Friday 24 January 1999 Apple Offices Cupertino Silicon Valley.
Now in the Apple offices, the night had fully settled in. The dim hum of computer monitors and the soft tapping of keyboards filled the atmosphere as the newly established division of Apple—its dedicated video game department—was hard at work. This division was the result of a strategic collaboration with external partners like Philips and ZUSUGA, who had been brought in to co-develop Apple's long-rumored game console. Engineers from all sides were stationed here, working shoulder to shoulder on cross-platform architecture and proprietary hardware systems. Even Steve Jobs himself had taken a vested interest, visiting this department occasionally, showing a level of curiosity and commitment that his staff had rarely seen before.
Tonight was a special night. Steve Jobs, flanked by his core group of engineers, stood in front of a large screen in the central meeting room. The time displayed in the corner of the television read 18:50. In just ten minutes, the highly anticipated ZAGE monthly game trailer would air on national television. Despite being a rival in the tech industry, Jobs couldn't help but acknowledge ZAGE's towering presence in the video game market. Their reputation had grown so dominant that ignoring their output would be both foolish and irresponsible from a business perspective.
As the engineers whispered among themselves, Jobs remained still, his sharp eyes fixed on the screen. He wanted to see the trailer—not just out of curiosity, but to understand how ZAGE consistently captivated the public. To him, ZAGE was not only ahead in game development—they were leading a cultural movement. And with each new trailer, they were sending a signal to the world: that ZAGE wasn't just dominating the industry; they were defining it. The room fell into a quiet anticipation, the weight of inspiration and rivalry heavy in the air.
Steve Jobs turned to his lead engineer with a puzzled tone. "They released three games this month?"
The engineer gave a small nod and replied, "Yes, Mr. Jobs, they did. Three full games this month, all for the ZEPS 3 console."
Jobs raised his eyebrows, slightly leaning forward as he rubbed his chin in deeper thought. "And how many did they release last month?"
His engineer, already prepared for the follow-up, answered without hesitation, "Last month, they also released three titles—Roller Coaster Tycoon, Thief: The Dark Project, and Warcraft 3: Reign of Chaos. But unlike this month's lineup, those were exclusive to PC."
Steve Jobs furrowed his brow, clearly taken aback. "That's six full-scale games in just two months," he muttered, the disbelief thick in his voice. "Does anyone here know how many employees ZAGE has in total?"
Another engineer chimed in, offering a cautious estimate. "I think the last report mentioned they had around two thousand people, maybe a little more. But not all of them are developers, obviously."
Jobs nodded slowly, the weight of the realization settling in. "Only two thousand… and yet, they're releasing games at a scale comparable to companies with ten times the headcount. That's not just impressive—it's unreal." He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a moment before continuing. "They must have an incredibly tight pipeline. Still, even with great organization, how can they push out so many high-quality games at once? It just doesn't add up."
In recent weeks, Jobs had started looking into the broader world of video game development—beyond just the technology and into the full production lifecycle. What he had discovered had opened his eyes. Unlike the relatively linear development of most Apple products, game development was an intense, multilayered process. It demanded constant iteration, from pre-production planning, scripting, and prototyping, to level design, art creation, programming, and balancing. Then came the final push—QA, bug squashing, localization, marketing, and distribution Unlike previously when he underestimate the game development.
Jobs realized that building a single major game was like launching a small startup, each with its own culture and needs. And ZAGE was somehow running dozens of these simultaneously.
The questions swirling in his head were piling up. How was ZAGE structuring their internal teams? What kind of tools were they using? Was there some production secret they had uncovered? Were they building modular game engines? Were their teams cross-trained? Or did they have a decentralized, studio-like model?
Jobs didn't yet know the answers—but he knew one thing for certain: ZAGE wasn't just leading the market. They were doing something revolutionary behind the scenes, something that Apple had to understand—if they wanted to catch up.
But before he could dive deeper into his thoughts, the room dimmed further as the television screen suddenly turned black. A digital clock appeared in the corner, flashing the time: 19:00 — 7 PM sharp. A second later, a gleaming ZAGE logo burst onto the screen in a burst of stylized light, accompanied by a dramatic sound sting that caught everyone's attention.
Then, a bold, enthusiastic voice of the announcer echoed through the speakers: "A new year means new games! And for ZAGE, this month is going to thrill you—we're releasing three brand new titles! And the best part? Every single one of them is coming to ZEPS 3!"
The entire room leaned in, fully drawn into the spectacle that was about to unfold.
The screen first faded in to showcase a vibrant game that immediately evoked the charm of a traditional Japanese RPG, enhanced by its playful chibi-style visuals. The main character, a determined young girl wielding a bo staff, stood confidently at the center of the screen. The combat system appeared to be turn-based, filled with flashy attack animations and cute idle poses. Every movement was lovingly animated, and the environments had that cozy, handcrafted look typical of ZAGE's JRPGs.
As the footage played, the announcer's voice boomed with enthusiasm:
"Trails in the Sky! First Chapter! From the beloved creators at Team NIWA—the studio behind so many of your favorite ZAGE JRPGs!"
The trailer continued to roll, showcasing key gameplay systems, menu UI, spell effects, and sweeping camera shots of towns, dungeons, and airships gliding over clouds. Character portraits flashed during dialogue scenes, hinting at dramatic twists and emotional character arcs.
Then the screen transitioned abruptly with a bold drumroll.
The announcer's tone shifted to something heavier, deeper.
"Remember the past. Honor your history. This… is a game about war, legacy, and the people who lived through it."
The next game was starkly different. The color palette turned gray and muted, the setting shifting to the haunting ruins of war-torn Europe. It was 1945, and the world was at the brink of peace—but also on the edge of collapse. The screen showed a soldier cautiously moving through smoke and rubble, his rifle raised. First-person gameplay revealed gritty urban combat using period-authentic World War II firearms. Shouting in multiple languages echoed in the distance. Tanks rolled through shattered streets. Sniper shots rang out.
Then, across the screen:
"Medal of Honor."
A somber orchestral swell played as the title faded in.
But then, without warning, the energy spiked again. Bright colors exploded onto the screen, and the announcer practically shouted in excitement:
"And now—brace yourself! Test your friendship's strength! This isn't your MARIO ZAGE party game—this is something NEW, something CRAZY… this is Bishi Bashi Special!"
Suddenly, the screen burst into chaos. Minigames with ridiculous challenges zipped by—one had players dodging giant sushi, another mashing buttons to inflate balloons, and another performing absurd reaction tests like catching flying slippers. The visuals were exaggerated and ridiculous in the best way. Laughter and nonsense filled the screen. Up to four players could join in, and each minigame grew more outrageous than the last.
Finally, the announcer brought it home with a booming finale:
"Trails in the Sky: First Chapter, Medal of Honor, and Bishi Bashi Special—available TOMORROW at ZAGE official stores and other locations near your home! Don't miss it!"
Then the trailer cut clean to black, only to reveal one final image: Zaboru himself, grinning at the camera, confident and casual. He leaned forward and delivered his now-iconic line:
"Just buy it, okay?"
He flashed a mischievous smile—and with that, the screen faded out.
Steve Jobs continued to stare at the television screen, his expression unreadable. The trailer had ended, but the lingering impact of the visuals and energy still hung in the air. Around him, many of the engineers were visibly thrilled—some smiling, others already murmuring to each other about the gameplay they had just seen. The room buzzed with excitement, but Jobs didn't share their sentiment. Instead, his mind was a whirlwind of critique and confusion.
He finally broke the silence. "Why did they make such games?" he asked, gesturing toward the screen. "Trails in the Sky? Bishi Bashi Special? What's the point of games like those?" His voice was flat, with a tinge of frustration. "Medal of Honor—now that had decent graphics, some realism, some grit. But the rest?" He shook his head. "Why doesn't ZAGE focus more on graphical fidelity, on pushing visual technology? Who in their right mind prefers to play something that looks like a cartoon, like Bishi Bashi or that chibi RPG, when we now have the capability to build games with great 3d visuals?"
He turned to face the room more directly, his tone sharpening. "Be honest—are any of you actually excited about all of those games? Or is it just Medal of Honor that caught your attention?"
The engineers looked at each other, uncertain, until one finally spoke up, timidly at first. "I... I'm excited for all of them, Mr. Jobs." There was a pause, and then others began to nod slowly. "Me too," another added. "Same here," someone else chimed in.
Jobs raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Really?" he asked. "Help me understand—what is it about those cartoonish, simplistic graphics that appeals to you? What makes you interested in them?"
One of the engineers straightened up and spoke with more confidence. "Well, Mr. Jobs, for me personally, graphics are never the first thing I think about when playing a game. I care about gameplay—how fun it is, how creative or challenging it feels. Then comes the story. Graphics are important, sure, but they're secondary. I'd rather play a game that's fun and memorable than one that just looks impressive but feels hollow."
Jobs paused, genuinely considering the answer. He looked around the room and asked again, "Is that how the rest of you feel?"
The nods came quickly this time. A chorus of quiet affirmations followed. It was a rare moment—Jobs, typically so certain of his own vision, found himself momentarily shaken.
Steve Jobs was visibly surprised by their responses. He asked a few more engineers for their honest thoughts, and although their exact words varied, the message remained consistent: gameplay, immersion, and emotional impact mattered more to them than how realistic a game looked. This collective insight hit him like a quiet shock. For the first time, he truly began to understand that players weren't just buying pixels—they were investing in experiences.
'Players are thinking like that…?' he repeated in his head, his gaze drifting toward the darkened TV screen. 'They're not just chasing ultra-realistic 3d visuals or tech demos—they want something more meaningful. I've misunderstood them…'
Up until now, Jobs had only skimmed the surface of the gaming world. He had thought of it as a technical arena—just another category of consumer electronics waiting to be disrupted. But after spending time with the newly formed game development division, sitting in on early discussions and planning sessions, a different picture emerged. What he once thought was a straightforward industry had revealed itself to be a rich and complex ecosystem full of artistry, psychology, community, and constant evolution.
The curtain had been pulled back—and behind it, Steve Jobs saw the truth: his understanding of video game development had been shallow, superficial at best.
'This won't do,' he admitted privately. 'My perspective is wrong. I've been looking at this from the lens of a product designer, not a game developer.' He tapped a finger lightly on the table. 'I need to unlearn what I think I know. I need to rebuild my understanding from the ground up.'
Still, a part of him remained distant. 'But I'm not personally interested in these kinds of games… they don't appeal to me on a gut level. Even so, personal bias has no place here. Apple must act intelligently. We need data—serious research into the video game market, how it breathes, what drives it.'
Now, Steve Jobs was no longer merely intrigued—he was activated. His awareness had shifted. He saw clearly that game development was not just a tech venture—it was a new frontier of creativity, and he was only beginning to grasp its full scope. The next chapter for Apple—and for himself—would require humility, curiosity, and a willingness to challenge everything he thought he knew.
The journey into games of Apple had only just begun.
To be continue
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