Two days later, the latest issue of Famitsu appeared in the most prominent spots of every bookstore and convenience store.
On the cover, Hideo Kojima's portrait occupied half the page, his gaze sharp and focused.
Beside it, a bold headline:
"The Man Who Squeezed the Mega Drive Dry! Exclusive: The Untold Story Behind Urgent Crisis!"
The moment the magazine hit the shelves, it sent a ripple through the player community—especially among the hardcore fans who had once obsessed over Metal Gear. Nearly every one of them grabbed a copy.
They skipped everything else and flipped straight to the multi-page interview.
---
"Wait—Kojima spent almost an entire year in the U.S.?"
"No way, he actually worked shoulder-to-shoulder with Tom Clancy?"
'"Squeezed the Mega Drive dry, not a single drop left"? Then I have to expect greatness."
"Hurry up and release it already. I'll do anything."
The readers were fired up, as if they themselves had taken part in pushing hardware to the brink of collapse.
Kojima was no longer a distant name. He felt alive—an obsessive, passionate creator sharing his secrets directly with them.
---
In Takuya Nakayama's office, a marketing staffer rushed in holding an envelope, visibly excited.
"Sir, these are reader letters sent over by Famitsu." He placed a thick stack onto the desk. "All from players who read Kojima's interview—they say they can't wait to buy Urgent Crisis!"
Nakayama nodded calmly, signaling him to continue.
"And there's… a very strange phenomenon." The staffer scratched his head, puzzled. "The distribution manager at Kadokawa just called, asking—very politely—whether we've been doing some kind of secret joint marketing with them."
"Oh? Why would he think that?"
"He said Tom Clancy's military novels suddenly skyrocketed in sales across Japan these last two days. Some major bookstores even sold out their leftover stock. They asked the buyers why—and discovered it came from Kojima's interview. He mentioned Clancy was his idol and mentor."
The staffer looked baffled.
"Those fans, while pre-ordering the game, are also rushing to bookstores to buy Clancy's novels, saying they want to 'study in advance and keep up with Kojima's thinking.' Sir, this is…"
It was unheard of. A video game producer's interview boosting sales in an entirely different industry.
"Tell Kadokawa it's a beautiful accident," Nakayama said with a faint smile. "And we'll call it… the Kojima Effect."
"Kojima Effect?" The staffer blinked, then his eyes brightened. "Understood!"
---
Meanwhile, at the game review department workspace, Kojima sat with headphones on, focusing intently on an RPG submitted for evaluation.
This was his way of forcing his mind to detach completely from Urgent Crisis.
A coworker crept over holding a copy of Famitsu and tapped his desk with a pen.
"Kojima-san, you're a celebrity now."
Kojima took off his headphones. Seeing his own face on the cover made him look slightly uncomfortable—but when he saw the reader letters handed to him, he froze.
Nakayama's words resurfaced:
"We aren't just selling games. We're building a brand."
So this… was what building a brand felt like.
He couldn't help but smile.
Maybe being a "star creator" wasn't so bad after all.
---
While the Famitsu interview was still stirring the gaming world, Urgent Crisis officially launched nationwide.
On release day, Akihabara's game stores didn't see the massive crowds of a Dragon Quest launch. The lines weren't long—but every person waiting wore an expression of unwavering determination.
Many had the latest issue of Famitsu tucked under their arm. Some were even holding Tom Clancy novels, reading while they waited.
"Hey, did you see the AI part Kojima talked about? They say enemies can cover each other and even flank!"
"Of course! That's exactly why I'm here. Doing this on a Mega Drive is insane."
"Man, I'm ready to get destroyed. Consider it experiencing a tiny fraction of what Kojima went through being 'interrogated' by Clancy."
They exchanged knowing smiles.
They weren't here for a simple action game.
They were here on a pilgrimage—to witness what a "squeezed-dry Mega Drive" could truly produce.
---
A week after release, in Nakayama's office.
The head of marketing presented the latest report, looking both excited and hesitant.
"Sir, the first-week sales are out—three hundred thousand units."
For a Sega title, that was unquestionably a hit, though still short of becoming a nationwide phenomenon.
He wasn't sure how Nakayama would take it.
But Nakayama didn't even glance at the sales number. He tapped another page instead.
"How's the reception?"
"Excellent!" the manager straightened. "Player reactions are polarized, but very interesting. Some complain the game is too hard, too slow, and the learning curve absurd—but despite that, they still praise the quality without hesitation."
"Oh? That unusual?"
"Yes." He chuckled. "Most complaints basically say: 'This game hates humanity, but I've never seen enemies this smart. Getting crushed feels great. Highly recommended for anyone who wants a real mental challenge.' And the core players? They're in full-blown fanatic mode."
He held up another stack—feedback compiled from magazines, even including self-identified developers.
"'I saw the AI squad change approach the moment I threw a smoke grenade—they flanked me from the side! Kojima wasn't exaggerating!'"
"'How did they even implement mechanics like this? Is the Mega Drive really capable of such AI?'"
"Sir, the game is already being treated as a technical classic among programmers."
Nakayama's smile deepened.
This was exactly the effect he wanted.
He tapped the desk lightly. "Don't worry about the numbers. This is a gold-plated nameplate. These three hundred thousand players are our strongest seeds."
---
Meanwhile, reviews from gaming media began rolling in.
Famitsu gave it an impressive 38/40, placing it in the Platinum Hall.
Its commentary was overflowing with praise:
"Through sheer hardcore dedication, this game expands the boundaries of electronic entertainment. In this cartridge, we witness the limits of 16-bit hardware—and the triumph of a creator's obsession."
The high score acted like a booster shot. Many hesitant players made up their minds instantly.
Even those who struggled with the difficulty now felt they had a reason to persevere, eventually discovering the strategic joy hidden beneath the brutality.
In no time, the entire Japanese gaming scene was abuzz with discussions about this strange, uncompromising game.
Please Support me by becoming my patreon member and get 30+ chapters.
[email protected]/Ajal69
change @ with a
Thank You to Those who joined my Patreon