When Hayakawa Ueto posed his question, the departnt head imdiately answered seriously, "President, I believe this ga series serves as a standard answer key for us and other companies. We've already purchased three installnts of the series, and the gaplay evolution between them hasn't been significant. I don't think it's necessary to buy it again."
"And what's the reason for that? You think it would be a waste of ti?" Hayakawa pressed.
"Yes, sir." The departnt head nodded. "There's not much left to learn from this type of ga. My team already understands how such gas are made, and we now have the ability to develop similar ones ourselves. So I don't think we need to waste more ti analyzing Assassin's Creed."
Hayakawa gave the departnt head a deep look. "Is that just your opinion, or does your team feel the sa way?"
"Uh... it's mostly my opinion. Mainly because we really don't have much ti for anything else right now."
"So what I'm hearing is you're complaining about all the overti?"
"No—absolutely not!" The departnt head quickly explained in a panic.
"I'm not forcing anyone to work overti. It's just that your team's developnt efficiency still doesn't match Gastar Electronic Entertainnt's. Of course, that's understandable. Which is why you have to make up the difference with hard work, to compensate for the lack of raw talent."
As the president of Surei Electronics—one of Japan's top companies—Hayakawa Ueto was under trendous performance pressure.
He needed excellent results to maintain his position. At the end of the day, he was a capitalist. With shareholders breathing down his neck, and knowing he lacked natural talent, he could only rely on relentless pressure to chase Gastar's lead.
That, of course, made life miserable for the developers. If Surei didn't pay so well, most of them probably wouldn't last.
"I know what kind of ga Assassin's Creed is," Hayakawa said. "Yes, the past few titles have been very similar. But I still recomnd you keep buying the series. Gastar Electronic Entertainnt is not as simple as you think. If you believe their gas have no value, how do you expect to make it in this industry?"
"...Yes, understood." The departnt head bowed, sweat beading on his forehead. He didn't dare et Hayakawa's eyes.
By now, Hayakawa was nearing sixty. He had served as president for over a decade. Over ti, he had inherited the sa intimidating aura his father had when he was in charge. No one dared act casually in front of him.
"Focus on the task at hand. You don't need to rush developnt for now. Video gas are cultural entertainnt products. Creativity under pressure is not ideal. I shouldn't have put so much stress on you. Take so ti to relax."
This was as good as a royal decree. The departnt head naturally didn't dare defy it and hurried to deliver the order to the rest of the team.
Upon hearing it, the developers—who had been running on fus for the past two or three months—instantly cheered.
Recently, the rise of standardized formula-based ga templates had made developnt much easier. But that also ant developers were expected to produce more gas in less ti.
People like Takayuki, who still pursued idealism in ga developnt, were rare. Most companies were following the path of churning out formulaic titles again and again.
Takayuki couldn't control that. The best he could do was instill his philosophy during lectures: the ti saved by developnt tools wasn't ant to push people to rush the next ga—it was ant to give them more ti to create sothing truly imaginative.
Still, few companies really took that to heart.
Capital and creativity often clashed in entertainnt.
Unless a ga developer had the influence of people like Miyazaki, Shigeru Miyamoto, or Hideo Kojima, it was hard to push back.
"Alright, everyone," the departnt head announced, "Just because you're pausing developnt doesn't an you're off the hook. The president said that starting tonight, you should all go ho and play Assassin's Creed: Revelations, which launched in the last two days. Within a week, I want a gaplay experience report from each of you. I want to see what insights you have."
"Huh? But that ga's so boring. Isn't it just another formula ga?"
"Yeah, it feels like a waste of ti."
"No choice. This is the president's order," the departnt head said. "Or do you want to go against the president?"
No one dared respond.
At least they were finally being given a break. Even if they had to write reports on Assassin's Creed: Revelations, that was still better than the constant overti they were used to.
As for the departnt head himself—he had no interest in actually playing such a formulaic ga. He'd rather spend the ti networking or playing golf.
That was what he considered the lifestyle of the upper class.
He had clawed his way up from the bottom, and he craved power. Wasting ti on sothing he considered aningless was, in his mind, a cri.
As for the gaplay reports, he'd just have his subordinates handle them. Once they submitted theirs, he would edit and combine them into his own.
He quietly made these plans, then told the team to get back to work.
When the workday ended, the devs rushed out of the office—none of them stayed behind. They had been waiting for a chance to leave on ti for ages.
A few of them imdiately made plans to go out drinking, singing karaoke, and eating top-tier sushi.
As for the reports? That could wait.
After all, even their boss was going to do the sa.
And deep down, most of them didn't believe the Assassin's Creed series had much value anyway.
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