Monday 14 January 1998 - Sonaya Offices Japan.
Now the Sonaya Game Department offices were busier than ever. It was a critical time — next month in February, their flagship sports title, SFG (Sonaya Football Game), was scheduled for release. The marketing campaign was still going strong, with TV spots, magazine ads, and demo kiosks already in place across major retailers. Anticipation was building among fans, and internally, the pressure was on to make sure the game launched smoothly. But that wasn't the only reason the atmosphere buzzed with tension and energy.
A major meeting was underway, far more important than a typical check-in or progress report. It was what they called a "strategic sharing session," and this time, it involved top-level executives. Hikaru Kurata, the CEO of Sonaya and one of its major shareholders, was personally in attendance. And today, the agenda was bold: the official kickoff for the development of Sonaya's very first proprietary game engine.
This was no small move. For years, Sonaya had relied on ZAGE Unreal engines to develop its titles, often modifying existing technology from other companies to suit their needs. But now, inspired by the path ZAGE had taken, they were ready to make a leap of their own. They trying to following in ZAGE's footsteps as they were trying to carve a new path, one informed by both admiration and rivalry. And as the team gathered, they were beginning to realize just how much that decision would change their future.
And now, Junpei Hoshida was standing in front of the large screen, presenting the upcoming initiative known internally as "S-Engine." The room quieted as he spoke. "As you can all see, we still don't have a fully stable in-house engine," Junpei began, his tone a mix of honesty and regret. "Up to this point, we've been relying heavily on external tech — specifically engines developed by other company well its ZAGE. And while it hurts to admit it… ZAGE's game engine has been a tremendous help to us."
He clicked to the next slide, which subtly showcased benchmarks and performance graphs that mirrored the structure of ZAGE's engine. "We've quietly — and carefully — modified their engine for use in our Game Station titles. Not officially, of course, and without their knowledge, but the foundation came from them. And I'll say it: their engine is borderline insane in terms of performance, flexibility, and development tools. It's no surprise, even if they are our direct rivals."
At the front of the room, Hikaru Kurata remained silent. He didn't nod, didn't frown — but his expression confirmed what everyone in the room already knew: everything Junpei said was true. The elephant in the room had been addressed, and it was finally time to move forward.
"But now, we are officially developing our own engine," Junpei announced, his tone steady with a mix of pride and caution. "The project is already underway, and we've built a functioning prototype that shows real promise. This engine will be used internally and optimized specifically for our Game Station consoles moving forward." He paused for a breath, then sighed lightly and advanced to the next slide.
"For years, we used to think ZAGE was reckless—maybe even foolish—for giving their Unreal Engine away for free to other game developers," Junpei said, clicking to a new slide that showed internal diagrams labeled 'ZAGE Tricks.' "All we had to do in return was share the data on how we used the engine. It sounded like a win for everyone at first glance."
He paused, letting the room take it in. "But in hindsight, it wasn't reckless. It was smart. No—brilliant. And maybe even a little sinister."
He pointed to a highlighted section on the slide showing how developer usage data fed back into ZAGE's backend systems. "By giving their engine away for free, they weren't just being generous. They were building a massive, constantly updating stream of real-time development data. Every decision, every optimization, every workaround from thousands of developers that used it— all of it fed back into improving their engine. They got to study what worked, what failed, and where developers struggled. And that gave them a huge edge."
Junpei smirked, folding his arms. "Free, huh? I guess free things really are the most expensive. We gave them our workflows, our tweaks, even our bugs — and they turned all of it into progress. Meanwhile, we stayed still."
He turned back to the room. "That's why we're done. We're not giving ZAGE any more of our development data by using their engine. Not knowingly, not by accident. The S-Engine will be our own — built by Sonaya, for Sonaya. And if we do decide to license it out, it'll be on our terms. Whether it's studios under our umbrella or independent developers outside our network, they'll be the ones feeding into our system instead."
He paused with a smile, letting the implications sink in.
"This time, we learn from them. And we lead."
Everyone in the room nodded, though the energy felt very different compared to ZAGE meetings. At ZAGE, employees were often visibly inspired — energized by Zaboru's ambitious vision, eager to be part of something that felt innovative and personal. In contrast, Sonaya's meetings followed a more rigid, traditional corporate template. The employees here wore their professionalism like armor, masking their actual thoughts behind polite nods and cautious silence. Some of them, once out of view, began to quietly groan or complain under their breath. It wasn't that they disliked the direction — they were just tired of pretending they were on board with something they didn't fully believe in.
But to Hikaru Kurata, none of that mattered. As long as the job got done, internal sentiments weren't a concern. He valued execution over enthusiasm.
Once the meeting ended, the room slowly cleared. Hikaru stayed behind and sat with Junpei in a quieter corner of the conference lounge. The tension of the meeting had lifted slightly, replaced by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Hikaru took a slow sip, his expression unreadable, then turned to Junpei and asked a question that had clearly been on his mind.
"So Zaboru is using other developers as his tools to help him develop ZAGE Unreal Engine, huh?" Junpei chuckled, shaking his head slowly. "Well, maybe 'using' is a bit strong, boss — I mean, they did give developers free access to one of the best engines on the market. But the catch? That access came at a hidden price — their data. Every developer who used that engine unknowingly fed ZAGE with a stream of valuable development behavior, usage patterns, performance metrics, and even bug data. And it's that data that gave them the edge. We got to use a polished engine, sure, but they got to collect the entire industry's know-how. Meanwhile, we lost more than we realized."
Hikaru Kurata took another sip of his coffee and let out a low sigh. "Only Zaboru could think of something like this. Damn guy walks around acting like some friendly innovator, but in truth? He's cunning — ruthlessly clever, especially when it comes to systems like this. On the surface, it looks generous. Underneath? It's strategic exploitation masked as community sharing."
Junpei let out another quiet laugh and nodded. "Yeah, it really was a brilliant move in hindsight. Back then, we thought it was just some reckless, idealistic gesture — giving away something that valuable. It seemed naive. But now? Now we see it for what it was: a long-term investment. That mountain of user data they collected was far more valuable than any short-term licensing fee. We understand now how crucial that information was — and I'm sure other developers have started to realize it too. But by the time they do, it's already too late. They're hooked. The benefits far outweigh the losses for most studios, and they can't afford to back out."
Hikaru Kurata nodded slowly, unable to shake the thought lingering in his mind. Deep down, he genuinely hoped that someday the S-Engine would stand shoulder to shoulder with ZAGE's Unreal Engine — not just as a technical achievement, but as a symbol of independence. For now, though, his focus was more immediate and practical. What mattered most was cutting ties with the Unreal Engine, at least for internal development. He didn't want to keep feeding ZAGE valuable data, especially when that data, even if occasionally fabricated, still revealed patterns and practices that could be exploited.
There was a quiet determination in his eyes. Enough was enough.
Junpei smiled and asked different topics, "But Boss, are you sure we should release that ad tomorrow? I mean, it kind of takes another jab at ZAGE..."
Hikaru Kurata nodded confidently. "Of course. We're not attacking them — we're just stating the truth, Junpei. The fact is, ZAGE currently lacks a solid football or sports game lineup. That's where we're stepping in. We're focusing on that space because it's wide open, and we'd be fools not to take advantage of it."
He let out a quiet chuckle, clearly unconcerned.
Junpei sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just hope it doesn't backfire like it did last time. We really stirred the hornet's nest back then."
Hikaru chuckle "It wont dont worry Junpei"
To be continue
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