A light punch connected, followed by a command input—Terry spun into a shoulder charge: Power Charge.
Then, a ferocious Crack Shoot slammed the airborne Geese to the screen's edge.
A combo etched into Takuya's soul from a past life, executed fluidly and efficiently.
Onscreen, Geese's health bar dropped by nearly a third.
The office fell into stunned silence.
Seconds later, suppressed gasps erupted.
"Whoa—!"
"That combo! It's gorgeous!"
"You can play like that?!"
Developers, previously stumped by command inputs, gaped as if a new world had opened.
Yuji Suzuki watched, transfixed, his eyes flickering with awe and deeper contemplation.
Takuya didn't bask in the praise, stepping aside after the demo.
He approached Group Leader Shimizu and core programmers, his gaze shifting to a monitor displaying real-time backend data.
"How's the state machine switching?"
"What about input lag during simultaneous commands? Any input queueing?"
"Hitbox and hurtbox precision—any discrepancies in those moments?"
He fired off technical questions, focus snapping from player experience to underlying mechanics.
Shimizu, pointing at the data stream, barely contained his excitement.
"Meets expectations, Takuya-kun!"
"State transitions are seamless, no noticeable stutters."
"Hitbox logic is spot-on; every attack in that combo triggered precisely."
"Performance-wise, two-character battles hold steady framerates, with input lag within ideal range."
The core mechanics' validation relieved the team.
It proved Takuya's technical vision was fully feasible.
Tech leads nodded, their respect for Takuya deepening—he had both visionary ideas and the skill to execute them.
But amid the optimism, a programmer, Tanaka, running stress tests in a corner, frowned. He repeatedly tested a specific attack-defense scenario, fingers tapping the controller with soft clicks.
"Hm? Hold on…" Tanaka muttered, trying again.
Controlling Geese, he timed a Counter Throw (当て身投げ) against Terry's punch at a precise frame.
After several tries, a puzzling scene froze onscreen.
Geese's hand didn't touch Terry's fist; their hitboxes didn't even overlap, a hair's breadth apart. Yet, bizarrely, the Counter Throw triggered, Geese grabbing and tossing Terry as if by telekinesis.
"What's this?" a colleague, just relaxed, peered over. "A throw without contact?"
Tanaka shook his head, slowing the replay. "Look here…"
The commotion drew attention. Takuya approached, eyes locking onto the slow-motion frame. "Pause."
The screen froze. At the throw's critical frame, Geese's hurtbox seemed to unnaturally expand—or rather, the Counter Throw's grab range exceeded its visual animation.
"It's a hitbox issue," Takuya concluded, voice steady, betraying no emotion. "Likely an overflow in the frame's detection range."
The issue wasn't complex, but it punctured the room's ease like a tiny, stinging splinter. Silence fell, all eyes on the flaw.
It silently exposed the risks of judgment errors in complex character interactions and state switches. It was a warning: as more characters and unique moves were added, bug hunting and fixes would be a grueling, meticulous task. Suzuki, watching, lost his smile, his designer's scrutiny taking over.
The demo and initial testing wrapped up.
Takuya wasted no time, gathering Shimizu, core programmers, and planners in a small meeting area for a debrief.
"The demo's core gameplay and fluidity are validated—a huge success," Takuya said, boosting team morale.
"But," he pivoted, eyeing Tanaka, "the Counter Throw bug Tanaka-kun found needs immediate fixing. Top priority." He turned to the hitbox logic programmer. "Scrub all move hitbox data to ensure visual and actual detection align perfectly."
"Understood!" the programmer replied, expression grave.
"Once fixed," Takuya continued, "next phase: address all known issues, then focus on new character creation and integration."
"Per the plan, prioritize Andy Bogard and Joe Higashi. Build a playable version with at least three selectable characters soon for further tuning data."
Tasks were assigned clearly and methodically.
Then, Takuya's expression turned serious, scanning the group.
"Everyone, remember one thing. From the moment we add a second or third character, or even tweak Terry and Geese's balance, we'll face a challenge tougher and more central than technical execution."
He paused deliberately, letting his words sink in.
"That is—game balance."
He emphasized the term.
"How do we ensure Terry, Andy, Joe, and future characters have distinct fighting styles and unique moves, feeling totally different, yet maintain a delicate balance in overall strength?"
"How do we prevent one character from dominating, like in many action games, where everyone picks the strongest? Or avoid a character being too weak or flawed, ignored, and wasting resources?"
"Further, how do we design a system where characters counter each other, with strengths and weaknesses? How do fast characters handle powerhouses? How do projectile users fare against close-range fighters? We want diverse player strategies, not a stale loop of 'endless Power Wave' or 'one Counter Throw rules all.'"
"This balance will determine how far Fatal Fury, this unprecedented fighting game, can go and how long it will last."
His words were a sobering splash, cooling the pride from the demo's success. Developers, just marveling at combos and smoothness, now grasped that creating a new genre went beyond technical breakthroughs.
Balance, a single line in meeting notes, meant endless testing, parameter tweaks, and possibly overhauling move designs.
Suzuki, stroking his chin, shifted from self-deprecation to deep thought, his eyes gleaming. As a veteran producer, he understood the immense workload and design challenge behind "balance."
A programmer quipped dryly, "So, our future is arguing over spreadsheets and player feedback?"
A nearby colleague chuckled, easing the tension.
Takuya gave a rare smile, nodding. "In a way, yes. Welcome to the real world of fighting game development."
Their journey in crafting a fighting game had just taken a solid first step, with a road of unknowns and challenges ahead.