Video Game Tycoon in Tokyo-Chapter 853: Ambitious Plan

"Takayuki, congratulations—you've truly become a one-of-a-kind figure in the game industry."

At the end of the awards ceremony, Ueto Hayakawa, who had long been both rival and friend, was waiting at the exit to personally offer his congratulations to Takayuki.

At this moment, Takayuki was only holding one award—the Lifetime Achievement Trophy, a prize uniquely his.

The trophy was a bust of Takayuki himself, as if the award had been custom-made for him.

He smiled wryly and said, "Honestly, I don't care much about awards like this. What I care about is seeing more great games in the world—not these symbolic things."

Although this world didn't have the term "Versailles-style humblebrag," Hayakawa was definitely thinking it.

"This guy is the embodiment of humblebragging!"

But he had to admit—Takayuki had every right to say it.

Hayakawa chuckled and said, "Well, if you're looking to make more great games, I assume you already have plans for what's next?"

Takayuki nodded. "Yes, I have something in mind. And it's going to be big—very ambitious."

Hayakawa leaned in. "What kind of game? Another open-world title?"

Takayuki replied calmly, "I'll have to keep that secret for now."

He wasn't ready to share anything yet. He wanted to wait until the project was 70–80% complete before making any announcement.

Even if it took three, five, or even eight years to build—this was his ultimate dream.

"I won't pry about the genre," Hayakawa said, "but at least tell me—how much are you planning to invest?"

Clearly, Hayakawa was trying to estimate the scope of the project by its budget.

Takayuki considered it for a moment. This was no real secret—by the time development began, someone like Hayakawa would figure it out anyway.

So he answered openly: "The initial estimate is $300 million, with an extra $200 million in reserve if needed. If it can be finished with $300M, great. If not, we'll put in more."

Hayakawa's expression froze.

Three hundred million? No, five hundred million total?

Takayuki was really planning to go all-in.

And just how much did Takayuki have in savings right now?

Ah, right—Switch sales exploded this year.

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Hayakawa had chosen not to compete directly with the Switch, even deliberately steering clear of it. As a result, players flocked to the new console, especially given its incredible game lineup.

Now Hayakawa was feeling a little regretful. Maybe he should've tried to compete with Takayuki after all—he might have at least snagged some of the market.

But it was too late to think about that now.

"Well then, I should be going," Takayuki said. "Hayakawa, I hope you'll also keep putting out great games. Let's not waste the opportunity that industrialized game development offers. This is a chance for all of us to grow."

With a wave, Takayuki and his team of top-tier game creators—each carrying a trophy—walked out of the venue. The crowd watched them leave with envy in their eyes.

A clean sweep. That kind of moment might never happen again in awards history.

This year's Game of the Year award went to The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, and rightly so. With its stunning graphics and absurd attention to detail, even other developers admitted they couldn't dream of making something like it.

Not because of a lack of technical ability—but because of a difference in vision.

It was as if Takayuki existed on an entirely different dimension.

And so, with the awards ceremony behind them, 2010 came to a close. The world had completed its first decade of the 21st century.

...

New Year, 2011 — employees of Gamestar Electronic Entertainment returned from their break, chatting and laughing as they arrived at the company's grand HQ from every direction.

"Zhangmoto-san, I brought some sticky rice dumplings my wife made. Try one!"

"Mmm! Delicious—your wife's amazing!"

"Of course!"

...

"Ikeda-san, I've been stuck on this feature in the game. Any suggestions?"

"No problem. I'll show you. Ayano Tsukino-senpai taught me this trick—let me pass it on to you."

"Thank you so much!"

Takayuki had given everyone a super-extended holiday break after Christmas—over 20 days.

Everyone returned well-rested and full of energy.

Some even felt a little too idle and were eager to dive into new work, hungry to contribute to fresh projects.

Most of Gamestar's major game projects had wrapped up by year's end, with only some minor patchwork remaining. The devs had been enjoying a rare period of downtime.

But they hadn't wasted it.

Some action game teams flew abroad to study real-life martial arts and stunt movement.

Others spent weeks at home bingeing action movies and playing all kinds of games.

Everyone was simultaneously relaxing and leveling up.

Now, they were brimming with creative ideas, just waiting for a spark.

And that spark was supposed to come from Takayuki.

But by noon, he still hadn't shown up.

People were starting to get anxious. Something felt off.

Thankfully, each department's lead producer was present and able to keep things steady—their own leadership and charisma strong enough to maintain calm.

Still, even they were starting to wonder...

"What the heck is President Takayuki doing?"

He had promised that the moment work resumed, he would announce a major new project.

And yet... he was nowhere to be seen.