Video Game Tycoon in Tokyo-Chapter 874: Myron Case’s Final Struggle

Sometimes, all it takes is one game to ignite players' passion.

At the venue, the area selling game-related merchandise and products was suddenly packed during the evening.

Thanks to the announcement of the Final Fantasy VII Remake, the official store at the carnival sold out of all FFVII merchandise within just a few minutes.

It was as if players, unable to immediately get the game, turned their frustration into a shopping spree.

Even a Tifa mini-figure keychain priced at 5,000 yen was snatched up like hotcakes.

Despite only costing around 500-600 yen to produce, people were more than willing to pay the price — almost like handing over free money.

And before that, a new concept trailer had been shown after the FFVII Remake announcement.

It was just a concept trailer, with not even a title attached.

...

...

That concept trailer was for Takayuki's long-term vision project: Cyberpunk 2077.

This was the same video as the first teaser in the original world.

The teaser featured a beautiful woman with mantis blades extending from her forearms — the mechanical enhancements rendered with stunning CGI. One shot showed bullets grazing her face, sending off a shower of sparks.

There wasn't much information, and without a game title, most people assumed it was simply a tech demo for Unreal Engine.

Some players were amazed by the visuals, while industry insiders nodded in appreciation.

That was exactly the effect Takayuki wanted — to give a glimpse of the game's concept without revealing too much. A proper showing would have to wait at least two years.

As a fellow gamer, Takayuki didn't want to put others through the painful wait he himself had once endured.

This year's Gamestar Carnival was packed with content.

From the beginning — with multiple Surisoft titles coming to PC — to the grand reveal of the FFVII Remake, every announcement was a highlight.

Myron Case couldn't understand it.

He had heard of Final Fantasy VII's legendary status.

But how could a game that already existed, simply remade with new technology, capture so much attention again?

If the same were done in the film industry, it would be called a lazy cash grab — no matter the technology.

People usually prefer the classics.

But with games, things were different.

Players embraced remakes, especially older ones. The older the game, the more excited longtime fans became about seeing it remade.

Myron could only curse himself for not having a classic of his own.

If he had something like that, he could rake in cash every few years with a remake.

Inspired by the FFVII Remake, Harukawa Ueto quickly ordered his team to research remakes of older titles — starting with Sun Knight.

Even if it didn't get as much attention as FFVII, analysts believed a remake would still be warmly received by players.

Veterans often wanted to experience their favorite old games with new technology — not only for nostalgia, but to feel the leap of time through a single title.

With this conclusion, Harukawa wasted no time initiating the remake project.

This kind of money-making opportunity couldn't be missed.

Meanwhile, after the carnival ended, Myron returned to his team as if preparing for war, immediately ordering development of a big-budget game — one with at least a $100 million investment.

At the carnival, he had truly witnessed the power of IP.

He now wanted to create one of his own.

Even something on the level of Sun Knight would be fine.

His company, Mickford, seemed to have paused hardware development for now, shifting focus to operating systems and games — hoping to win over players.

Gamers were often the trendsetters of consumer electronics. Winning their favor was key.

At the same time, Myron actively began courting small and medium-sized game developers.

These studios weren't locked into partnerships with Gamestar or Surisoft. With enough money, they could be persuaded to release games on his platform.

Later that year, Mickford launched a unique subscription gaming service.

It was inspired by Facebook's video subscription model.

On one hand, Mickford would subsidize developers who joined. On the other, early-stage revenue would be fully shared with participating studios.

With enough money, market share was always up for grabs.

And being a U.S.-based company gave Mickford a huge advantage.

If Gamestar tried the same thing, they'd be hit with dumping investigations by Congress.

But Mickford? As a domestic firm, they'd be supported — unless they truly became a monopoly.

Seeing Mickford's move surprised Takayuki.

New novel chapters are published on freewёbn૦νeɭ.com.

He hadn't expected them to take the lead.

He had planned to introduce his own subscription service once Gamestar's membership program was stable.

Games going the subscription route was inevitable. Mickford, perhaps under pressure, had stumbled into a viable development path.

Still, the impact wasn't immediate.

Players were still conditioned to believe that great games should be purchased outright.

Free access to high-quality titles wasn't the norm — yet.

As Mickford kept experimenting, Gamestar remained focused.

They quietly continued developing their key titles.

Of course, in the meantime, they did release a few smaller but still meaningful games.

"Takayuki, this is the game you're working on? I never thought you were that kind of person."

One day, Eri Sawazawa, face slightly red, stormed into Takayuki's office with a file. She slapped it down on his desk.

Takayuki, busy overseeing the FFVII Remake, glanced at the file with a calm expression.

"So what? Games are meant to be fun. Making something like this just means we're giving players what they want."

"What kind of players want this?" Eri huffed in disbelief.

On the cover of that file, the game's title was written in bold:

Dead or Alive: Beach Volleyball.