carried any sense of seniority. With Takayuki, he was more than willing to interact as equals—as friends.
After resolving this matter, Takayuki subtly indicated to the IOC that the Facebook recomndation issue could now be reversed.
"The Facebook equipnt malfunction and server issues should be resolved in about two hours. After that, Olympic-related information will be automatically pushed again."
That was how Takayuki put it. Those who understood, understood.
Then Takayuki suddenly rembered that the video ga developers’ competition was about to begin. He needed to prepare to head to London, where he would serve as a judge.
At the sa ti, before the competition officially started, he still needed to figure out how to address the decline in the average quality of indie gas.
Simply offering large rewards wasn’t enough to truly improve ga quality.
He needed better thods.
Fortunately, Takayuki already had so roughly feasible ideas.
One of them was to add certain constraints to the ga developnt competition.
The competition could be divided into different categories—much like the Olympics.
Video ga developnt contests could be split by genre.
From basic "guns, cars, and balls," to role-playing gas, to action gas—each category would have its own competition.
For gas with very complex designs, developers could even choose to compete in multiple categories. If a ga achieved strong results across several categories, that would indicate even greater value.
The competition could also be made more granular. For example, specific developnt conditions could be given, requiring developers to complete a particular technical task within a limited ti. The fastest individual or team to finish could receive a prize.
By subdividing the awards as much as possible, more people would have chances to win different prizes—another form of incentive.
This idea of subdividing competitions was inspired by the Olympics themselves.
The Olympics had strength-based events, track and field, and even purely recreational sports.
Video ga developnt competitions could adopt a similar structure.
This was only a preliminary idea, though. The details still needed careful discussion. Takayuki planned to talk it over with the other competition organizers once he arrived in London and go over specific improvents to the developers’ competition.
"Still... this alone probably isn’t enough," Takayuki muttered.
Even with these improvents outlined, he felt it still might not fully motivate developers to create better gas.
Sothing was still missing—there was room for further refinent.
But for now, he couldn’t quite pinpoint it. He decided to think about it again once he reached London.
This trip to London included Takayuki and several departnt heads from the ga developnt divisions.
So of them would serve as judges, while others would act as special guests, providing off-site guidance during developnt.
With their years of experience, serving as ntors on-site would be extrely beneficial to the developers.
After the private jet’s route was arranged, Takayuki boarded the plane to London along with the others.
"President, what kind of good gas do you think might co out of this competition?" asked Yabuki Shizuo, head of the Seventh Developnt Departnt, seated beside Takayuki.
It was Yabuki’s first ti participating in a ga developers’ competition, and he was attending as an off-site ntor. Curious about the event, he couldn’t help asking.
Takayuki had his eyes closed, resting, while still thinking about ways to improve ga developnt. Hearing Yabuki’s question, he shook his head.
"I don’t know. Ga developnt is a very complex process. How could we possibly know what kind of gas the developers will end up making?"
"Yabuki, once we get there, just focus on being a good ntor. Afterward, I’ll evaluate the gas you’ve guided. Once you’ve gone through that process, you’ll understand the current average quality of gas coming out of these developer competitions."
Yabuki turned his head to the other side, where Uchiyama Ei, head of the Ninth Developnt Departnt, was seated.
Uchiyama specialized in horror gas—Resident Evil was primarily under his supervision. He was the type who genuinely enjoyed watching players break down in despair, finding entertainnt in their suffering.
Of course, the gas themselves were still fun—but watching players collapse emotionally was his personal amusent.
"I’ve heard that the average quality of indie gas has dropped lately. Do we really have a way to improve that?" Yabuki asked.
"Well..." Uchiyama replied lazily, "of course we do. Isn’t that why the president is coming with us? I bet he’s already figured out a solution by now."
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