Three hours later, at home in Palo Alto. Wearing an apron and busy in the kitchen, Ethan cracked four eggs into a bowl and added some fresh milk.
After whisking the mixture until smooth, he strained out the foam and egg veins, then set a pan on the stove and melted a tablespoon of butter.
He poured in the egg mixture, stirring slowly over low heat, and turned off the flame when it was about half-cooked. Sprinkling a touch of white pepper over the soft, creamy scrambled eggs, he transferred them onto a plate and carried them to the dining room.
By the time Ethan brought out the last dish, the table was set with a hearty dinner—steak, salad, soup, and scrambled eggs.
In his previous life, after cooking such a meal, Ethan would have taken out his phone, snapped a photo, and shared it on Moments.
He would want all his friends to know that his cooking skills were still top-notch.
But now, without the Internet or social media, the only thing left was to entertain himself—and admire his own work.
Oh no. There's someone right next to me. Why am I not getting any reaction at all?
"Hey, hey! Give me some reaction here! Dinner's ready!"
Snapping his fingers, Ethan drew Evelyn's attention away from the papers she was absorbed in.
Startled, she looked up at him blankly, then instinctively glanced at the table. When the beautifully arranged dishes and their tempting aroma finally registered, she blinked, snapped out of her daze, and offered a belated compliment.
"Oh, Ethan, are you done? You really worked hard on this~"
"…"
"How perfunctory."
Ethan pursed his lips, letting his displeasure show. Evelyn quickly changed her tone. Putting her hands together and widening her eyes dramatically, she exclaimed, "Oh my God—what a wonderful dinner! And all my favorites!
Oh, Ethan—did you make all of this just for me? Thank you so much—"
"…"
The overly theatrical performance almost made Ethan choke.
Her tone was so exaggerated, it practically reeked of insincerity.
"Okay, okay!" Unable to take it any longer, he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Evelyn, please spare me. I don't need the praise anymore. Let's just eat."
He placed the knife, fork, and spoon neatly on the plate and pushed it toward her.
Seeing his helpless expression, Evelyn couldn't help but laugh. She got up, dragged her chair closer, and sat down beside him with a thump.
Waving the document in her hand, she explained with a smile,
"Oh, Ethan don't be mad It's not that I was ignoring you. It's just… the proposals in these two cooperation agreements really shocked me!"
She emphasized her point, almost gasping. "The terms are insane! Fifteen million dollars? A twenty-million-dollar contract just like that? Is this because they have too much money? Or just because they can? Do other countries really have game markets this big?"
Indeed, after Evelyn came home from school, Ethan had handed her Sega's and Nintendo's letters of intent. After all, Snake Game wasn't his project alone. If it was going to launch overseas, Evelyn needed to be informed.
And while Ethan appreciated her taking it seriously, she had gotten so absorbed in reading that she'd gone completely quiet.
Because he knew the whole story, Ethan didn't mind.
He simply slid her dinner plate back in front of her, picked up his own knife and fork, and cut into the steak.
"Of course other countries have massive game markets," he said casually. "Businessmen are driven by profit. If this deal weren't lucrative, why would they come to me? What, are they just giving us free money? Are they crazy?"
"That's true," Evelyn agreed, nodding.
"Then what do you think we should do?" she asked.
At the same time, she added, "I suppose you have no plans to go independent with this, right? At least not at this stage?"
Evelyn was absolutely right. When it came to the overseas distribution rights for Snake Game, Ethan really did plan to sell them.
It wasn't that he didn't want to handle it himself—it was simply that they didn't have the strength to do so yet.
"Exactly!"
As he placed a freshly cut piece of steak on Evelyn's plate, Ethan nodded. "We're in no position to talk about running overseas operations ourselves. I knew this back when I was working at Magnavox. Sega spent fifty years and over twenty million dollars just to build a complete arcade production line in Japan and Southeast Asia. That kind of time and financial investment is far beyond what we can afford right now."
"As for setting aside our worries and building our own factory?"
He shook his head. "That's even more impossible. Remember what happened to Atari when they tried it?"
After the success of Pong, Atari founder Nolan Bushnell believed he was the chosen one. He immediately started dreaming of exporting games and capturing global markets. His first target was a country with a thriving economy and strong consumer base.
But after confidently establishing a branch in Japan and pouring millions into it, Atari quickly discovered that Japan was a closed market, one where foreign investors were unwelcome.
Their impulsive decision violated the local business rules, which led to heavy sanctions and organized boycotts.
In the end, Atari had no choice but to admit defeat and withdraw.
When millions of dollars couldn't even buy them a proper foothold, Ethan—who didn't have nearly that kind of capital—wasn't about to risk overseas expansion himself.
Ethan had told Evelyn this story before, so when he brought it up again, she immediately smiled.
"Yeah I get it," she said.
"Why not?" Ethan replied with mock seriousness. "Our colleagues have already provided us with a negative example. The least we can do is pay our respects to their sacrifice—and express our heartfelt gratitude for their failure. Deepest condolences."
He even winked at her as he said it.
"Pfft—"
The playful remark sent Evelyn into peals of laughter. Tossing the documents aside, she finally picked up her knife and fork and cut into the steak. But the moment the nearly-rare meat hit her tongue, her brows knitted instinctively.
She glanced at the steak's still-pink center, then at Ethan, who was happily enjoying his meal, and could only shake her head helplessly before finishing her bite.
"So," she asked through a mouthful of steak, "which company do you want to work with?"
The question made Ethan pause. After swallowing, he frowned slightly, lost in thought.
"To be honest, it's a tough call," he admitted. "If we're talking about market reach, I'd choose Sega. They not only have branches in Japan and Southeast Asia, but also their own distribution channels in Europe. Their global logistics are definitely stronger than Nintendo's.
But if we're talking about the depth of a single market, then I'd go with Nintendo. Japan is the second-largest electronic gaming consumer market in the world after North America. A deeper focus on that market could bring us even greater profits. And Nintendo—well, they've been in Japan for nearly a hundred years. If anyone knows how to fully tap into that market, it's them."
"What?" Evelyn was taken aback by Ethan's words.
"Nintendo is that powerful? I thought it was just some ordinary Japanese company!"
That reaction was understandable. Americans of this era actually knew very little about Nintendo. In fact, before Mario ever became the face of a certain plumber-themed craze, few people in the U.S. had even heard the name "Nintendo."
But that was perfectly normal. After all, Nintendo at this point was still focused on its domestic market and hadn't seriously expanded into America.
However—just because the locals didn't know about it didn't mean Ethan, would ignore it. While organizing his thought, he began explaining Nintendo's accomplishments to his sister:
"Nintendo was founded in the late 1800s. At first, they specialized in hanafuda—a uniquely Japanese card game. At their peak, they practically monopolized the entire hanafuda market in Japan.
When they hit the ceiling in that field, they looked for new business opportunities and introduced Western-style playing cards to Japan. Before Nintendo, no company in Japan had been making Western playing cards, so they naturally gained a monopoly advantage.
Not only that, they partnered with Disney, obtained official character licenses, and printed classic Disney characters on their playing cards. That deal turned their playing card business into a massive success."
Ethan paused, then continued. "Later, Nintendo ventured into the toy industry. They had an engineer named Gunpei Yokoi, who invented several blockbuster toys—each selling over a million units in a single year.
Oh, and remember the light gun that came with the Magnavox Odyssey? That was his invention too. That one product alone earns Nintendo tens of millions of dollars every year."
"Wait—what?!" Evelyn's eyes widened. "They made Magnavox's light gun?"
Ethan nodded with a grin. "Yep. That was them."
The "light gun" they were talking about was the peripheral used for shooting games. When a target appeared on the TV screen, the player could aim, pull the trigger, and hit the target virtually.
Though it sounded advanced, the technology had actually been around since the 1960s—and Gunpei Yokoi had been the one to invent it.
"Wow that's honestly incredible," Evelyn murmured, impressed.
She had never expected Nintendo to be this formidable.
As Ethan spoke, her curiosity got the better of her.
"Ethan, how do you even know all this?" she asked, then quickly added her own guess.
"You weren't exactly paying attention to them back when you were working at Magnavox, were you?"
"Something like that." Ethan just smiled at her.
"So then… you're leaning toward Nintendo?" Evelyn asked.
But almost immediately, another thought struck her. "Wait a minute. Don't you think it's weird that Sega and Nintendo both showed up at the same time?
Why would they both come to buy the publishing rights for Snake Game at exactly the same moment?"
Ethan shook his head. "I don't know why Sega showed up now. But… are you saying Nintendo's timing might have something to do with Magnavox?"
"Well… you were the one who humiliated them," Evelyn said, frowning slightly, clearly thinking it over.
Her words made Ethan laugh. "Oh, sister, you're overthinking it. Magnavox doesn't have that kind of pull. They could never influence Nintendo like that."
Even so, the timing of both Sega and Nintendo's appearance puzzled Ethan as well. It really was too much of a coincidence.
But after digging through his memories of his previous life, he concluded it was probably just that—a coincidence.
He remembered first learning about Nintendo back in school during a course on financial investment. The teacher had introduced the class to long-term blue-chip stocks held by various government pension funds.
When talking about the Japanese market, the teacher had specifically singled out Nintendo—because for many years, Nintendo had been a money-printing machine in Japan, second only to Toyota.
With its consistently high price-to-earnings ratio for over a decade, Nintendo became a prime case study for financial professionals.
Even Nintendo's success could be summed up in one sentence—
right partner.
After all, the Yamauchi family who founded Nintendo had their start with the Mitsui Zaibatsu! Later, when they began selling hanafuda, they latched onto another giant—Tachimoto's "Tobacco King," Murai Yoshihei!
When Ethan remembered these facts, he realized he'd been worrying too much. Even if Magnavox was powerful and annoyed with him, there was no way they could move Nintendo.
Because Nintendo wasn't just a game company—back then, it was practically a monopoly. Magnavox trying to "instruct" them?
Might as well ask for the keys to Nintendo HQ while you're at it.
Do they really think they have that kind of pull?
As for Sega… Ethan had just been sued by Magnavox—how could he and Sega possibly have a cozy, friendly partnership now?
he didn't tell Evelyn all of this. He simply said that the likelihood of Magnavox pulling the strings behind everything was very low.
And Evelyn? She wasn't interested in corporate drama anyway.
Once Ethan gave her a brief explanation, she simply nodded and said,
"Since you think it's fine, then I'll leave the decision to you. Just tell me when it's time to sign."
"Are you sure?" Ethan asked, though her answer was exactly what he expected. He knew Evelyn hated business negotiations.
Still, he couldn't help teasing, "Aren't you afraid I'll sell you off?"
"Do you dare?" Evelyn rolled her eyes, raised her left hand, and made a fist.
"I wouldn't dare," Ethan admitted immediately.
"Hmph" Evelyn gave a satisfied hum, as if celebrating a small victory. she was content, Ethan finally stopped joking and revealed his plan:
"Here's what I'm thinking, Evelyn. Give Nintendo the exclusive agency for Snake Game, and hand over the rest—everything outside North America and Nintendo's share—to Sega.
If they accept, great. If Sega refuses… then we'll just have to strategically give up those smaller markets.
"After all, North America and Japan together already make up over 80% of the global video game market. Choosing Sega just to scrape up the remaining scattered regions wouldn't be cost-effective."
Evelyn had no objections to Ethan's plan. So, the next day at work, Ethan called Sega founder David Rosen.
But the moment he laid out his proposal, David Rosen grew noticeably cold. He rejected Ethan's "leftovers" in a stiff tone and insisted that global agency was Sega's bottom line.
That result left Ethan deeply regretful. Since they couldn't reach an agreement, there was nothing left to do but part ways.
After that, Ethan dialed the number Hiroshi Yamauchi had left for him.
To his surprise, Nintendo's president personally rushed to the Stanford Industrial Zone within half an hour.
"Oh, Mr. Jones! I'm so glad you chose Nintendo!"
Hiroshi Yamauchi expressed his excitement as soon as they met.
"I hope we can have a pleasant partnership moving forward."
Ethan extended his hand and shook his firmly. Though they had reached a consensus with Nintendo, the contract would not be signed for another three days.
The reason was simple: Japanese companies were famously meticulous about contracts. For any vague or ambiguous terms, they would insist on adding detailed written clarifications.
Thus, a contract that could have been wrapped up in a few dozen pages often turned into a document hundreds of pages long.
And as for this kind of overly meticulous process.
Ethan could only shrug helplessly. Fortunately, he didn't have to handle it personally—an external lawyer would take care of the entire process.
All Ethan had to do was wait for the contract to be finalized and give it a quick review.
Even this kind of success could be summed up in one sentence—attach yourself to the right people.
The Yamauchi family who built Nintendo started out tied to the Mitsui zaibatsu. Later, when they were selling hanafuda, they allied with Tachimoto's tobacco magnate Murai Yoshihei.
When Ethan remembered that, he realized he'd been worrying for nothing. Magnavox was too small a player to move Nintendo. Nintendo wasn't just a game maker—it already had monopoly power in its fields. If Magnavox thought it could boss Nintendo around, they might as well ask for the company keys.
As for Sega… Ethan had just been sued by Mi Luohua—how could the two sides suddenly cozy up now?
He didn't tell Evelyn all of this. He only said the odds that Magnavox was pulling every string were very low. Evelyn wasn't interested in corporate gossip anyway. After Ethan's brief explanation she merely nodded and said, "If you think it's fine, make the decision. Tell me when it's time to sign."
"Are you sure?" Ethan asked—though her easy answer was exactly what he'd expected. He knew she hated negotiating. Still he teased, "Aren't you afraid I'll sell you off?"
"Do you dare?" Evelyn rolled her eyes, raised her left hand and made a fist.
"I wouldn't dare," Ethan said at once. Evelyn hummed in triumph.
Then Ethan laid out his plan. "Give Nintendo the exclusive agency for Snake Game. For everywhere else—outside North America and Nintendo's territory—offer the agency to Sega. If Sega accepts, great. If not, we strategically abandon those smaller markets. North America and Japan together already account for over eighty percent of the global video-game market; chasing the rest through Sega isn't cost-effective."
Evelyn had no objection.
The next day Ethan called David Rosen, Sega's founder. When Ethan proposed his split, Rosen bristled and rejected the idea, insisting global agency was Sega's bottom line. Ethan regretted it—no agreement could be reached, so they parted ways.
Then Ethan called the number left by Hiroshi Yamauchi. To his surprise, a representative from Nintendo arrived at the Stanford industrial park within half an hour. "Mr. Jones, we're delighted you chose Nintendo," Yamauchi said, visibly excited. "I hope we can have a pleasant cooperation."
They reached consensus, but the contract wouldn't be signed for three days. Japanese companies were notoriously meticulous about contract wording; any ambiguous clause demanded a written clarification. What might have been a few dozen pages could easily balloon into hundreds. Ethan felt helpless—but the tedious back-and-forth would be handled by outside lawyers. All he had to do was wait for the draft and review it.
Note:
1. Atari entered the console market in 1973. In 1974 they sold the company and its assets to Namco for US$5 million; Namco later became Atari's agent in this story. (Source: Silicon Valley History.)
2. Nintendo's success had deep roots. The Yamauchi family's great-grandfather ran a lime shop in Kyoto during the Edo period and had ties to the Mitsui zaibatsu. Fusajiro Yamauchi (originally Fukui) married into that family; their lime shop became Mitsui's exclusive Kyoto supplier and handled much government infrastructure work, including projects for Kyoto University Hospital. The shop still exists as Haitaka.
3. Murai Yoshihei—known as a Meiji-era tobacco magnate—had a close relationship with Fusajiro Yamauchi.
4. The light-gun patent does belong to Nintendo; based solely on that technology, they earned significant annual revenue (reported as tens of millions in the 1970s).