Regarding the insults made by that filmmaker Alfonso on the talk show, Takayuki felt it was necessary to respond.
He couldn't just let people like that run wild unchecked.
And conveniently, a loyal fan had just reminded him of something live on the program:
It seemed that Alfonso had an upcoming film of his own. Judging by what was shown so far, its visual effects didn't even measure up.
That gave Takayuki an idea—a perfect opportunity for some strategic counterattack.
After all, he had access to Facebook as a distribution and communication platform.
He could leverage this channel to mobilize some online "comment troops".
In this world, online astroturfing and "hired commenters" had already become a common tactic. Since the internet had developed earlier here, the "comment army" industry had long since become a mature business chain—one more group from him wouldn't make a difference.
And if his own supporters were handing him the knife—why wouldn't he use it?
...
...
So, for a time, Facebook's Social Square was flooded with posts mocking Alfonso's new film.
Coincidentally, Alfonso himself was something of a modern guy and quite liked the Facebook platform.
When he saw these posts start popping up in greater and greater numbers, he was genuinely enraged.
These people kept hammering at his weak spot—visual effects—and showed no mercy.
He immediately instructed his company's staff to jump into the comments and debate those critics: insisting that his film didn't have bad effects, it's just that the first trailer was released too early. A new trailer would be coming soon, and it would amaze everyone.
Originally, based on his VFX team's timeline, it would have taken another two to three months to elevate the film's visual quality to the next level.
But now, he was being forced to respond to the rising online backlash. He had to show something that would convince the public.
After all, trailers weren't enough to convey story quality—otherwise there wouldn't be so many "trailer bait" films. The only way to win people's trust was to impress them with the visual effects in the trailer.
Especially since Alfonso himself had previously hyped the movie's VFX in marketing, claiming they were cutting-edge and the most realistic yet.
But if even Gamestar Electronic Entertainment's effects looked better than his, what "latest technology" was he boasting about?
So the VFX team had no choice but to carve out time and resources to polish a portion of the effects to higher quality and release a new trailer just to shut down the criticism.
The new trailer did, in fact, quiet the online conversation a little—but not by much. Most of the users on Facebook who were driving the discussion were part of the comment army, and they weren't going to be swayed by Alfonso's rebuttal.
And it wasn't just fake commenters.
In terms of social standing, young people didn't hold much influence—but what they did have was time. Endless, boundless time to spend online.
The internet was their territory. And most of them were loyal gamers—many of them diehard fans of Gamestar.
They weren't going to be swayed by a flashy trailer from Alfonso. They still believed Gamestar was the best.
So when the online conversation refused to shift despite his new trailer, Alfonso was even more furious. In a fit of rage, he deleted all his Facebook accounts and links.
Facebook user count: -1.
But that was only temporary. After experiencing the beauty of modern social networking, there was no way Alfonso could truly stay away.
Especially when Facebook's features and user experience were so advanced—it practically played the human psyche like a violin. Being on Facebook felt like having a personal companion, and its social ecosystem was immersive and addictive.
So sure enough, after some time passed, Alfonso quietly came crawling back, rejoining Facebook as if nothing had ever happened.
That said, every time he saw an ad for Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children on the platform, it made his blood boil all over again.
So now, stuck in this love-hate relationship with Facebook—furious but unable to quit—you could say Alfonso was suffering blissfully.
But now he started to feel curious.
Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children was definitely not coming to traditional theaters. No cinema wanted to offend the movie industry giants, especially since Detroit Pictures Group had a huge presence in the business.
So without a theatrical release, and with so much money being poured into promotions, wasn't Takayuki afraid it would all go to waste?
Based on estimates from Alfonso and his team, if the film's full-CG quality matched the trailers, it would have cost at least $100 million to make.
Not to mention the insane level of advertising. Alfonso had seen FF7 movie ads all over the top advertising channels—it honestly looked like overspending.
So he thought, Maybe this guy really thinks he can just replicate his gaming success in the film world. How naïve.
Or maybe… he was just someone with too much money to care?
Now that he thought about it, Alfonso vaguely remembered reading somewhere that Gamestar Electronic Entertainment had a massive cash reserve. They were one of the few companies sitting on huge piles of money.
Whereas most companies aggressively reinvest their profits into expanding their business empires, Gamestar took the opposite approach—stashing away at least half of their earnings.
Rumor had it that their reserves might already exceed $2 billion USD.
Now that was the kind of thing that made people jealous.
So even if Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children made zero profit, it would barely scratch Gamestar.
Alfonso even began to wonder if he should get into game development. It really did seem like an ideal way to make a fortune.
Of course, he wasn't the only one in the film industry who was puzzled.
Other insiders were just as curious.
They had also noticed that, once Gamestar was locked out of theaters, they chose instead to release the film on Facebook's video platform—but only to paid subscribers.
But Facebook's basic monthly plan was $9.99—not exactly cheaper than a movie ticket.
Sure, you could watch unlimited content for a month—but you'd only be seeing it on a small screen. It could never compare to the cinematic experience.
So they chalked it up to a last-resort move from Gamestar, forced to settle for digital release.
Nobody in the industry was taking the platform seriously.
They were convinced that only a tiny handful of people would be willing to pay for content that way.
After all, no company had ever proven that a subscription-based video platform could successfully attract paying users.
Yet.