Takayuki hadn't continued to dig deeper into the smartphone market, which gradually put Myron Case at ease.
Still, he couldn't afford to be careless. Who knew when Takayuki might suddenly act outside the norm again? If possible, Myron figured he should expand his own influence in the smartphone sector as much as he could.
As long as it was just Facebook he was dealing with, he was still confident he could handle it.
Meanwhile, over on Takayuki's side, the Nintendo Direct-style showcase was fully prepped and ready to go.
Game showcases were rarely held in the middle of the year—most were concentrated in the first and second halves. So the timing of this reveal came as a surprise to many.
At the same time, rumors began to circulate online that Gamestar Electronic Entertainment was about to unveil its next-generation console.
This instantly electrified gamers everywhere.
…
It had been so long since Gamestar announced a new console.
Fans could hardly believe it.
They'd been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever.
The news even made Myron Case suddenly realize: so this was why Takayuki had gone quiet—he was gearing up to reveal his new console.
Previous leaks all pointed to a handheld device. And based on information from chip suppliers and other sources, Gamestar really had been purchasing mobile-class chips, not home console-level ones.
This made Myron a bit dismissive.
Trying to win back the market with a handheld?
Impossible. Handhelds no longer had the dominance they once did. Smartphones were the real future.
The showcase was scheduled for Japan's evening hours, perfectly timed for people relaxing at home—and also hitting U.S. audiences during their daytime. It was the optimal time to announce a new console and games lineup.
When evening arrived, Tokyo TV halted all regular programming on the dot.
And gamers knew exactly what that meant.
More people than usual were glued to their TVs.
Some even brought out snacks and drinks to enjoy the event like it was a primetime show.
Others were fully ready to celebrate the unveiling of a new console.
At exactly 8:00 PM, the showcase aired live on Tokyo TV.
Simultaneously, it was also streamed on Facebook's video platform and Gamestar's official website.
"It's here, it's here!"
At Kazuo Murakami's game review company, none of the employees had gone home. They'd all chosen to stay and watch the showcase together at the office.
Kazuo had even set up a massive screen—about the size of a small movie theater—so hundreds could easily see every detail.
Whenever the company had events or big reveals to watch, they used this screen. It had become one of the office's most beloved traditions.
They weren't just doing this for work—they were gamers themselves, eager to see what kind of console Gamestar was about to drop.
"What do you think the specs of this handheld will be?"
"I think at the very least, it'll match the GS1. That way we could even replay some of those GS1-era games on it."
"No way a new console would rely only on old games. I bet it'll be even more powerful. I've heard from a few sources that the chip they're using is pretty impressive."
"Huh? What sources?"
"That's a secret for now."
As the chatter continued, Kazuo Murakami spoke up. "Alright, quiet down. Let's watch the showcase first, then we can talk specs."
Everyone instantly fell silent, eyes locked on the screen.
The Gamestar logo faded in, followed by a sizzle reel—a montage of iconic game music and clips from all of Gamestar's legendary first-party games.
"Super Mario!"
"Zelda!"
"Need for Speed!"
…
With each game that appeared, someone in the room reacted with excitement.
Every person there had once been moved by at least one of these titles. These games were the reason they fell in love with gaming.
In their hearts, they viewed Gamestar as a kind of divine entity.
Without companies like this, they wouldn't have the incredible games they cherished.
Compared to Gamestar, most other studios didn't even come close.
Every game in the sizzle reel was a certified masterpiece.
And right now, many other game companies were also watching the stream.
Some were new to the industry. Others had once competed with Gamestar.
They all wanted to get a glimpse of this mysterious new handheld—see if it was a threat or an opportunity.
But watching the reel, many of them felt like crying—tears of envy, if anything.
So many.
So many top-tier IPs.
Gamestar had created so many game series that even picking just one would be enough to support a mid-sized, or even large, studio.
And Gamestar had dozens of them. Each one a money-making machine.
Who wouldn't be jealous?
If they had even half this IP library, they could practically sit back and coast.
Some studios had already thought up dozens of ways to milk these IPs dry.
But those IPs didn't belong to them.
All they could do was dream.
The sizzle reel lasted about five minutes—barely enough to even scratch the surface of Gamestar's immense catalog.
Sometimes, having too many IPs can be its own kind of burden. But only Gamestar had that "problem."
When the reel ended, the screen went black—then a woman's voice spoke.
"It's starting! This is the real showcase now!"
Everyone snapped to attention, their eyes fixed on the screens.
"Huh? A female voice? Isn't Takayuki usually the one who hosts these things?"
People who were familiar with Gamestar's showcase style were clearly puzzled.
"Yeah, why is it a woman this time?"