(Rebirth '86: I Opened the Gates to a New World Through Gaming)
Ethan Cole rode the elevator up to the 27th floor.
This was the heart of NGS Entertainment's game development division—where most of their top talent worked.
The moment he stepped out, he could feel the difference. The air buzzed with urgency. Developers rushed through the hallways, sleeves rolled up, eyes locked on tight deadlines and burning ideas.
Following the directions he'd been given, Ethan arrived at Office 01. A secretary checked his appointment, called internally for confirmation, and then nodded.
"Mr. Nakamura will see you now. Please go in."
Inside, a man sat hunched over a desk, scribbling something down. Without looking up, he said, "Take a seat. I just need a few minutes to wrap this up."
"No problem," Ethan replied with a smile, though inwardly he was anxious.
His presence here was hard-won. The real Ethan Cole—whose body he now occupied—was on an official business trip. He'd pulled strings to get this one morning off, promising he'd be back by the afternoon to resume his duties. And it was already past 10 a.m.
Time was tight.
A few minutes later, the man at the desk finally pushed aside his paperwork and looked up, studying Ethan carefully.
Ethan returned the gaze, just as curious.
Mr. Akira Nakamura looked to be in his mid-thirties. Fit, professional, sharply dressed in a crisp white shirt. His eyes were sharp, almost dissecting—like he could size up your worth in a glance.
"You're Ethan Cole, correct?" Nakamura asked. "You came with a letter of recommendation from—uh, Mr. Harrington?"
Ethan nodded.
Harrington had been Nakamura's senior at university years ago—a respected mentor and now a university professor back in the UK. Though they lived continents apart now, the two had kept in touch.
If not for that letter, Nakamura wouldn't have given some unknown kid a minute of his time. His schedule was jam-packed.
He assumed Ethan was here to discuss distribution rights—to try and pitch Japanese games in foreign markets. That, Nakamura was very interested in. Foreign markets were just starting to wake up. The first electronics companies were already raking in big profits overseas—why not games next?
But what Ethan said next completely surprised him.
"I'm not here to license games. I'm here to develop one—for your new console."
"…Excuse me?"
That wasn't what Nakamura expected.
Develop games? Foreigners pitching games to Japanese companies was practically unheard of.
"You're the first Westerner I've ever met trying to pitch a game to us. Now I'm really curious—what kind of game are we talking about?"
Ethan reached into his bag and pulled out a floppy disk.
"I've already developed it. It's all here. If you're willing to give it a try."
"You're saying it's done?" Nakamura raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected this kid to come with anything more than a concept and a pitch deck.
Usually, people came in hoping to charm their way into a development contract. They'd sell the idea first, and maybe build something after they got funding.
Someone showing up with a working prototype? That was rare.
He accepted the floppy and glanced at the label:"Contra."
Nakamura squinted. English was not his strong suit.
"Contra? What kind of game is this?"
"It's a side-scrolling shooter," Ethan explained. "Single player or co-op. Fast-paced, action-heavy."
"Co-op? You mean simultaneous two-player?"
"Exactly. Kind of like Bomberman in that regard, though the gameplay is totally different."
Nakamura raised a skeptical brow.
"You're saying you solved two-player simultaneous input? In real-time? How did you manage that? Most studios haven't figured out how to keep both players on screen without signal lag."
It was a real technical challenge at the time. Even NGS's internal teams hadn't cracked a reliable solution yet. And now some kid claimed he did?
Especially one from a country with barely any game dev scene?
Ethan smiled politely. "Sorry, that's kind of a trade secret. But I'd be happy to demonstrate."
Of course, for him, it really wasn't a big deal. Coming from a future where two-player gaming was ancient tech, he already knew the solution. But that didn't mean he was going to hand it over for free.
Nakamura studied him again. Harder this time.
He still didn't believe it.
"If you're serious, let's test it out."
Nakamura led Ethan down a few hallways into the restricted core of the development wing.
Before today, this area was strictly off-limits to outsiders. It was where the real work happened—where unreleased games, prototype hardware, and company secrets were developed and tested.
Ethan had always wanted to see what one of these elite Japanese dev rooms looked like up close. And now he had his chance.
Inside the dev wing, he could see at least 200 people—engineers, artists, programmers—all focused, locked into their screens. It reminded him of the startup team he'd built in his previous life. The passion, the creativity, the energy.
Someday, he promised himself, he'd build something even bigger.
"Mr. Cole, this way."
Ethan wanted to linger and soak in more of the scene, but Nakamura was already walking briskly ahead. This place was tightly guarded. Just letting him step inside was an exception.
He followed Nakamura into a smaller, private room loaded with electronic testing gear—oscilloscopes, soldering tools, wired-up dev kits. Clearly a QA or hardware testing lab.
"Wait here," Nakamura said. "I'll call in one of our engineers."
As Nakamura left the room, Ethan took a moment to study the equipment. His excitement dulled a little.
It was all… ancient.
At least by his standards.
Coming from the 21st century, the machines in this room looked like museum pieces. Some of them were downright archaic.
In the corner, he even spotted an old oscilloscope.
Man… they were playing games on this stuff?Engineers back then were crazy.
All around him were relics—things that, to him, belonged in a documentary.
The novelty wore off quickly. He sighed, took a seat, and waited.
The gap between eras is bigger than I thought.
A few minutes later, Nakamura returned—bringing someone with him. A short man, likely an engineer.