In Gastar Electronic Entertainnt's official retail stores, the shelves no longer displayed rows of ga cartridges or consoles like they used to—or at least, most shelves weren't stacked with repeated stock of consoles anymore.
The internet infrastructure in this world had developed far beyond what Takayuki originally expected.
People now overwhelmingly preferred to shop online.
And when it ca to video gas, physical retail was among the easiest industries to be replaced by e-comrce.
On one hand, players could buy digital versions of gas, allowing them to play the mont a new title unlocked.
On the other, physical copies could be preordered online, with official logistics estimating shipping and delivery ti. So most players didn't need to leave ho to get the latest gas.
With such a convenient online ecosystem, very few people still bought gas in-store.
Except on certain major launch days.
When gas like The Legend of Zelda, Super Mario, and other top-tier Gastar IPs were released, they still drew huge crowds to physical retail locations.
...
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That was partly because players had a chance to et the developers.
On launch days, key mbers of the developnt team would often visit stores for signing events, which helped boost foot traffic and visibility for the brick-and-mortar locations.
Outside of those special occasions, however, physical stores could feel quite empty.
But recently, that trend had started to shift a bit.
Gastar had just released a new batch of limited-edition console designs.
Each limited-edition console was crafted by a dedicated design team, tailored closely to the style and atmosphere of specific gas.
For example, the Breath of the Wild edition of the Switch featured a dock inspired by the Sheikah Slate. The dock had distinct Sheikah patterns, emitted a signature activation chi when the console was inserted, and included a center-mounted light to simulate the Sheikah Slate powering on.
The DOOM limited-edition ho console resembled a demonic cavern, as if hellspawn could erupt from its casing.
For the Football League edition, professional designers from the UEFA Champions League and other top leagues collaborated to create a sleek, football-thed console.
Each console was explosively stylish and visually striking.
Before this, most "limited editions" felt half-hearted—just a simple ga-thed skin slapped onto a standard console. They were lazy cash grabs with little design effort.
These, however, oozed sincerity and polish.
Best of all, the price difference was minimal—just $10–20 more than the standard models.
Hardcore gars couldn't resist.
However, online purchases were limited to one per custor.
While tens of thousands might rush to buy online, physical stores weren't under the sa pressure, aning so lucky fans could still snag a console in-store.
As a result, Gastar's retail stores started to see renewed foot traffic.
That said, these editions were still custom products, and mass production wasn't feasible. For most hit titles, only 100,000 units would be produced globally.
Though more batches could be added later, player demand would vary per IP.
Still, in the short term, Switch and ho console sales surged by about 15%.
That was still below their historical peak, though.
To truly increase revenue, more ideas were needed.
By the second half of 2015, after looking at the latest revenue data, Takayuki decided it was ti to pull out a major trump card.
Of course, this "trump card" wasn't so revolutionary ga title. Top-tier gas took massive effort and couldn't be mass-produced.
But there were other ways to spur player spending on a large scale.
"President, the limited-edition console strategy definitely gave things a boost," soone comnted, "but it still feels like a stopgap. Ga sales overall are struggling, and it seems like we've hit the limit of our player base."
Without even looking up, Takayuki asked:
"Have you done any research into how many gars there are now—including mobile, handheld, and every other gaming-adjacent user?"
"Roughly 1 billion. It's a massive number already. But among them, over 80% play free mobile gas. Only about 20% are paying custors, and that ratio hasn't changed much for years."
"1 billion, huh? Still too small," Takayuki muttered, clicking his tongue.
In his previous world, the global gaming population had reached 4 billion.
He'd managed to sell over 100 million FC (Famicom) units just in South Africa.
Total FC sales had reached a staggering 600 million units—a number that was unprecedented, possibly unrepeatable even by Takayuki himself.
Yet despite that insane volu, it hadn't yielded huge profits. In its later years, the FC was sold at a break-even or slight loss, just to expand the player base.
Looking back now, even that pace felt too slow.
"But President, isn't a player base of 1 billion already huge? Maybe we should consider adjusting strategy—invest more into in-ga purchase systems. Just look at how successful Dead or Alive: Beach Volleyball has been!"
"That's certainly one option. But I'd still like to explore a few others."
At this stage, Takayuki didn't lack money.
The company could run for years even if he spent freely—the revenue problems were more of a business optimization issue than a financial ergency.
"We should focus on ideas that reflect our identity—things that benefit both us and the players."
But what exactly?
Everyone in the room turned to Takayuki, waiting to see what idea might co next.
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