"Um, Takayuki, actually I have one more small, slightly shaless request," said Tokarev after cheerfully agreeing to all of Takayuki's licensing terms.
"What kind of request? No need to be so formal between us — just say it. Though I can't promise I'll agree."
"Hehe, it's nothing major. I was wondering if you had any IPs you'd be willing to license out. I'd love to adapt so of your ga titles into films. It'd be such a sha for your gas not to get movie adaptations — you'd be leaving a lot of money on the table."
"My IPs, huh... now that you ntion it."
Tokarev's eyes lit up.
Was this a yes?
"You know Resident Evil, right? I'm thinking of making so movies based on that ga."
"Resident Evil? Oh, that one! I've heard of it — it's pretty well known in horror circles."
It wasn't just "pretty well known."
Resident Evil essentially pioneered a whole new direction in this world. Before it, zombies were usually rooted in religious or mythological folklore. Films in that genre were often low-budget gore-fests with no depth — just aid at a niche audience with a thing for blood and guts.
But Resident Evil? It completely reinvented the genre, introducing a modern bio-science infection narrative that was far easier for contemporary players and viewers to accept.
So when Resident Evil launched, it quickly spread through fan communities thanks to its unique setting.
Now that online video platforms were becoming mainstream, fans had even started producing their own Resident Evil-inspired short films.
The ga basically beca the blueprint for the genre — even people in the film industry were taking notes.
There was even a famous director who once said publicly that he would waive all fees just for the chance to direct a Resident Evil film.
Sure, he could have created sothing similar from scratch — the zombie infection the wasn't exactly copyrighted — but Resident Evil already had a compelling, complete world. Few creators had managed to go beyond what the ga had already done.
That made adapting Resident Evil into a film all the more appealing. And the director was a huge fan of the setting.
The only reason nothing had co of it was that Gastar Electronic Entertainnt had never responded.
Not because they weren't interested — Takayuki had just forgotten about it.
Back when he developed Resident Evil, Takayuki had originally planned to rge it with the story of World War Z. That film, in his opinion, had pushed the sheer terror of zombies to its peak. Few zombie movies had surpassed it since.
His idea had been to blend World War Z's scale into the Resident Evil narrative — and given how loose the WWZ plot was, it wouldn't be hard to integrate.
But between developing gas nonstop, he simply hadn't had ti to think about it.
Until Masaru Ota's visit jogged his mory.
If not for Masaru, Takayuki might've gone on forgetting about the treasure trove of IPs he owned. That conversation had been a real eye-opener.
In the original world, adapting ani and film into gas was the easiest way to get fans of those properties interested in video gas.
So now, Takayuki finally realized just how many IPs he had that could be adapted into films.
He was even considering building a Pixar-like in-house animation studio, along with expanding his VFX departnt. It used to be only 100–200 people — now he wanted to scale it up to 500 to handle future projects.
Back on the call with Tokarev, Takayuki said, "I actually already have a script for a Resident Evil film. If you're interested, you can take the project. I won't ask for much in licensing fees — just five percent."
This was a return gesture of goodwill.
Tokarev had generously offered his own IPs at symbolic rates — so Takayuki figured it was only right to do the sa.
Tokarev was delighted.
He had just secured a goldmine.
"You already have a script?! That's fantastic! And since it's written by the ga's original creator, I'm sure it's amazing. When can I read it?"
"Give a few days — I'll clean it up and send it to you."
"Okay! I'll be waiting. And hey, co visit in the States soti — it's been ages since we had dinner. We need to catch up properly."
Takayuki smiled. "Absolutely."
After hanging up, Takayuki sat back and reflected.
He mulled over Masaru's grassroots promotion idea and the direction for his ga adaptations.
Tokarev's studio had war films, sci-fi blockbusters, and even so action-packed crowd-pleasers — all perfect candidates for ga adaptations.
And now that the Uncharted-like ga was well into developnt, the team was gaining valuable experience.
Once Uncharted wrapped up, they could imdiately pivot to these more formulaic industrial-style gas.
These gas weren't about breaking new ground or setting records in quality. Their goal was simple: grow the player base. As long as the quality hit a solid 3.5 stars or more, that was enough.
Other teams were doing the sa. At this stage, these adaptations were like XP fodder — giving teams more experience in industrial-scale ga developnt while also gently hinting at Takayuki's future plans.
On his desk sat a new top-tier project waiting to begin developnt — a title well-known in the original world:
The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild.
Since the Switch was on its way, it was only natural to make this one of the console's flagship titles.
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